nomans_land | In and around Octovern -- later

In and around Octovern -- later

0. A message on Radio Plant
It's not heard, exactly, telepathy doesn't work with the ears. It sounds like Knives - one of them anyway, threaded with a weariness he can't hide like this, and echoed with the feminine reverberation and power of a sister plant. He doesn't have the power to do it himself, but whether she's just signal boosting or if he'd taken the step to merge with her the way he did so many others ... is unknown.

Every plant will hear it, if all goes well. Including the very one Vash had headed out to try to confront..

Vash the Stampede, one of you, has decided to go to Octovern and reignite the conflict with my younger self in spite of it being quiet these past weeks. I know there's at least three more of you out there; I would appreciate it [irony etches that 'voice' briefly]if you could collectively make sure this doesn't go the way it did in the past. If I have to come out there myself, I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

So let's make sure it doesn't go that far. I am certain that together, all of you can find a way to resolve this with no further pointless misery for our own kind.

1. Just outside Octovern
The sour-faced young Wolfwood who picked Vash up only a few hours into his hike to Octovern hadn't been in the mood to talk. He was heading for December, he said, and didn't want to hear anything from any fucking Vash about why he shouldn't go there. Vash had tried to explain to him that Melanie and the kids weren't there anymore – they'd been taken away by Brad to the ship days ago, but Wolfwood didn't want to hear it. He needed to see the place for himself, and Vash, on a similar mission, couldn't argue the point. So Wolfwood drove in silence, and Vash was able to close his eyes and get some real sleep – only occasionally interrupted by strange dreams, including one where his brother tried to warn him about heading for Octovern! Aren't dreams strange? – for the first time in what felt like weeks.

The cliffs around the city – and the remnants of the ship that had crashed there – made for an excellent vista point, so that's where Vash headed first. From the top of the cliffs he could see the whole city, and clear signs of a fight that had to have happened several days ago, perhaps longer. There's scorch marks on the cliff face, craters around the city, military vehicles mixed in with the refugee vans and trucks... but the city itself seems pretty peaceful. It looks like Knives was right -- the fighting is already over.

2. Main St and Market, downtown Octovern
Given the state of the rest of the planet, walking into Octovern is a delightful surprise. There's people here, more people in one place than anywhere else on Noman's right now. Refugees and locals, crew from the Earth ships and local military police, they're all mingled together in one big, bustling town. The streets are full of vendors, cars, people, all talking and shopping and arguing and laughing as though the terror of the last year never happened.

There's some excitement at the end of the block, though, raised voices and a lot of movement... and then, startling the crowd, sudden gunfire! Out of the crowd comes a single man, wearing a red coat and with spiked up black hair with a blond streak, running as fast as he can, and behind him? Behind him are a lot of people – bounty hunters, a couple local feds, people waving guns and autograph books, a whole mob of folks, all hot in pursuit, all yelling: “It's Vash the Stampede!

Help?

3. Out in the desert, heading back to July
He's escaped the mob, but given how many people are looking for him now, it seems best to take the long way back, and avoid any additional attention. His brother, this world's Knives, and this world's Vash, have both vanished. The war is over, the plants have been rescued, the Earth leaders are meeting with local government... and he's not needed at all. It's a relief – of course it is! – but he's spent so long dedicated to this fight that he's not really sure to do with himself now that it's over.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Really, he'd do better using that box as a smoker and curing the meat for travel, since keeping it in the fridge will only preserve it for so lo-- no, wait, that's not the point here!

He'll get to the other questions in a minute -- the most pressing need is the worm that he's not sure he can watch the younger Vash chow down on without being sick.

"I've never been much of a fan of worm myself, ah ha ha!" Which is putting it mildly! They're emergency food for a reason -- just like sucking on a small rock will trick the body into creating saliva and keeping his mouth wet when he runs out of water, sucking on a worm will trick the body into thinking he's not starving to death. The flavor isn't something he can recommend, though. Maybe with a lot of gravy? "You must really enjoy it!"

At least he isn't going to eat it raw. He's hungry, not uncivilized. Mostly. "It's okay I guess, I like fish better but that's expensive and worms are free." That much is true. "Besides, if you get used to the taste, it won't bother you later when you really need it and don't have to worry about getting sick."

Food has been on his mind for days. Whether or not he was hungry, it was a constant nagging concern that kept snacks in pockets and a weather eye out for anything that might do in a pinch. Food that wasn't rotten, wasn't bloated, didn't come with the stink of decay and buzz of equally hungry flyers--

The thought is flinched away from, almost physically. "But! I'm sure with a little barbecue sauce it'll be amazing." Cautiously he peeks into the previously made hole, and when nothing happens, slides slowly off the box and onto hot sand and pebbles. Clearly it must have worked. "Maybe chili powder."

"Hoisin." The diatomaceous earth seems to have done its job -- the box isn't moving. Unfortunately. "Something thick, and with a lot of flavor, so you don't have to taste the worm." Is that rude? The kid just said he doesn't mind the taste. "That's just me, though! I guess it's true that we're not all identical after all!"

Oh, right. There was a question about that, wasn't there? Vash leans against a nearby rock, taking advantage of the bit of shade it offers -- and the defensive position, just in case that worm isn't dead yet -- and starts counting on his fingers. "As for how many of us there are, there's you and me, obviously, there's one of us who is a year or so older than I am? One who's a year or so younger, and I've heard of but haven't met one more." Is that all of them? "Oh! And a little us! He's barely a year old."

There's at least two version of their brother here too, but given how fresh that missing arm seems, maybe telling young Vash that there's multiple Knives here can wait awhile.

That's at least four other independent plants! And one of them is still very young! He's still not interpreting this right, not quite cottoning onto the idea of alternate realities instead of weird plant biology being weird, though it's definitely strange that they're all sharing kind of the same name..

Ever so slowly he levers up the box one-handed, cautious for any signs of movement. There are none that he can see, so the box is tipped right over. The worm, a good sized one that could after who knows how long mature into a proper grand worm, is no longer green but thoroughly white and powdered. "I wish I knew earlier there were more of us."

They might not have been so lonely. Things might have been safer, with adult plants around. Adults would prove humans could be safe and fine to be around, because look, these other guys grew up fine!

He crouches to study the worm, weighing how to get it out of its shell. He'd only ever been able to catch the flyers before, and those he just ate whole, chitin and all. Standing up, he turns to study the older plant more carefully, now that dinner is assured. He's really tall. And one hand.. looks. Well it might be a fancy glove! "But it's kind of neat your hair's different, it looks like something the Bad Lads might wear." All punk!

No sooner does he turn his back to the worm than it suddenly 'reanimates' from its patient playing possum, thrashing once in a whole body fling that showers white powder everywhere, then dives for the sand with even more thrashing, paddle-like front legs and long muscular tail kicking sand in all directions in a sudden obscuring hail of pebbles, sand and diatomaceous earth. His first impulse is to recoil, shielding his face as best he can from the sudden onslaught of harmless filth, then dives after it with another curse. There goes dinner! And it's FAST in the sand, his chances of catching it on sand and not hard ground are pretty slim.

His hand goes automatically to his hair when the younger Vash comments on it, but he's careful to school his face into a bland smile. "It's not that flashy, is it?" That's right -- he wouldn't know what the black meant yet. Well, there's plenty of time for him to find out, and maybe even to avoid burning through his energy the way some of the older Vashes had to.

But then all thoughts of July are swept aside as the worm shudders back to life. spraying dust everywhere and fleeing back toward the softer sand. Vash's hand twitches for his gun, but he doesn't really want to shoot the poor thing. Besides, if it gets away, they'll just have to go find something more suitable to eat, right?

So he leaves his gun in its holster and runs just a little too slowly after the worm right behind the other Vash, grabbing for the rapidly kicking hind legs. Oh darn, the worm is too fast, and Vash simply doesn't have any hope of catching it! Alas!

"Worm, get back here!"

It's clearly styled that way on purpose! How on earth would anyone get it to just grow that way on its own? Unfortunately any further comments on neat hair will have to wait because dinner is on its way to freedom and Vash is simply NOT enough to actually stop it. Maybe if he had a gun, though after ... recent events he's not entirely sure he can pull the trigger on another living thing.

Besides which, he doesn't actually have it with him. So he has to make do with grabbing the flailing tail of the worm and attempting to drag it to a stop, which given it's in its natural element and he only has one arm AND it probably outweighs him by a good amount, doesn't actually do anything to deter it, unlike the box from earlier. It disappears into the sand in a cloud of dust and debris, leaving its attackers thoroughly wormless and the smaller of the plants on the ground glowering at the divot that is a rapidly backfilling tunnel.

He's not stupid enough to dig after a worm. "...So much for meat this week." He tips over slowly onto his side, causing another puff of white powder and sand, expression and tone thoroughly forlorn. Sure he has that nice bit of jerky, which he's definitely saving up for emergencies, but there could have been roast! "If I have to look at another bowl of rice I swear I'm going to scream."

No, never dig in after a worm! That was an early lesson, and one that only had to be tested once.

Younger Vash tips over, and Vash's heart goes out to him. He certainly knows what that kind of gnawing hunger feels like -- even if he is only protein-starved, apparently, and not actually without any food at all. He digs in his pockets as younger Vash bemoans his fate, and is delighted to discover that he's got a couple bills still folded up in the very bottom of one. It's a huge risk, going back into Octovern, but if he hides his coat, and combs his hair down, and if they're very lucky...

"Tell you what. Since it's my fault it got away..." Which is maybe true, even taking the gun out of the equation? If younger Vash hadn't been distracted by him, then would the worm have been able to deceive him like it did? Who's to say? "...how about I treat you to dinner in the city? All you can eat!"

With that many people in Octovern, there have to be restaurants open, right? Especially since all the plants that this world's Knives had collected are now free? Vash looks pointedly down at younger Vash's bare feet, and adds, "...maybe some shoes, too?"

Even with their rapid healing, he's going to end up burnt to a crisp from both ends without both shoes and a good shirt to protect him from the suns.

He had a lot of recovering to do! And while the careful diet he's been put on of selected foods and vitamins and supplements is certainly ideal for the injury and hunger he'd been through it was also BORING and couldn't be conveniently stored up for later in case it happened again.

The donuts up against the rock back where he'd set up the trap, sit in their box. He won't be trying those again for a little while, maybe going from almost nothing to a half dozen pure sugar bombs was a really bad idea. It was, however, food he could save for later. A stale donut is an edible donut.

Or, as the much older plant makes an offer, he supposed he could trade them away for something else to potentially make himself sick on. "It's not your fault. Worms are smart." He doesn't know exactly HOW smart but even worm hunter professionals didn't get their quarry all the time, so they had to be pretty good at escaping at least. What restaurant is going to take them, even with cash in hand, given half the desert's dust has been kicked up and the younger Vash is definitely looking suspiciously beige instead of normal healthy colors ... that's a good question but one he's willing to find out, awkwardly leveraging himself back up to sitting, and then working on regaining his feet.

Another trap will have to be set later. "..I don't mind being barefoot. Sometimes you gotta.." He grasps at the air with his hand, frowning. "...Use toes, you know? Hard to do with a shoe on." Well, maybe he DIDN'T know, but Vash had this dim idea that maybe they shared a similar injury. Maybe more than that. "I don't want to just. Take things. Uh. ... I have half a box left of the chocolate glaze, if you want them. I can find something else later."

He knows what it's like to try and navigate the world with only one hand, certainly! And it's possible that, in the days following the loss of his arm, he'd used his feet to make up for that lack. Honestly, he doesn't really remember. He remembers being cut free, and sitting with the town's only survivor until she'd cried herself out... and he remembers waking up on the ship, with so many people standing over him. But the days in between? Those are mostly a blur.

Food is important, as are better protective clothes, but what his young self really needs is an arm. But with Luida front and center dealing with the ships from Earth and the rest of the planet's plants gathered here, in Octovern, Vash doesn't know where they could go to get one made. He could offer his young self his boots, or his coat -- and may, if they end up traveling together for any length of time! -- but the arm isn't so easily gifted.

Too bad Sensei isn't around anymore.

Vash's mouth starts watering at the offer of donuts, but he shakes his head in gratitude. "Nobody's taking anything, don't worry about it! I've got money." And fame, if it comes to it. Come hell or high winds, this kid is getting fed. "If you're worried about going into the city, I can go and bring something back? I don't actually know what's available right now, but I bet I could find some salmon sandwiches!" He'd said he liked fish, so is one of Vash's comfort foods a favorite of this version of himself, as well?

The people who were supposed to be looking after him, whom he'd snuck out on as soon as he had the opportunity, had some ideas about what to do about his arm. Vash himself had ideas mostly revolving around not being handed around to all kinds of strangers who were primarily interested in what they thought was best, not his opinions on the same.

"Nobody in the city is bothering me," he says slowly, eyeing his older counterpart's hair and accessories. "I'm just some kid who keeps getting in the way." He was much, much too young to flag as the legendary wanted criminal OR his notorious brother, which meant he could come and go as he pleased, if he so chose. "But if they were chasing you around earlier they're probably going to again, and a lot of them are armed." He pats himself briefly, and is rewarded by another small dust cloud. Hm. Maybe he should see if he can find a dust brush or something first. "You might want to make yourself not .. um, distinct. The Bad Lads look might be cool, but it's really noticeable."

He can't decide whether to be annoyed or to laugh. Was he this much of a pain in the butt at this age? Honestly, it really is hilarious. "I'm going to cover it up!" Bad Lads look, really? "And I'll take the coat off too." Leaving the skin-tight leather number, but at least it's less distinctive than all that bright determination red?

And okay, sure, he went into town earlier not in disguise, with his hair crested up and his coat screaming out his identity to the world, but he's able to keep a low profile when he needs to! Sometimes! ...Look, it's happened before, therefore it's possible again, right?

He digs in his pocket for a clean handkerchief he's sure he left in there. "It's not long enough anymore to pull back, so how about I cover it with... with..." It's in there, right? He had a handkerchief, honest! Did it fall out? His eye is drawn to the white powder still clinging to younger Vash's, well, everything, and Vash sighs. "With some of that stuff," he grumbles, pointing at the pile of diatomaceous earth on the ground by the worm trap. "White hair, no coat, now can we go get lunch?"

Leaving off his bulletproof coat when heading into a city of people who are gunning for him seems like a terrible idea, but so long as he keeps his head down, it'll be fine!

He likes that look! If he thought he could get away with hair dye he'd probably give it a go, at least until he found out what it means when a plant's hair starts turning black. But it's definitely noticeable, and makes him look just like the guy on the wanted posters; Vash gets away with it by virtue of looking like he's fifteen or so, not in his twenties. And it's going to be some years yet before that changes.

Hand set on his hip, he considers the hair, the diatoms, and the lack of a handkerchief, weighing options. "Maybe it'd be enough if it just isn't sticking up," says the kid who's hair would definitely be sticking up in exactly the same way if he were cleaner, "And don't put this on me, it's not my fault I don't want you to get shot up." Well, it is, since he's the one wanting it, but that would be too sensible. "I know a place you can keep the coat, but we'll probably have to stay out of the suns if you burn easy." HE burns, presumably every plant can burn, and this one's wearing stuff nearly head to toe so maybe he has sensitive skin.

The worm would have been easier to eat. "...You can have the donuts anyway if you want them. I won't be eating them." Maybe in a few weeks he'll give another one a cautious try, but the idea alone of trying again made his stomach roil.

[ One offer of donuts he could refuse, with great effort. Two offers? It would be rude to just leave them here to dry up and get dusty, wouldn't it? ]

Well, maybe just one. [ He could put away the whole box in under five minutes, but his younger self doesn't need to know how much of a glutton he is quite yet! Besides, they're going to go get lunch. If he's got salmon sandwiches in his future, then he doesn't need all those pastries. ...He wants them, he just doesn't need them. ] And you don't need to worry about me! I don't burn easily.

[ The box was over here on this rock, wasn't it? Vash heads over, combing his hands through his hair as he goes. The mess really doesn't want to lay down -- it's going to take water to flatten it out, and he doesn't want to waste what little drinking water he has left on this disguise. Looks like rock dust might be the solution after all. ]

And a good thing, too. I figure I've walked the whole circumference of this planet ten times by now!

[It would be TOTALLY rude to just let them go to waste! What else could eb done with them besides leave them to the worms, at this point? Taking them is just the reasonable thing to do!]

I think there's.. maybe six or seven. I don't want them to go to waste, I just can't ... actually eat them.. yet.

[Homeless, lonely donuts in need of proper appreciation. He trails after the older plant, making a couple half-hearted attempts to clean himself off a little. Thankfully his bandage is still firmly in place and he wouldn't have to put up with any uncomfortable stump-washing, just a changing of the outermost wrappings.

Don't think about it long. Move on, before it brought up memories of--]

Ten times? How fast do you go?!

[It's not a small planet! And as far as he knows people have only been here about eighty years, walking the entire width of a planet would have to take a good chunk of that, never mind multiple times!

... Maybe it's an exaggeration. Maybe that heavy looking jacket kept the worst of the sun off, even his face didn't look that tanned.. but that could be a plant thing, for all he knew. Maybe that's why he just burned instead of tanning. Should he get a big jacket? Vash frowns faintly, brow furrowing. Jacket, and layers. Hm.]

Hey, what's your name anyway? I'm Vash.

[LIEK THE WANTED POSTER. But he's too small and coincidences abound.]

[ It's a bit of an exaggeration... but only a bit! Walking an average of, oh, ten to twenty miles a day, over a hundred and fifty years... the miles add up! He did the math once, , years and years ago, and really, it's a wonder that his boots have held up as well as they have.

He just shrugs at the comment about his speed -- he goes as fast as he goes, as fast as the terrain and the weather and his mood and his being-pursued status allow! -- and leans over the donut box, humming with indecision. They all look so good! How can he be expected to pick just one? That's like picking only one puppy from a box of strays -- it's simply impossible. He might have to take one for the team, so to speak, and eat them all. Yes, the longer he thinks about it, the more he has to accept the sorry truth -- every one of these donuts needs to be eaten. They were made to be eaten. They want to be eaten! He's merely the agent of fate, an avatar of a great cosmic hunger that seeks to balance the scales between emptiness and pastry. This is his destiny. He must...

...wait, what did he say?

Vash turns to Vash, confusion written all over his face. ]

What do you mean? I'm you. [ Although, given the vagaries of time travel and multiple universes... ] Or I was you. Or I might have been you, if you weren't brought here. Probably. [ Did that clear things up? ] There's a lot of us here! Vashes, I mean. [ Sorry, is this a lot to take in? He waves, a tiny gesture with just one hand. ] Hello! I'm also Vash.

[It would be a terrible waste of all the effort either a person or a plant went into to make those donuts, so it's just right and proper they be consumed by someone who will fully appreciate them.

It's still hard not to be a little bit envious. The last time he'd had a donut, before the most recent incident, it had been just fine and delicious and NOW.. now he's stuck with bland boring things and vitamins because it's healthier. A pox on all healthy things, he wanted horribly unhealthy fried things and sweet things and everything that would probably make him terribly ill.

Nothing is immediately said to the confused look or the revelation that follows, just a slow rise of eyebrows. This isn't actually the first time he'd heard about something like that, he'd just completely tuned it out the first time mostly thanks to being in terrible shape and decided it must have all been a really bizarre fever dream.

The younger of the two makes a move that looks like it had been intended to be crossing his arms before he gives up on it. This could also be completely true, but it could ALSO be complete bullshit.]

Uh huh. How many is a lot? And if everyone's Vash, where's our brothers?

[This recontextualizes an earlier bit of conversation, when he'd asked basically the same question, but it's in a way disappointing. Knives might consider the wisdom and experience of an older plant, but probably not if that older plant is him.

An older him who can't catch a worm either, which didn't really bode well for his chances for getting enough protein in the near future.]

Edited 2023-07-12 00:04 (UTC)

[ Vash nods -- of course he's concerned about Knives. A bunch of Vashes is funny, strange, potentially explosive, but a bunch of Knives? That could be truly dangerous, especially given how fresh that injury of his looks. ]

The plants in Octovern, all our sisters just over there? Somehow they brought us here to help the fight that just happened a few days ago, with this world's Vash against his brother.

[ For all the good it did -- they'd spawned across the face of the planet, far too far away to be of any help. Or at least, all the Vashes he's met did -- maybe there were more! Maybe there were dozens of them, and their combined strength was the reason that the plants had been returned and Knives was missing. Getting real information from their sisters was complicated, and the little he'd heard from the humans in Octovern had been confused, to say the least. All he's sure of is that Knives was right -- the fight they were brought here for is over, and now that their sisters are no longer joined together, they don't have the strength to warp spacetime and send them all home.

Given the ratio of Vashes to Knives, that means that there's several worlds out there now with no one to stand against their brother. He's trying really hard not to think about that, and what it means for the people in those worlds. ]

There's six of us so far that I know of, including you, and only two of our brother, one of whom is still a child. [ His smile grows fond. ] He goes by Nai, not Knives.

[ It's a lot to take in, he knows! And there's more yet to tell, but a little at a time is probably best. ]

There's a house out by Lost July where they all seem to end up, if you need a place to go.

[It had been. Longer. For him. Long enough to burn in the suns, long enough for meat to rot. Maybe it wouldn't have been so long if he hadn't been brought anywhere at all--

Don't think about that.]

'Nai'? ..That sounds a little like Knives, I guess.

[He's still recontextualizing, everything he'd said and heard from this plant since they encountered each other, and then further back. He HAD been told, Wolfwood and the other Vash weren't leaving him high and dry, it just didn't stick. Not their fault.]

I don't know if ... if my brother is here. If he is he's probably badly hurt. I.. .. w-well if you're really me you know why already. ...And probably you know if he's okay.

[Vash shot first, and shot without bothering to aim good enough to guarantee a nonlethal injury. He can't even be sure if he was shooting to kill or not, but everything that followed had simply been retaliation.

He stops for a moment, right on the edge of where sand becomes good solid packed earth and very deliberately chooses to not think about any of that right now. It's interesting, it's potentially super relevant, and! He is so not ready to process any of it.]

I have somewhere to go right now, in the city. The people who picked me up have given me a space. I don't know if I should stay or not what with all the.. [he wiggles his remaining hand in the air, fingers flexed.] .. Complete lunacy going on attached to my name!

[ A few days, a few weeks... time is strange here. Those portals that keep popping people around the planet's face must have a temporal component, moving people in space and time. It's the only explanation he's come up with so far for why time is passing at a different rate for him than everyone else.

That, or he's just finally gone nuts. Hopefully it's the portals! ]

I'm sorry about the lunacy! [ He'd like to argue that it's not all his fault -- this isn't even his world, apparently! -- but there's still the occasion shout or gunshot coming from Octovern after he riled everyone up, so that argument doesn't exactly hold sand. ] And I'm glad to hear you've got somewhere to go!

[ The people who picked him up. Could he mean Luida? Or is he living with a couple humans? He'll ask in a bit, he decides, fishing another donut out of the box. ]

I haven't had a whole lot of luck with pseudonyms myself, but you could adopt one? Otherwise, I bet if you just avoid wearing red and doing your hair up, you'll probably be fine? [ Probably? ] Nobody's looking for someone your age anyway!

[ He heard that question about Knives, and he's going to answer it. Just, you know... one thing at a time, right? ]

At least, they weren't. [ But having multiple Vashes the Stampede show up in town might change that, huh. Crap. ] But now that there's a lot of us, maybe you should go by a different name? Just to be safe?

[There's a lot about this he's unprepared to think about for long. Potential time travel, alternate realities, multiple alternate selves, possible multiple alternate Knives..es.. and adult ones at that. On one hand that definitely means he didn't die when Vash shot him, which is great, but on the other hand an adult could probably do a lot more damage. Maybe he got better eventually!

Yeah he's.. going to hang onto that thought, because it was at least a potential bright spot.]

I.. don't really want to change my name. [Even temporarily! Rem gave it to him! It's almost all he had left of her, a lot of ideals, and a name.] I'll be alright, I'm too small anyway. I'll probably get yelled at for taking the name of such an infamous outlaw! [This comes with a wide, broad gesture and a briefly fierce expression, but it fades right back to normal quickly.] Which I can blame on my nonexistent dad, I have this worked out.

[He doesn't, at all, he's making it all up as he goes along.]

...If anything, having all of you around is going to make me a lot safer, because they're never going to look for someone that looks like a kid. [Vash, you ARE a kid. Being eighty means different things to plants.] Just.. just, um, don't get shot or something, okay?

[ He might be making it up as he goes along, but it's a good story! Sorry to that non-existent dad and his terrible ideas about baby names, but it's not a bad idea at all, Vash thinks, nodding in approval. The kid's right that nobody is going to be looking for somebody his age, especially not if he avoids looking too much like the wanted posters.

And besides, if things get too hairy, Vash can always draw attention to himself and away from the kid. It's a flawless plan! ]

Don't worry about that! I hate getting shot.

[ And he's not the only one. With all the alternate versions of himself floating around, Vash has been spending a lot more time than usual thinking about the past, about Knives, and all the ways they failed each other over the years. There wasn't much good in dwelling on the past before now, but with Nai's future in the balance, he can't afford to keep putting the past aside.

Shooting Knives in that town all those decades ago had been pure accident, panic and fear and unthinking action. If he'd been able to keep his fear under control then, he can't help but wonder, how would their lives have been different? ]

He lived, by the way. Our brother. I didn't see him again for a very long time, but he recovered fully.

[ The damage to his body recovered, anyway. The damage to his mind, and to their relationship, had been permanent.

Lost in memories, Vash shrugs out of his coat -- this is as good a spot as any to leave it. He can bury it at the base of one of these rocks and come back for it after they eat -- and rolls it up in a tight little ball. ]

Let me hide this, then we can go?

[He's absolutely CERTAIN there were people out there who idolized all kinds of whackos and would absolutely name their kids after some kind of global terrorist!

But it did put things in perspective a bit, now that he thought about it. He knows he'd never do horrible things for entertainment, therefore there had to be a whole lot of exaggeration in those stories if it was some other him.

Unless the Mirrorverse is real and there's Evil Hims out there! He was going to have to keep an eye out for goatees. If reality was as cliched as mirror universes it would likely follow all other cliches too.]

..Oh. Good. .. I.. I know he's, I mean if he did, if he kept ..keeps, doing that to people, then it's really bad but I still don't want him to die, you know?

[How to put it in a way that doesn't sound like childish stumbling around? He doesn't like the way his voice doesn't want to be nice and steady and calm, instead wavering between octaves awkwardly. He clears his throat and kicks briefly at a bit of sand before setting to try to pat off more of his dust with a bit more determination.]

You can put it in the box if you want. It's not like it has anything else in it now.

[Not even a LITTLE worm.]

[ Vash pauses, coat a tight knot in his arms, as young Vash stutters through his feelings. The memory it evokes isn't Knives running away, bullet shot, or any of the times they met up after that. Instead, he can't help but think of the very old version of his brother living out by Chisler's Hill, the Knives who'd stayed alive out of spite, and lived long enough to have a house full of rambunctious kids. The Knives who'd given him nothing but good advice, in his own way, and who had been very clear about his desire for Vash to survive, and return.

His coat creaks as he squeezes it, his eyes burning. With a dry laugh he blinks the prickles in his eyes away, and turns to the nearby boulder, dropping into a crouch and digging at the soft sand at the base of the stone. ]

Thanks, but I think I want to hide it, just in case anyone comes by.

[ His prosthetic hand makes quick work of the sand, shoveling it aside until the hole is nice and deep. ]

You know, that was half my lifetime ago that I got this new arm? [ Half a lifetime of aches and poor coordination, of fearing his brother in an entirely new way. Of hunting him, hating him, and making so many mistakes. But it all worked out, didn't it? ] He's still not... [ Kind is the word he wants, but it doesn't seem right here. ] ...easy. To love.

[ The coat disappears into the ground, and the red vanishes beneath the sand as he fills the hole back in. ]

But we've got a second chance here, all of us. [ Well. Those who were brought here, anyway. Their sisters apparently decided that there were very few Knives who were worth the effort to bring, and he can't deny that that stings. There'd be more fighting if they were here, but shouldn't they have been given that choice? ] To finally maybe understand each other a little better.

[The younger of the pair watches. Not just for the flickers of changing emotion, but what he's doing as well, especially with the left hand. They had similar experiences, which had to mean that too was a prosthetic, which explained some of the metal that didn't quite look right for a glove.

Confirmation follows. A new arm.]

But he's still family, and I did shoot him. If he's less friendly because of it, it's not too hard to guess why.

[That's important, isn't it? Even if he cut off an arm, it wasn't until after Vash shot him, and could have outright killed him with a child's crappy aim and emotional responses.

Maybe the prosthetics would be better if they had a lot of tools worked in. Like a small spade.]

It might be different, if I .. if anyone can find him. We were alone for so long. But now there's more of us, and well, at least some of you are all grown up, and that means things must have worked out eventually!

[No it didn't.]

When I still thought you and the others were .. actually different people, I thought it was wonderful. He might not listen to me, but adults? And our own kind? Would it be mean to just not tell him, if I figured maybe just all boy plants looked the same, the way our sisters do, he might too. It could work!

[And then there's no reason for fighting anymore!]

Edited 2023-07-18 20:31 (UTC)

[ What a neat thought! A whole bunch of plants that looked just like them and their brother, just miles and miles of family, all with the same face. What a different life that would have been! They never would have been alone, ever. ]

I haven't seen any other versions of our brother aside from the very old one, who lives out by Chisler's Hill, and the little one who lives near the ruins of July. But if he's here, he'll show up sooner or later!

[ With both hands, he combs his hair down roughly against his scalp, trying to get the mess to lay down. It really doesn't want to, but he'll keep at it for a minute or so and see if he can beat it into submission. ]

I don't think he'd listen to anyone at the age you are now, me or another plant, or even R-- rrremarkably enough, the independents who came from Earth! [ Whew. Almost messed that one up! ] If he does show up though, maybe he'd listen to himself? The old Knives... I won't say that he can be trusted, but these days he's only attacking with words.

[ That's not ebntirely fair -- his words clearly hadn't been meant as attacks, but just like Vash can't help taking blame, Knives can't help casting it. Maybe that's something they can change, now that they have time. He can hope, at least. ]

I know you've got a place to stay here in the city, but you've got friends out in July, if you need them.

[ If he said hey, Rem's in July! and then she'd vanished by the time he got there? Vash doesn't want to think about how he'd feel. Better to let it be a surprise, for all that he wants desperately for this version of himself to know she's alive and well. It'll happen. They'll get there. ]

In and around Octovern -- later

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a somewhat edit.

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