The people of this city are looking for a Vash. The Humanoid Typhoon, destroyer of July, the ruination of Augusta, the demon who sundered Jeneora Rock and put a hole in one of the moons. And as an afterthought, his brother. It's so hard for Knives to find a proper comparison of how Vash looks and behaves, there should be alarms ringing at such words, but it's been so long and maybe that's just how it is, how it's supposed to be. Maybe Vash is supposed to be smaller than him, maybe he's supposed to be desperately confused without him, the boldness of childhood buried under adult thoughts and behaviors. Knives doesn't let go of his posters or maps but does return the embrace, in the same movement pulling backwards as soon as there's a flicker of motion that doesn't come from a human shape but a root or vine. Alleys, doors, it'll do, any cover is fine and he's not interested in private conversations where just any vulgar eye might roam. There were posters. People might be looking. Vines and beautiful flowers' origin takes time to grind its way through his shock. "Stop, stop. Hold on. Let me.. .. let me look at you."

His brother was dead, dead, small and fragile and buried, and this is not his brother but he can put that away and for a little while pretend that miracles do happen and he's been given the impossible. Something is profoundly wrong here and he ignores it. There's still to his searching gaze enough similarities that he could imagine that small brother grown, they share a mark beneath one eye, his hair is the appropriate shade of burnished gold, and there's a vine with stars trapped in petals to go with it. Vash was a geoplant, the thought's a triumph and confirmation, of course Vash wasn't useless, of course he had powers like any plant should, of course it'd be flowers, beautiful and strange. Now that he knew it, it seemed impossible to ever have thought otherwise.