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For a very long time, there is nothing. Like the beginning of the universe - a time before time, space before space. He has no physical form he's aware of, no neurons to fire to create thoughts, no hand with which to reach out and nothing to reach out to. This isn't right. Is there a point to asking where he is, when it feels like there is no "where"?
But then, just like during Creation - something shifts, and then there is, again. There's warmth and a breeze, which necessitates a form to feel those things, doesn't it? Knives lies in that warmth for what feels like ages, letting the breeze caress him, thinking over the events of JuLai, thinking over... Vash.
He'd been so close. They'd been so close, and... then everything had been ripped from them. How could Knives have been so fallible? Nothing should have been able to break through to Vash. For what feels like ages, Knives lingers in this confusion, which warps into pain, anger, frustration, and back again. He'd had Vash back, and it had been ripped away from him. Everything had been ripped away from him.
Finally, though, Knives breaks out of his own thought loop, and looks forward, instead. He still is, in some way, which means there's still hope. He can't assume everything has failed until he confirms that himself. There are other elements of this plan that can be salvaged. He can't do it on his own, no, but this isn't the end. It feels more like Genesis than Revelations.
So, he rises, sitting, his eyes finally opening. He's sitting in the warm sand, and when he looks over the landscape, it feels... off, somehow, something so minimal that Knives can't be sure if the planet has changed or if he has. Coming to his feet, he's quick to materialize his cloak and hood around him, ever-so-slightly relieved by the comfort and familiarity it brings him. (Not that he'd ever admit to that, of course.) Relief is hard to come by right now, so he takes what he can get.
He's just outside a city, although he doesn't immediately recognize which one. He's loathe to head towards a human settlement, that's true, but as it stands Knives isn't even sure where he is, and he has to start somewhere, get his bearings, figure out where to proceed from here. It's disgusting he has to do this himself. Where are those who'd pledged their loyalties to him? Shouldn't they be awaiting his return? Or was their faith truly so shakeable?
Well, he'll get to them in due time. For now, Knives proceeds towards the city. It isn't long until he reaches the city entrance, and he stops for a moment, considering his next move. He's not sure if there's a point in trying to find his way back to JuLai, and the idea of stopping to ask someone for directions irks him. These feelings of helplessness alone are beginning to flare his anger again, and Knives stands still for a moment, looking out over the city, letting his feelings pass through him.
This plan has always involved doing things he didn't want to do, and relying on people he didn't want to rely on. This is a setback, nothing more. As long as he's alive, he won't give up. He can't.
Slowly, Knives takes a step forward, then another. Someone here will tell him what he needs to know, even if he has to rip through them one by one to get there.
But then, just like during Creation - something shifts, and then there is, again. There's warmth and a breeze, which necessitates a form to feel those things, doesn't it? Knives lies in that warmth for what feels like ages, letting the breeze caress him, thinking over the events of JuLai, thinking over... Vash.
He'd been so close. They'd been so close, and... then everything had been ripped from them. How could Knives have been so fallible? Nothing should have been able to break through to Vash. For what feels like ages, Knives lingers in this confusion, which warps into pain, anger, frustration, and back again. He'd had Vash back, and it had been ripped away from him. Everything had been ripped away from him.
Finally, though, Knives breaks out of his own thought loop, and looks forward, instead. He still is, in some way, which means there's still hope. He can't assume everything has failed until he confirms that himself. There are other elements of this plan that can be salvaged. He can't do it on his own, no, but this isn't the end. It feels more like Genesis than Revelations.
So, he rises, sitting, his eyes finally opening. He's sitting in the warm sand, and when he looks over the landscape, it feels... off, somehow, something so minimal that Knives can't be sure if the planet has changed or if he has. Coming to his feet, he's quick to materialize his cloak and hood around him, ever-so-slightly relieved by the comfort and familiarity it brings him. (Not that he'd ever admit to that, of course.) Relief is hard to come by right now, so he takes what he can get.
He's just outside a city, although he doesn't immediately recognize which one. He's loathe to head towards a human settlement, that's true, but as it stands Knives isn't even sure where he is, and he has to start somewhere, get his bearings, figure out where to proceed from here. It's disgusting he has to do this himself. Where are those who'd pledged their loyalties to him? Shouldn't they be awaiting his return? Or was their faith truly so shakeable?
Well, he'll get to them in due time. For now, Knives proceeds towards the city. It isn't long until he reaches the city entrance, and he stops for a moment, considering his next move. He's not sure if there's a point in trying to find his way back to JuLai, and the idea of stopping to ask someone for directions irks him. These feelings of helplessness alone are beginning to flare his anger again, and Knives stands still for a moment, looking out over the city, letting his feelings pass through him.
This plan has always involved doing things he didn't want to do, and relying on people he didn't want to rely on. This is a setback, nothing more. As long as he's alive, he won't give up. He can't.
Slowly, Knives takes a step forward, then another. Someone here will tell him what he needs to know, even if he has to rip through them one by one to get there.
