[There was so much going on, the whole chaotic scene hard to keep track of properly, but he was able to focus just enough to catch the words that spilled out of the other Vash's mouth, and every single one of them made his anger flare, higher and higher until there was none of the peace he'd managed to find in the afterlife, none of the kinder man he'd learned to let himself be over time. No, he was the Punisher again, fury and murderous intent, violence wrapped in the shell of a consciousness, and he didn't even feel enough like the kinder man to even want the feeling to stop.
Instead, he snarled, growled, a sound that he didn't even intentionally make audible but still somehow rippled through the air, distorted and inhuman in a way he didn't know he was capable of.]
Change of plans. While we wait for the kids, we find that fucker an' we make 'im pay. Or just me, can't kill what's already dead, can you? Drag 'im to Hell myself if I have to...[He didn't know if he was intending to be heard or if he was just venting his rage out into the air, but it was audible nontheless, and for all of the dangerously-calm tone, even his speech was coming out strange and warped with malice he wasn't quite present enough to register.
It may not have helped that as soon as Nicholas had stopped trying to fire the gun and had fallen into his own shock, Wolfwood had had to step away, cracking his knuckles uselessly and pacing against the unbridled fury, so that his voice must have seemed to travel formlessly across the dunes, untethered from reality.] Then...then we just...decide what to do afterward. Get the kids somewhere safe and...and...
[The thought "put the poor fucker out of his misery" died on his lips, but it didn't leave his head, and it only made his rage stronger, the thought that that would be the kindest thing for him, for Vash of all people, amplifying his need to lash out and hurt someone. It would be a mercy, it would be a kindness, the words repeated through his head in a long-forgotten cycle of justification that did its best to stem the flow of disgust and horror he felt over what he thought was both the best and most horrific option, the only right one to make.
And even still, he felt like this might be what broke him.
The miserable, hysterical little laugh was what finally seemed to break through the fury, though, and he blinked, looking over as if slowly becoming aware of his surroundings again, and suddenly the rage was mixed with guilt and sadness. He must have thought Wolfwood's blood was on his hands. He was blaming himself for his existence. And he hadn't exactly discouraged that misconception, had he? He stepped closer, crouching down into the sand so that it was obvious he was speaking to the broken man ripping his own hair out on the ground.]
No, Vash, no, it's ok, look, I'm not him. I'm not the one you knew, I lied about that, I'm sorry. I'm not your fault, you don't have anything to apologize for, Mijo, it's... [What? He trailed off in bewildered shock, looking up at the other Vash, up at the other Nicholas. What?
Fuck. Fuck. No wonder the other him was so quick to pull the trigger. Fuck.
He couldn't dwell on that right now, he couldn't get sidetracked. There was a story there that he desperately needed to hear, but he couldn't think about that right now. That would have to come later.]
...It's ok, I promise. I'm not mad at you, we're ok, he is ok, see? You just relax, nobody's gonna hurt your babies, you're gonna be ok.
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Instead, he snarled, growled, a sound that he didn't even intentionally make audible but still somehow rippled through the air, distorted and inhuman in a way he didn't know he was capable of.]
Change of plans. While we wait for the kids, we find that fucker an' we make 'im pay. Or just me, can't kill what's already dead, can you? Drag 'im to Hell myself if I have to...[He didn't know if he was intending to be heard or if he was just venting his rage out into the air, but it was audible nontheless, and for all of the dangerously-calm tone, even his speech was coming out strange and warped with malice he wasn't quite present enough to register.
It may not have helped that as soon as Nicholas had stopped trying to fire the gun and had fallen into his own shock, Wolfwood had had to step away, cracking his knuckles uselessly and pacing against the unbridled fury, so that his voice must have seemed to travel formlessly across the dunes, untethered from reality.] Then...then we just...decide what to do afterward. Get the kids somewhere safe and...and...
[The thought "put the poor fucker out of his misery" died on his lips, but it didn't leave his head, and it only made his rage stronger, the thought that that would be the kindest thing for him, for Vash of all people, amplifying his need to lash out and hurt someone. It would be a mercy, it would be a kindness, the words repeated through his head in a long-forgotten cycle of justification that did its best to stem the flow of disgust and horror he felt over what he thought was both the best and most horrific option, the only right one to make.
And even still, he felt like this might be what broke him.
The miserable, hysterical little laugh was what finally seemed to break through the fury, though, and he blinked, looking over as if slowly becoming aware of his surroundings again, and suddenly the rage was mixed with guilt and sadness. He must have thought Wolfwood's blood was on his hands. He was blaming himself for his existence. And he hadn't exactly discouraged that misconception, had he? He stepped closer, crouching down into the sand so that it was obvious he was speaking to the broken man ripping his own hair out on the ground.]
No, Vash, no, it's ok, look, I'm not him. I'm not the one you knew, I lied about that, I'm sorry. I'm not your fault, you don't have anything to apologize for, Mijo, it's... [What? He trailed off in bewildered shock, looking up at the other Vash, up at the other Nicholas. What?
Fuck. Fuck. No wonder the other him was so quick to pull the trigger. Fuck.
He couldn't dwell on that right now, he couldn't get sidetracked. There was a story there that he desperately needed to hear, but he couldn't think about that right now. That would have to come later.]
...It's ok, I promise. I'm not mad at you, we're ok, he is ok, see? You just relax, nobody's gonna hurt your babies, you're gonna be ok.