He loves his sisters, but some days he can’t help but wonder if they’re messing with him. Is it commentary on how slowly he walks, compared to their ability to disappear him from one place and drop him instantly into another? (Well, more or less instantly – he loses time in those disappearances, he’s learned. Sometimes what feels like a week to him is months to the rest of the world.) Sure, it’s thanks to them vanishing him that he knows about Tessla, and Knives, and was able to find Nai again, but it’s also deeply frustrating to be traveling in one direction and suddenly find himself hundreds of miles away!
He hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of seeing July again, but he consoled himself with thoughts of Rem, and the little ones. By now, Wolfwood and the other Vash would be halfway to Mesa Probe, assuming that was their first stop. Vash let himself feel that jealousy burn through him, pushing it away step by step as he made his way up a particularly slippery sand dune. Maybe one day, that could be him and Wolfwood again, he thought, feet sinking into the soft sand. Out here, with nobody around for miles and miles to hear his thoughts or perceive his feelings, he could let himself want without anyone else the wiser. He could imagine a companion for himself, with dark hair and a ready smile, someone to laugh at him when he sank knee-deep into the shifting sands. Someone sturdy, but nimble, who could reach the top before he did, even with such a heavy weight on his back. Someone he could argue with under the hot suns, and sit quietly with after those suns fell away for the night. Someone to talk to, who understood him better than he understood himself. Someone he loved dearly.
His next step sank even deeper into the side of the dune, and it took a hard yank to wrench his foot free, sending him stumbling back a pace. That’s all it took for the whole side of the dune to shudder itself free, and the last thing Vash saw was a wave of sand, lifting his legs right up from beneath him and burying him in silt and dust.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been buried by a shifting dune, and he curled immediately into as tight a ball as he could, arms tight around his face and hoping that his duffle would end up somewhere nearby. He bumped into something hard as the sand carried him away, and he would have sworn that he heard a bell chime as his motion slowed. There was bedrock beneath him, he could tell, and the sand above him didn’t feel nearly as crushing as he knew it could have been. Hesitantly, he unfolded, raising his head and peering out of the sand…
…at himself. Himself, in an apron, standing in what looked like a diner.
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He hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of seeing July again, but he consoled himself with thoughts of Rem, and the little ones. By now, Wolfwood and the other Vash would be halfway to Mesa Probe, assuming that was their first stop. Vash let himself feel that jealousy burn through him, pushing it away step by step as he made his way up a particularly slippery sand dune. Maybe one day, that could be him and Wolfwood again, he thought, feet sinking into the soft sand. Out here, with nobody around for miles and miles to hear his thoughts or perceive his feelings, he could let himself want without anyone else the wiser. He could imagine a companion for himself, with dark hair and a ready smile, someone to laugh at him when he sank knee-deep into the shifting sands. Someone sturdy, but nimble, who could reach the top before he did, even with such a heavy weight on his back. Someone he could argue with under the hot suns, and sit quietly with after those suns fell away for the night. Someone to talk to, who understood him better than he understood himself. Someone he loved dearly.
His next step sank even deeper into the side of the dune, and it took a hard yank to wrench his foot free, sending him stumbling back a pace. That’s all it took for the whole side of the dune to shudder itself free, and the last thing Vash saw was a wave of sand, lifting his legs right up from beneath him and burying him in silt and dust.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been buried by a shifting dune, and he curled immediately into as tight a ball as he could, arms tight around his face and hoping that his duffle would end up somewhere nearby. He bumped into something hard as the sand carried him away, and he would have sworn that he heard a bell chime as his motion slowed. There was bedrock beneath him, he could tell, and the sand above him didn’t feel nearly as crushing as he knew it could have been. Hesitantly, he unfolded, raising his head and peering out of the sand…
…at himself. Himself, in an apron, standing in what looked like a diner.
What the hell.
“That’s not the one I meant!”
Hi, Vash. Sorry about the mess.