It had been enough days, and he really didn't think it was going to do any good, but Wolfwood couldn't help journeying out into the desert where he'd found himself after the earthquakes hit, hoping to find any sign of the Vash from his home. He really should have left Rem's place ages ago, but he hated to leave, now that her and the other Vash knew he was there. He knew they would worry, as pointless as it was to worry about a guy who'd been dead for who knew how long, but they would regardless. So...he stayed, and he watched the deserts for any sign of the man he was supposed to be following, and he waited, hoping that nothing happened to him in the meantime.
Which was how he found the figure that morning, a couple iles out from what was supposed to be JuLai (July? It was hard to be sure, he'd never seen the city in his childhood, so he had no way of knowing how alike the two cities were to know the difference) and approached quietly.
It was obvious it was Vash, regardless of the weird thing he was wearing, walking around barefoot in the fucking desert, and looking...looking as if he didn't know what the fuck he was seeing as he picked up some poor son of a bitch's skull and then just tossed it like a piece of garbage.
Something was wrong, here. Very, very wrong. And he didn't know that he was the best person to address it. But...he didn't want to just leave him out there.
So when the man sat, perched on those weird branching vines that seemed to be the form his..."feathers" took, Wolfwood sat, too. Not far away, watching him and waiting. But not talking to him, no, he had been making an ass of himself with that too much, lately. Back to silent and watchful it was.
He reached out gently as one of those vines slithered by, flicking one of those strange, black flowers with his fingertips, mildly curious as to why some versions of the man manifested their powers like something out of an illustration from the old testament, while others ended up manifesting these strangely beautiful flora. And why this one in particular seemed content to manifest them in seeming perpetuity. They were a sign of stress, weren't they?
"Surprised you're not losin' your shit right now. If Spikey had this much power showin', he was a fuckin 'wreck. Maybe just another one'a those differences, I guess?"
no subject
Which was how he found the figure that morning, a couple iles out from what was supposed to be JuLai (July? It was hard to be sure, he'd never seen the city in his childhood, so he had no way of knowing how alike the two cities were to know the difference) and approached quietly.
It was obvious it was Vash, regardless of the weird thing he was wearing, walking around barefoot in the fucking desert, and looking...looking as if he didn't know what the fuck he was seeing as he picked up some poor son of a bitch's skull and then just tossed it like a piece of garbage.
Something was wrong, here. Very, very wrong. And he didn't know that he was the best person to address it. But...he didn't want to just leave him out there.
So when the man sat, perched on those weird branching vines that seemed to be the form his..."feathers" took, Wolfwood sat, too. Not far away, watching him and waiting. But not talking to him, no, he had been making an ass of himself with that too much, lately. Back to silent and watchful it was.
He reached out gently as one of those vines slithered by, flicking one of those strange, black flowers with his fingertips, mildly curious as to why some versions of the man manifested their powers like something out of an illustration from the old testament, while others ended up manifesting these strangely beautiful flora. And why this one in particular seemed content to manifest them in seeming perpetuity. They were a sign of stress, weren't they?
"Surprised you're not losin' your shit right now. If Spikey had this much power showin', he was a fuckin 'wreck. Maybe just another one'a those differences, I guess?"