[ There's a gun. There's a gun and he needs to move, needs to be alive just long enough for this to be finished and then never... never again. Vash digs his fingers into the sand, roots wrapping hard around his broken leg to stabilize it, but he has to heal his ribs quicker. It should have been so easy, just a change of energy, but not when his head is such a mess of broken thoughts and remnants of years of programming.
The soft praise of his older brother in his ear. ]
Please... they're too young, they won't survive. Do whatever you want afterwards. [ He's not begging for himself. He never would, he deserves it and so much worse. No, he'd welcome death, especially when it's the man that he's killed twice... didn't he? Vash can still remember hot blood on his cheek from tearing Wolfwood in two and he's still here somehow. God, he's really losing it.
Haunted, near-empty eyes look straight to that barrel and then up at the man holding it. Maybe if he shot him just right, he'd be harmless until the children are ready to be born. ]
no subject
The soft praise of his older brother in his ear. ]
Please... they're too young, they won't survive. Do whatever you want afterwards. [ He's not begging for himself. He never would, he deserves it and so much worse. No, he'd welcome death, especially when it's the man that he's killed twice... didn't he? Vash can still remember hot blood on his cheek from tearing Wolfwood in two and he's still here somehow. God, he's really losing it.
Haunted, near-empty eyes look straight to that barrel and then up at the man holding it. Maybe if he shot him just right, he'd be harmless until the children are ready to be born. ]