nomans_land | a new arrival

a new arrival

i. december

ii.desert walking

Everyone had left. So he had to go somewhere else. He had no idea where, but. He'd managed to find a wide brimmed hat, and had added to his shopping bag whatever supplies he had. And he was walking to the next town he had seen on the maps. Which he'd also taken. There would be someone somewhere, right?iii. octovern

iv. wildcard

ooc: have another idea? he'll pop up there! brackets and prose all good, will match.

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Finding his way back from the little cabin Knives had holed up in, after he'd been so unceremoniously pulled there from across reality, had taken more time than he'd liked. He'd barely been able to make it back before the room rental he'd paid for for a few days had been up and he'd lost all of his belongings, and honestly, that had been scarier than the fact that he'd been thrown across the world to who knew where. He didn't own much, never had. But the things he did own were his, and after so long, and living with so little, he had become rather attached to them.

Still, it meant that he hadn't had time to really look around the city properly, to try and get in to where the Plants were being held and try and talk with them, and he was out of money for the room.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; truth be told, he probably spent more nights sleeping under the stars than actually in hotel beds, anyway, which didn't exactly help his back aches. But when you lived your entire life on the road, traveling from town to town without any real job to speak of, money was tight, and modern conveniences were even tighter.

So he'd been wandering around town, his coat stuffed in his duffel bag and his hair styled down, looking for odd jobs that he could do that would get him some money for food. It was easier to get lost in a large crowd, and Octovern was if nothing else, for the past year, one giant sea of people. Still, he didn't want to take any chances.

For the past few hours, he'd been helping to wait a tiny cafe, and by midday, the morning rush had died down and the owner was talking about closing up for the evening. He was listening quietly as she counted out the tips when he saw, through the front windows, a small form taking shelter under the awning. They had to have been very young, dark haired and clothes that looked like they'd seen no small amount of wear and tear, and he couldn't help but watch with growing concern.

Where were their parents? Were they one of the refugees? What were they doing wandering the crowded streets like that?

He was so worried that when the owner called back out to him again, he didn't immediately respond, and gave a start when he felt her tugging at his arm.

"What? Oh, Sorry! You said something?"

"I said here's your wages, Val. Are you ok?" He gave an embarrassed sort of laugh and scratched the back of his head, turning to glance at the child by the window again before looking back at the cafe's owner.

"Oh, yeah, sorry! I just...have you seen that kid around here before?"

There was a soft hum as she glanced over, and then shook her head.

"Not that I can remember. Why?" He shrugged, his gaze lingering on the tiny form. "Well, maybe he's one of the refugees. It's hard to keep track of everyone, these days. Here you go, sweetie, and go ahead and take one of the leftover sandwiches out of the cooler display when you head out. Will we see you again tomorrow?"

He turned, blinked at her a little owlishly before smiling and taking the small handful of bills she held out to him, and shrugged again.

"Sure, if you could still use the help. I think I'm gonna be here for a while."

"Honey, we're always in need of a helpin' hand. Just come on back in the mornin' around 7, and we'll get started."

He waved at her as he walked towards the front of the store, chirping out a friendly "Sure thing, see you tomorrow!" before he paused to glance down at the sandwiches that hadn't sold for the day, selecting a simple ham and cheese with lettuce and tomatoes and tiny nuts and seeds in the bread. And then he turned back to the door, happy to see that the kid was still leaning under the shade of the awning, and walked outside the door to join him.

"Hey. You hungry? I had a lunch earlier, so I'm not really hungry, and it seems a shame to let it go to waste." He slid down to sit on the sidewalk against the front of the cafe and, with the sandwich held out in his hand, turned to look up at the kid, now that he was close enough to see him properly. Strangely, something in the back of his mind twitched, some tiny bell of familiarity ringing out. Had he met him before? Had he seen him wandering through town? Or had he been in one of the refugee ships he'd seen sailing in back home? It was an unusual sensation, and he was usually pretty good at remembering everyone's faces.

Nicholas startled at being addressed, shoulders going up defensively, but then he glares.

"Have you spiked it or somethin'?"

He'd heard enough about strangers offering kids food.

He looked a little shocked at the question, blinking owlishly with his big, sad eyes, and oh, his accent was familiar. Someone from the December area, and...puzzle pieces seemed to shift in his head in an uncomfortable way; he had about the right eye and hair and skin color, the face shape was pretty close. He shunted the thought off before it could get planted too firmly in his mind, though. He couldn't think about that, not right now.

"No, it was made this morning. If it makes you feel better, I'll take a bite first. You can even choose the piece."

Such a sad assumption for someone his age to already be accustomed to worrying about. What had his life been like, where that seemed like the thing he needed to expect from a simple sandwich?

Nicholas glared, because those big blue sad eyes were simply unfair and he had no idea why they were so sad and it wasn't his business anyway. Except there was far too much sadness around and he huffed.

"... might help." He rubbed the back of his head, looking away. Thanks. There's a lot of refugees and I'm still looking for a job." And looking for people.

The sad look in his eyes settled just a bit when a bit of the suspicion went away, and his smile began to creep back up as he held the sandwich halves out a little longer, waiting to see if he would choose one. When instead, he seemed to open up just a bit more, he used the time he was talking to take a bite of one of the wedges, chewing on it while gesturing over at him with the other.

So. The kid was trying to find a job? He was a bit young to have to be worrying about that, but...it wasn't unheard of for kids to help out around the house, in smaller communities, and if he'd come here with the rest of the refugees, it would make sense that he, and anyone he'd come with, would be in need of some kind of income to make ends meet while everything was sorted.

"Things are a bit tough right now, yeah. There are so many adults who'll be looking for jobs, it'll be harder for someone your age to find one. What about your parents? Family? Or...are you by yourself?"

That little thought crept back up into his head despite him trying to push it down. December hadn't been one of the places as heavily hit by the time the survivors had been taken to Octovern. Maybe he was mishearing the cadence in his voice, but it sounded so familiar.

And he'd already met people from vastly different points in time than himself. Maybe-...

No. He really needed to stop looking for the people he was missing in the faces of people he met. It wasn't healthy, or helpful.

Nicholas did reach for the other half of the sandwich, nibbling on it slowly. He had been rationing the groceries he'd been out to get, and it hadn't been that long yet, but he did appreciate it, all the same.

He blinked at the man, then snorted slightly at the mention of parents, his look only softening when that was amended to family.

"I went for groceries and then somethin' happened and the entire city was empty. 'm looking for my family. Getting at least odd jobs'll mean when I find them," his voice didn't waver at when....

.... much.

"Miss Melanie will be less worried. She knows I can take care of myself, but better to prove'er right again, right?"

The look that crossed his face when he heard the name Miss Melanie was...complicated, and refused to settle on one for long. Shock, hope, sadness, relief, it all warred in his expressions until he finally managed to make himself settle into something a little more neutral, though the smile he gave was still edged with something that was hard to place.

"Is that the Miss Melanie that runs the orphanage in December? I saw her and the kids on a refugee ship...not too long ago. If that's who you're looking for, I know she'll be happy to see you again."

He had completely forgotten about the sandwich half in his hands as he tried to smile a bit more brightly, hating it but unable to stop the horrible, painful little stab of hope that ached in his chest as he tried to work up the courage to ask the question that was on his mind.

"What's your name, by the way? I'm-..." His voice stuttered, and he glanced around only briefly before glancing back at him, and then turned back to give him a shy sort of look as he held out his hand, offering it for a handshake as his voice dropped to almost a whisper amongst the hubbub of the crowd. "My name is Vash. But people know me as Val around here. The guys that came in on the spaceships are looking for a guy named Vash, and they've got me a little spooked, so I'm going by a nickname for now, until I can figure out if they're nice people or not. But if we both know the same Miss Melanie, she'll know me by my real name when we find her. Do you think you can keep it a secret until we do? I know she's with nice people."

Nicholas couldn't read all the things on the man's face, not yet familiar enough, but he could see that something... was upsetting him. He just couldn't understand what.

But then. Then he gave him specific information, confirmation, that Miss Melanie and the kids were all right, or had been, recently, alive and taken care of. The relief at the news was immediate, shoulders sagging released from the tension he'd been holding himself with suddenly draining out of him.

"Oh... They're... they're alright." He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. "Thanks. Val. 'm Nicholas. Nice t'meetcha?"

That's what people should say to each other. Right? With kids it was kind of always different, though at the same time, Vash seemed as upset and in pain right now as a lot of those who came to the orphanage. That somehow made it easier and harder to deal with. With kids, he had some idea of what could have happened, and even how to make them feel better. With adults, he had no knowledge.

Actually, he would offer food...

He stared at the sandwich in his hand, and then at the man. Then carefully returned to nibbling.

"Um... spaceships?" He'd been focused on finding his family. Kind of ignoring a lot of other things.

Like the whole terrans thing.

The obvious relief in that tiny form was like a stab to the heart, and he wanted to wrap him up in his arms and give him a hug. But the confirmation of that name was even worse, and he felt like all of the breath left like he'd be punched right in the chest, grinning wide as he gave a short, choked laugh.

He refused to let himself cry, no matter how much his eyes burned with it and how the confirmation made him feel both gutted and elated at the same time. Instead, he just nodded, doing his best to shove all of the tangled emotions down into the pit of his stomach so he wouldn't spook him any more than he already was. The last thing Nicholas needed was some weird old man getting even weirder on him , when all he wanted was to find his family. He was so small.

"Yeah, they're just fine, I promise! We can go meet them as soon as you're ready. I'm really happy to get to meet you, too, Nicholas." His smile went a little tight, and he forced himself to breathe in carefully. "Melanie will be happy to see you. She was...really worried about you."

And it was the truth, wasn't it? The looks of horror and worry on all of their faces as they watched Wolfwood give his life for them was still fresh in his mind. Bringing him back would be such a gift, for so many people. He was so loved, precious to so many people even if the man he knew had never believed it. And that thought just made him want to cry even more.

But he continued chugging along, forcing it all down again at the question and blinking at him in mild confusion before he realized that he must not know what was going on. It left him gaping for a few moments, his mouth working as he tried to figure out what to say, how much to tell him and how much he would be able to understand as opposed to how much would be too much. Kids were smart, they caught things adults didn't more often than most people realized. But that didn't mean they should have the weight of certain things put on them before they were ready to deal with them, and more than anything, the last child he wanted to hurt right now was sitting right beside him.

Finally, he nodded and glanced over his shoulder, down the street, and gestured to the curve of SEEDS 3 where it hovered over the far edge of town, and just nearby to the shape of other, less-dilapidated space-faring vessels. To someone who knew the city the way it had looked before, they stuck out like a sore thumb. But he could imagine in the midst of all the people and chaos the city was in right now, to someone so young who'd never seen Octovern as it used to be, they just became background noise.

"Over there," he pointed out the jagged hull of SEEDS 3. "There's one of the old ships from the space-faring age. It still works just a bit, and there are people who live on it. That's where my friends are, it's where Melanie and the kids went, the last time I saw them. And over there are new ships from Earth, where the old ships came from hundreds of years ago. The first ship had been sending out distress signals, ever since the Big Fall, and they finally got a reply, and now there are new people bringing supplies on the new ships."

He let his hand drop and turned back to smile at Nicholas again, and found that answering the question had at least distracted enough for a few moments that he was a bit more composed.

"A few months ago, a couple groups of people started fighting over what resources we have here, and that's why everyone came to Octovern. It was where the last of the Plants were. But the fighting is over, now, and the spaceships came just at the end of it, so now everyone is trying to figure out how to get people back home, and send the Plants back where they belong. And the people on the spaceships are...looking for the two people who caused the fighting. But there are some people who worry they might want to...I don't know." he shrugged, and for a brief second, his gaze went unfocused, a bit fearful, and detached as it was from his feelings surrounding Nicholas, he wasn't being quite as mindful to mask it from view. "The people who were fighting were...kind of powerful. There's some worry that the people on the spaceships want to...make them keep fighting, just not each other."

He shook the fog out of his mind, refocusing and giving him another sad little smile.

"Which is why it's not really a good idea for me to use my real name, if it's the same as one of the people they're looking for. I don't like fighting people, I'm glad all of the fighting stopped. I don't like seeing people get hurt."

Nicholas was staring.

Then he let out a long breath.

"You don't hafta smile for me when y'feel like cryin'. I'm not small enough that I'll start cryin' when you do." A pause, and then he carefully added, "I won't ask if you don't wanna talk about it."

He would be curious. He already was. But there were things that people wanted, or needed, to not say.

He also would have assumed that people close to him were hurt in the fighting he was talking about, but he seemed grow calmer rather than more upset talking about it, so Nicholas had no idea how to help.

After chewing a little bit on his lower lip, and a little bit on the sandwich, he manages, mouth a little full. "Thanksh. 't makes shen-- 'mean, thank you, it makes sense. It was... kind of hard to make sense of anythin'." He knew things were being left out, but Vash was not making an effort to hide that, and Nicholas could appreciate that. He didn't need to know everything, and knowing something was a start.

"A little bit of fightin's okay, but the kind of big fightin' that seemed to've happened in December, that can't be good. So not finding those two to make'em fight's probably better."

It seemed reasonable to him, to avoid more destruction.

Oh. Oh.

Apparently Wolfwood's ability to read him like an open book had been a lifelong thing, then? The mask he had tried to keep up cracked just a bit harder at that, and he let it fall away willingly, just a bit. He wasn't going to lie to him, when he could already tell he wasn't alright, but he was still a bit guarded as he gave him a watery little smile.

"I know. I just...don't like to worry people. It's easier if I smile, you know? That's just how I manage. But thank you." For not asking, but that felt a little too much like confirming there was something in particular that was upsetting him, so he didn't say it.

The smile on his face tried to settle for a bit, when he nodded, and thinking about how things must have seemed for him in a general sense, detached from the specifics of who he was and what had happened, let him relax just a little bit.

"I can't imagine any of this was easy to make sense of, no. People had a hard enough knowing what to do when it was happening. But...things should be safe, now. Or, well, as safe as they usually are." Maybe a little safer, even, if people actually took what the Sisters had tried to achieve to heart. He wasn't sure how well that had been going back in the reality he was from, but at the very least, some seemed like they had been trying.

And that was a good thing, right? These things took time. In the early days, things had been even worse, the fighting even more intense between the survivors. But eventually, they'd settled. Not perfectly, no, but life had been possible, people had even been happy, in their own way. So he knew that if change were going to happen, it would just be a matter of time. And sometimes hope was hard to come by, but he'd always been able to find at least a little, when it came to people.

But then the mention of the fight in December made the smile fall, and he glanced away, his brow furrowing as he stared out into the crowd. Of course he would have seen the damage. Had he seen the grave? He hoped not. He hoped he never had to learn it was there, or who was in it. Let him grow up and live his life never knowing another man with his name was buried outside his home.

"The fight in December was...very bad, yes. The fighting here was worse, but...I think December was scarier, at least to the people who saw it. It's good you weren't there when it happened."

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a new arrival

III: Because Nick is a bit preoccupied rn and Ghostwoo would be very careful to avoid being noticed

awww but fair.

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