[ Do not ask me where the fuck they are in No Man's Land. Maybe in Augusta?? Being on the run without his brother in sight, phone damaged and semi-forgotten, Vash the Stampede sits at the counter in this little saloon. He's adjusted back to the usual lifestyle despite the weeks in some fucky murder game. Two months is nothing to him, though, and those memories are behind him now. The present is here, on this dustbowl of a planet, in this saloon in Augusta. Lay low. Stay quiet...
The establishment is not as popular as some other shops towards the front of the city and currently serves a couple of men off work this fine afternoon, but he prefers the quiet nowadays. It's quaint, minimally decorated, and carries a humble menu. Drinks being a mix of ale and spirits, then finger foods take up the rest of the listing.
He's only having alcohol, though. Every once in a while, he takes a sip as he chats with the bartender about mundane things while the television plays in the background. Technology is catching up! Satellites are still around, of course, but new entertainment comes with these new screens. An interview with the wanted Humanoid Typhoon, casted by ambitious and staunch journalist Meryl. The bartender asks what got him here, what does he do, if he has heard the news about Earth's onboarding plans, then the infamous daredevil himself and his megalomaniac brother... There are posters for those guys around the city, you know?
A lot of what Vash offers are non-answers or lies, but he seems cheerful enough with the smile on his face. Though tired, it's soft and bright. Somehow, he is unrecognizable when he has his hair down. I wrote up Vash is here. ]
[ It's been an interesting few days. Weeks. Months? Nebulous timeline. Not every day you just wake back up on your planet with the skies clear and Ark-free, head hurting from blurred memories of things he didn't technically experience but also should've...
Just as bad is seeing your own grave, a carved slate of stone on the ground with no name but a cross that stands out. He tries not to think about it too much, since he's here now, physical and breathing. It can just be a metaphor, some stupid, poetic something, about his old life... he was never the artsy kind though, so he just desecrates it (nobody will mind, it's his anyway) by taking his familiar cross in hand and setting off.
'Come look for me', his fucking ass. No Man's Land is huge and it took him two years last time. What he didn't expect was the little miss reportin' live, and the first time he saw it in a bar, he couldn't help but laugh in surprise. Of course he's still getting into trouble, and now it's more broadcast than ever. He dryly thanks the girls somewhere in the back of his mind for making this easier for him.
It's a mix of that and oddly serendipitous luck that he's able to narrow it down much faster this time, the bar doors opening. Just another pair of heavy footsteps to join the quiet and casual bustle behind him, a short walk, a little pause. And then a figure dressed in black sitting heavily in the counter seat next to Vash, large hat blocking the view. ]
'Scuse me. [ He is rude and apparently does not take the other free seats. ] Hey keep, I'll have what he's havin'.
[ First of all, this is as rude as standing next to a guy at the urinals. Second, why a big hat? Vash doesn't immediately lean away from the large hat that threatens to poke the side of his head, but slowly he does.
With narrowing eyes into a squint, he watches this newcomer for a moment before sipping his drink and setting his gaze on the glass rim. He considers pouring himself another glass until he hears this stranger's voice. A flood of emotions drown him, yet he schools his expression. Neutral with a hint of curiosity, betraying the soaring hope and expectation.
How could he ever forget this voice? He heard it recently, whatever nebulous time it has been, and remembers it so vividly it may as well haunt him.
Sorry, he's just going to wait and watch while the bartender brings Wolfwood a bottle. Vash is staring intently and intensely, though.
[ How could a person be so inconsiderate with their hat. Vash would not be blamed for almost pettily thinking that he's doing it on purpose.
Said stranger continues to sit there with an idle, relaxed aura... or so it seems. Practiced eyes may see the tension across the upper back and shoulders even through the longcoat, tanned fingers accepting the bottle and pouring himself a glass. ]
Wind and sandstorms take me wherever, just like anyone else. Lately been on a bit of a hunt, though.
Lookin' for someone. Real slippery guy. Remembered he likes hangin' out at bars so I thought I'd shoot my shot here.
[ Well... It dawn and Vash wakes up like clockwork. Normally, this would be where he meditates for three minutes tops, works out, then goes about his day as an outlaw, but today is different. He wakes up to find someone beside him, someone precious, and his usual plans have been replaced with a part-time job. It's a dream come true, not one that escapes him this time.
What he's met with isn't Wolfwood's face reflected by the crack of sunrise, but the crook of his shoulder. For now, he buries himself into it, takes Wolfwood in—his warmth, his scent, his presence, all of it reminds Vash of his kindness. Eventually, he gently pries himself away to prop his chin on a hand, elbow anchored onto the mattress, as he watches Wolfwood sleep.
His other hand reaches over to caress his cheek and brush the corner of his eye with a thumb, smoothing it over before he turns some of his hair behind his ear. ]
[ For all the bravado Wolfwood put up, he was actually pretty tired once sleep managed to claim him and he fell in deep. Sure, he hadn't been lying about not feeling tired or sleepy in the moment, but once sleep came for real, all bets were off. Blame it on his supernatural constitution, the freak of a body that was made to knit tiredness out like a wound. Days of continuous travel and odd jobs besides will do a guy in though, and the atmosphere here in their small and closed-off space, someplace that the subconscious part of his mind has stubbornly labeled safe doesn't help.
He grumbles despite the soft touches and the mounting heat of the first sunrise. He lived a few weeks without a schedule, he's not used to having one again yet. ]
Ngh.
[ His brows furrow ever-so-slightly in that annoyance of something trying to wake you when you don't want to, but it softens out very quick like it was never there. ]
[ Well... Vash thinks to himself that maybe it's better to let Wolfwood sleep in, so he gives him a kiss on the nose for a farewell. He's of the mind to get into the shower, take a quick rinse and towel dry his hair to let the suns come out and dry it for him on the way to the bakery, but he finds himself lingering.
Another prayer granted. Wolfwood is still here in the morning and a part of him wonders if this is more than he deserves. He had thought after losing Wolfwood, then Knives, that he was fated to travel alone with only ghosts to keep him company.
...
Since he's already lingering, he indulges himself to dispel the dark pall. Another kiss, but this time on the forehead, then departs for his morning routine. Once done, he returns to check if mister sleepy is awake. ]
[ Wolfwood doesn't dream very often, which he thinks is a boon. He's been plagued with nastiness for as long as he can remember, so a dreamless sleep is far preferable to a sleepless night overall. Even still, he usually has a tendency to wake up tired or unrested, distress still looming on the horizon.
Not today, though. For once in his life, he's relaxed -- not utterly, since he's not used to this yet, and he can never completely drop his guard when he's asleep, but relaxed enough that he doesn't jolt awake at any motion, any sound. The kiss is lovely, and though he isn't dreaming, something pleasant stirs in his conscious, not in a rush to wake him.
He learns today that the general sounds of someone else getting ready can be surprisingly pleasant sounds to wake up to. Vash will never know how much he was actually asleep and how much he was just being stubborn about not waking up, but he does get up slowly with the blanket still draped over his shoulders and letting his eyes adjust to the light. He doesn't care to see much, it's hard to miss the lanky silhouette. ]
You leavin' soon?
[ He has the bad case of the morning gravel. Needs water... coffee is a good substitute right? ]
[ Eventually they'll get on the road, as is their wont. They're both rootless wanderers, and to eventually move again is their lot but things are a little bit different now. No imposing final fortress to land on, only their blank ticket.
Well, mostly. They had a stop in mind after all, so it's only natural they would go. It'll be several days' of travel but Vash knows the way home and Wolfwood has a fairly decent memory. They can cough up funds for a sandsteamer part of the way and then switch between hitchhiking and walking for the remainder, especially the last to protect the sanctity of Ship Five's hiddenness. No more Knives, but old habits die hard. ]
How often do you actually visit them anyway?
[ While they're going up the stupid. What are they called, the mountain car zipline thingy. That for some reason exists to take them up the giant land structure leading up to the sandstorm that hides the ship. ]
[ There's no urgency for the trip this time... No Gung-ho Guns threatening the innocent lives of the colony. They can have a leisurely trek back with a couple of stops to enjoy the scenery. Maybe have a drink, stock up on cash, buy souvenirs, then make their way to the ship without a heavy heart. Even the air is easier to breathe...
No more apocalypse. No more Knives.
In the rising cart, Vash is sitting a little closer to Wolfwood than their first rodeo on the zip line. They aren't locking arms or holding hands or anything... He just... Wants to be close, though discreet about it. ]
Haven't been to the colony since the last time we visited. [ Which sounds awful, so he raises his hand and gestures with a pointed finger. ] But I saw a lot of them when we were preparing to face off Knives at Octovern!
[ He says that like it'd make him a good son when it has been some months since the end of the dark ages. Incorrigible, he's a bad son. ]
[ The first time up was pretty rough -- heavy-handed conversations laced with the thin air of careful defensiveness from both sides. The air was bitter and more hostile then, back when he still didn't respect nor believe Vash's way of life was real and the words he laid out to justify his survivalist way of life: I'm only human, after all.
Funny how things turn out, with him now casually tipping over to lean closer to Vash's personal space. Just a little bit. ]
I remember that girl complainin' that you don't visit often enough. Thought she was gonna start announcin' that she was gonna marry you when she's all grown up over the breakfast table.
[ Which, like, suggests Vash is gone for years at a time, so. Not having gone back for a year or a little over is nothing, and understandable besides when the literal goddamn apocalypse was happening. ]
[ They've changed as people since then... Because of each other, whether they want to admit it or not. Vash had always been stubborn and stood to the sea of time as a steadfast pillar. It took years for him to develop his ideologies after losing all he had, push them to their limits with each scar and stitch, and yet Wolfwood had tested them. He'd remind him again of reality and, while Vash clung on to his rose-tinted glasses, he was forced to face that reality in time.
Despite the plunging darkness, he's grateful to have learned a lesson and understand the worldview unlike his own—it let him love more. Grateful despite the guilt that weighs on his shoulders as they approach the ship. He has more blood on his hands than the last he's seen his family and the time spent on the cart is spent quietly repenting for it. It's spent asking for forgiveness in silence. What is this place if not a confessional? There's even a priest beside him.
But... Seeing the other man from the corner of his eye, how he leans closer to, it lessens the weight of the cross he tried to bear. Vash feels his spirits lift and shifts closer so that Wolfwood could lean and rest against him, if he wanted to. With Wolfwood, he feels he belongs more than anywhere else. It's selfish, he knows. ]
Don't remind me... [ There's a weary sigh as he rubs his neck. ] She might actually start talking about wedding plans this time.
[ It isn't that annoying or inconvenient for him. Just another thing to dodge, but he turns to face Wolfwood now. ]
Feeling all right?
[ Since the orphanage is temporarily staying here until they rebuild. ]
[ We can pretend that they celebrated Brad's birthday and he can finally drink now, so there were drinks for fun! People got extremely drunk there and Vash told Wolfwood to go on ahead to their room as he helps escort their intoxicated to their own. It won't take long, considering after maybe twenty minutes upon Wolfwood's return to their capsule Vash will sneak into their room... with...
Well, a couple of bottles. It's beer, mostly, maybe two of whiskey, then this fancy looking wine bottle. In his other hand is
a large wedge of cheese and just a fucking log of salami. Hello, Wolfwood. ]
[ Congrats on finally being legal Brad however old you are. Wolfwood will have a few drinks just to be social but as is his usual tendency, he doesn't indulge too heavily. Everyone here is so friendly and kind, but he's still somewhat stilted smiles -- still an outsider around this happy family, and at one point the thought crosses his mind that this is probably how Vash sees himself around most humans. It makes Wolfwood consider that even though the ship isn't for him, he's glad it's there for Vash.
Also he's a dick and he will be totally amused at Brad getting ultra-smashed. WEAK BOY. He'll retire first sure, shuffling away back to their lodgings. A pace once, twice around the room, stand and stare at the wall. He's pretty used to managing on his own but he never really got the hang of it sometimes. When Vash returns, he just glances back with a raised brow at his haul. ]
The hell's that for? You gonna eat that like a cake?
[ Just imagines Vash taking a huge bite out of the cheese and salami log. ]
[ I imagine Brad and Wolfwood probably had some silly banter where it is more cringe and embarrassing on Brad's part. Also, I'll give Vash a party hat. Wolfwood could have one, too, but he can also have taken it off.
Vash's nose scrunches at that question... Eat cheese like a cake? honestly i would and i think if Vash was starving he'd also just eat a whole cheese wedge ]
No? We're supposed to slice some small pieces! [ Says Vash who brought whole salami log and cheese wedge. Don't worry. They have knives somewhere. ] They're supposed to complement the wine.
[ There's a pause as he considers something while looking at Wolfwood. ]
[ What are they, fancy people doing a charcuterie. Wolfwood isn't cultured. Admittedly he does glance back at all the alcohol Vash brought with him, impressed by how he really managed to carry all of this back without dropping any. He assumes Vash didn't drop any. ]
[ They're still with the colony and it's been a week now, so they've gotten cozy. They probably took a little camping trip on one of the grassy platforms around the ship a couple of days ago kind of cozy. Sure, they camped before, but it's for the novelty. It's about soft ground underneath them without the grains of sand, instead blades of grass, and watching the stars without worry.
Whether Wolfwood has taken steps to rekindle what relationships he had with the orphanage, Vash so far hasn't pried. He's watched him very carefully from the corner of his eye as he's juggling his own very large family affairs. There have been new names to remember, birthdays and graduations to attend, and Joseph finally having the aesthetic down for his wedding. Sometimes Vash drops encouragement to approach, a little push, and maybe that has helped. Maybe it hasn't.
Despite the nudges, he gives Wolfwood the space he needs.
That's all shut out when they're in Vash's capsule room, back to enclosed spaces too small for both of them. I'm going to assign Vash showering second, so he comes out of the bathroom while ruffling his damp black hair with a towel. Is Wolfwood still in the room? If he is, Vash is going to admire him with the usual unnerving stare. I don't know how long since their reunion, but it still takes getting used to seeing him, to hearing his voice so clearly... He had missed him so much—even though Wolfwood's here, he finds himself missing him in his dreams, too. ]
[ It felt weird at first, given how he's only really used to sand, grit, and stone. Sure, they had greenery in the Underground but the situation itself was too tense for him to really get any enjoyment out of it.
Wolfwood's been slowly warming up to it though, at least here. He's still of the mind that at times, it feels a little too peaceful, to the point where it feels a little wrong and that sets him a bit on edge, but gradually he's learning to indulge and relax the stiffness in his shoulders a little.
The kids are fine, for the most part. They're still curious about him, and some have outright told him that he looks just like their big brother -- something that still gives him grief despite the thin smile and nonchalant 'Yeah?' he puts out. Melanie always gives him that look of concern and he always ignores it, albeit a little shamefully now. It's fine, he'd rather be a different person, let them keep their image of little Nico separate from what Wolfwood's become. He bribes them in lollipops to share with their siblings and go play, and watching them be happy with the Colony, moving on from the terror of the Orphanage attack is his version of quiet and peace.
At the end of the day, they retire, how every day ends. Some days Wolfwood goes out for a spot of fresh air or a smoke before returning, but by the end of the night, he's there. Tonight he's hogging the bed while Vash showers, an unlit cigarette between his teeth because of his bad oral fixation habit. One hand tucked behind his head, the other mentally counting beads on a rosary. He doesn't react when Vash emerges but after a stretch of silence and being stared at, he opens an eye and looks at him. ]
[ They have a little stare, letting reality sink in for the nth time, before Vash circles back to being normal. He ruffles his hair a little more with the towel so it's no longer wet, then tosses it over the back of the chair so he can crawl onto bed.
There's nooo spaceee for himmm so he's hovering over and whines pathetically. ]
[ They had a nice visit at the colony, close yet distant with their loved ones, but it's time to hit the road. Why? It isn't quite adventure. Not really discovery. Vash can't even describe it as wanderlust, either. For him, it still stems from anxiety and restlessness, but it has slowly tapered off to being an enjoyable trek thanks to company. Maybe travel can be to enjoy... Company.
Unfortunately, it's Vash's turn to drive Angelina while Wolfwood takes a nap in the sidecar... Wolfwood has gotten to nap for a decent amount of time! More than normal, actually! Please appreciate his marginal progress.
[ Why does this title somehow read like a Muse song or something.
Wolfwood is ready to go out whenever Vash is. Similarly he suffers from the itch to move around, never stay in one place overlong. It's the mild paranoia instilled in him from his assassin-mercenary days, the world being out to get him and more, the need to avoid it all and stay alive. But in a more plain sense, he just likes traveling.
Wolfwood still drives a majority of the time, presumably. He's pretty used to it after all, and when he's being a bitch, he can't trust Vash to not careen him off into a dune again. It has been better though. He doesn't even have terrible nightmares when he dozes off, at least not so bad as before. Certain demons are still a bit hard to shake off, but it's so much easier when they're not hounding at his door and he can take his life much more easily.
Unfortunately, of course they do. He's jolted from some pleasant buzz of nothing, not a concrete dream but far preferable to red flashes of blood. Far preferable to the faceful of yellow sand and rocks he's suddenly eating. Like clockwork, he shoves himself out of it and starts yelling. ]
[ While Wolfwood is yelling at him, he will see that half of Vash's body (front half) is down under the sand like cartoon ostriches. His lower half doesn't twitch, having resigned to crashing, but hey? Despite the crash, Angelina looks pristine even though she's also lying in the sand with metal and lacquer touching rough granules. The engineers really tweaked her...... Don't be too mad.
Anyway, Vash does end up moving not to Wolfwood's voice, but the fact that the sand he's stuck in starts shifting. Unfortunately, he doesn't have enough strength to pull himself out? It's badlands rumble and he's getting swallowed by something similar to quicksand. ]
It's a time of the year when it's... ostensibly... a bit cooler... maybe. Who knows what the NML calendar looks like but until otherwise proven wrong, it's close-enough to Earth, but with two suns. October exists because if France can, why can't the spooky month.
Now Wolfwood has never been one to be a celebrator of holidays, especially not those more frivolous. They didn't have money, okay. But being with the ship and all the other kids and all, folks who are considerably more familiar with old Earth customs than planet natives like him and the orphanage... well, sometimes they hear about things from the old world. And one of those things is a silly little activity called Halloween. Come on, they mentioned candy. What kid isn't a sucker for a small sugary treat.
So they've been preparing something, a little in-house version of it. Wolfwood is standing here as adults and kids shuffle around alike, pasting cutouts of jack-o-lanterns on the walls. ]
Who comes up with this stuff?
[ Why pumpkins? Then again, says he, sharing a name with a Saint rumoured to come down the chimneys so you know. ]
[ Are they visiting the colony for Halloween? Well, wherever they are, Vash is helping kids with their costumes even though you can barely call it that. It's mostly drapes and hats until a handful of adults with time on their hands decide they can sew a little more and make some props for them.
There are a bunch of little monsters running amok, enjoying their make-believe scenarios and having forgotten about the treats to come later in the night. ]
People?
[ This is the dumbest response he can muster, but he's also distracted with the children telling him he also has to dress up! He has to join their little vampire coven! ]
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REUNION.
The establishment is not as popular as some other shops towards the front of the city and currently serves a couple of men off work this fine afternoon, but he prefers the quiet nowadays. It's quaint, minimally decorated, and carries a humble menu. Drinks being a mix of ale and spirits, then finger foods take up the rest of the listing.
He's only having alcohol, though. Every once in a while, he takes a sip as he chats with the bartender about mundane things while the television plays in the background. Technology is catching up! Satellites are still around, of course, but new entertainment comes with these new screens. An interview with the wanted Humanoid Typhoon, casted by ambitious and staunch journalist Meryl. The bartender asks what got him here, what does he do, if he has heard the news about Earth's onboarding plans, then the infamous daredevil himself and his megalomaniac brother... There are posters for those guys around the city, you know?
A lot of what Vash offers are non-answers or lies, but he seems cheerful enough with the smile on his face. Though tired, it's soft and bright. Somehow, he is unrecognizable when he has his hair down. I wrote up Vash is here. ]
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Just as bad is seeing your own grave, a carved slate of stone on the ground with no name but a cross that stands out. He tries not to think about it too much, since he's here now, physical and breathing. It can just be a metaphor, some stupid, poetic something, about his old life... he was never the artsy kind though, so he just desecrates it (nobody will mind, it's his anyway) by taking his familiar cross in hand and setting off.
'Come look for me', his fucking ass. No Man's Land is huge and it took him two years last time. What he didn't expect was the little miss reportin' live, and the first time he saw it in a bar, he couldn't help but laugh in surprise. Of course he's still getting into trouble, and now it's more broadcast than ever. He dryly thanks the girls somewhere in the back of his mind for making this easier for him.
It's a mix of that and oddly serendipitous luck that he's able to narrow it down much faster this time, the bar doors opening. Just another pair of heavy footsteps to join the quiet and casual bustle behind him, a short walk, a little pause. And then a figure dressed in black sitting heavily in the counter seat next to Vash, large hat blocking the view. ]
'Scuse me. [ He is rude and apparently does not take the other free seats. ] Hey keep, I'll have what he's havin'.
[ Fingers drumming once on the table. Hmm. ]
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With narrowing eyes into a squint, he watches this newcomer for a moment before sipping his drink and setting his gaze on the glass rim. He considers pouring himself another glass until he hears this stranger's voice. A flood of emotions drown him, yet he schools his expression. Neutral with a hint of curiosity, betraying the soaring hope and expectation.
How could he ever forget this voice? He heard it recently, whatever nebulous time it has been, and remembers it so vividly it may as well haunt him.
Sorry, he's just going to wait and watch while the bartender brings Wolfwood a bottle. Vash is staring intently and intensely, though.
"What brings you here, friendly stranger?" ]
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Said stranger continues to sit there with an idle, relaxed aura... or so it seems. Practiced eyes may see the tension across the upper back and shoulders even through the longcoat, tanned fingers accepting the bottle and pouring himself a glass. ]
Wind and sandstorms take me wherever, just like anyone else. Lately been on a bit of a hunt, though.
Lookin' for someone. Real slippery guy. Remembered he likes hangin' out at bars so I thought I'd shoot my shot here.
Sound familiar?
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DAYBREAK BAKERY
What he's met with isn't Wolfwood's face reflected by the crack of sunrise, but the crook of his shoulder. For now, he buries himself into it, takes Wolfwood in—his warmth, his scent, his presence, all of it reminds Vash of his kindness. Eventually, he gently pries himself away to prop his chin on a hand, elbow anchored onto the mattress, as he watches Wolfwood sleep.
His other hand reaches over to caress his cheek and brush the corner of his eye with a thumb, smoothing it over before he turns some of his hair behind his ear. ]
Hey.
[ Tries a gentle wake up first. ]
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He grumbles despite the soft touches and the mounting heat of the first sunrise. He lived a few weeks without a schedule, he's not used to having one again yet. ]
Ngh.
[ His brows furrow ever-so-slightly in that annoyance of something trying to wake you when you don't want to, but it softens out very quick like it was never there. ]
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Another prayer granted. Wolfwood is still here in the morning and a part of him wonders if this is more than he deserves. He had thought after losing Wolfwood, then Knives, that he was fated to travel alone with only ghosts to keep him company.
...
Since he's already lingering, he indulges himself to dispel the dark pall. Another kiss, but this time on the forehead, then departs for his morning routine. Once done, he returns to check if mister sleepy is awake. ]
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Not today, though. For once in his life, he's relaxed -- not utterly, since he's not used to this yet, and he can never completely drop his guard when he's asleep, but relaxed enough that he doesn't jolt awake at any motion, any sound. The kiss is lovely, and though he isn't dreaming, something pleasant stirs in his conscious, not in a rush to wake him.
He learns today that the general sounds of someone else getting ready can be surprisingly pleasant sounds to wake up to. Vash will never know how much he was actually asleep and how much he was just being stubborn about not waking up, but he does get up slowly with the blanket still draped over his shoulders and letting his eyes adjust to the light. He doesn't care to see much, it's hard to miss the lanky silhouette. ]
You leavin' soon?
[ He has the bad case of the morning gravel. Needs water... coffee is a good substitute right? ]
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LONG WAYS HOME
Well, mostly. They had a stop in mind after all, so it's only natural they would go. It'll be several days' of travel but Vash knows the way home and Wolfwood has a fairly decent memory. They can cough up funds for a sandsteamer part of the way and then switch between hitchhiking and walking for the remainder, especially the last to protect the sanctity of Ship Five's hiddenness. No more Knives, but old habits die hard. ]
How often do you actually visit them anyway?
[ While they're going up the stupid. What are they called, the mountain car zipline thingy. That for some reason exists to take them up the giant land structure leading up to the sandstorm that hides the ship. ]
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No more apocalypse. No more Knives.
In the rising cart, Vash is sitting a little closer to Wolfwood than their first rodeo on the zip line. They aren't locking arms or holding hands or anything... He just... Wants to be close, though discreet about it. ]
Haven't been to the colony since the last time we visited. [ Which sounds awful, so he raises his hand and gestures with a pointed finger. ] But I saw a lot of them when we were preparing to face off Knives at Octovern!
[ He says that like it'd make him a good son when it has been some months since the end of the dark ages. Incorrigible, he's a bad son. ]
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Funny how things turn out, with him now casually tipping over to lean closer to Vash's personal space. Just a little bit. ]
I remember that girl complainin' that you don't visit often enough. Thought she was gonna start announcin' that she was gonna marry you when she's all grown up over the breakfast table.
[ Which, like, suggests Vash is gone for years at a time, so. Not having gone back for a year or a little over is nothing, and understandable besides when the literal goddamn apocalypse was happening. ]
So, she'll be happy to see you I bet.
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Despite the plunging darkness, he's grateful to have learned a lesson and understand the worldview unlike his own—it let him love more. Grateful despite the guilt that weighs on his shoulders as they approach the ship. He has more blood on his hands than the last he's seen his family and the time spent on the cart is spent quietly repenting for it. It's spent asking for forgiveness in silence. What is this place if not a confessional? There's even a priest beside him.
But... Seeing the other man from the corner of his eye, how he leans closer to, it lessens the weight of the cross he tried to bear. Vash feels his spirits lift and shifts closer so that Wolfwood could lean and rest against him, if he wanted to. With Wolfwood, he feels he belongs more than anywhere else. It's selfish, he knows. ]
Don't remind me... [ There's a weary sigh as he rubs his neck. ] She might actually start talking about wedding plans this time.
[ It isn't that annoying or inconvenient for him. Just another thing to dodge, but he turns to face Wolfwood now. ]
Feeling all right?
[ Since the orphanage is temporarily staying here until they rebuild. ]
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SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS
Well, a couple of bottles. It's beer, mostly, maybe two of whiskey, then this fancy looking wine bottle. In his other hand is
a large wedge of cheese and just a fucking log of salami. Hello, Wolfwood. ]
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Also he's a dick and he will be totally amused at Brad getting ultra-smashed. WEAK BOY. He'll retire first sure, shuffling away back to their lodgings. A pace once, twice around the room, stand and stare at the wall. He's pretty used to managing on his own but he never really got the hang of it sometimes. When Vash returns, he just glances back with a raised brow at his haul. ]
The hell's that for? You gonna eat that like a cake?
[ Just imagines Vash taking a huge bite out of the cheese and salami log. ]
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Vash's nose scrunches at that question... Eat cheese like a cake? honestly i would and i think if Vash was starving he'd also just eat a whole cheese wedge ]
No? We're supposed to slice some small pieces! [ Says Vash who brought whole salami log and cheese wedge. Don't worry. They have knives somewhere. ] They're supposed to complement the wine.
[ There's a pause as he considers something while looking at Wolfwood. ]
You're not spent, right?
[ HE BROUGHT SO MUCH ALCOHOL. ]
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Really? Supposed to?
[ What are they, fancy people doing a charcuterie. Wolfwood isn't cultured. Admittedly he does glance back at all the alcohol Vash brought with him, impressed by how he really managed to carry all of this back without dropping any. He assumes Vash didn't drop any. ]
You're suggesting some extra drinking?
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NAT 1 FUMBLE
Whether Wolfwood has taken steps to rekindle what relationships he had with the orphanage, Vash so far hasn't pried. He's watched him very carefully from the corner of his eye as he's juggling his own very large family affairs. There have been new names to remember, birthdays and graduations to attend, and Joseph finally having the aesthetic down for his wedding. Sometimes Vash drops encouragement to approach, a little push, and maybe that has helped. Maybe it hasn't.
Despite the nudges, he gives Wolfwood the space he needs.
That's all shut out when they're in Vash's capsule room, back to enclosed spaces too small for both of them. I'm going to assign Vash showering second, so he comes out of the bathroom while ruffling his damp black hair with a towel. Is Wolfwood still in the room? If he is, Vash is going to admire him with the usual unnerving stare. I don't know how long since their reunion, but it still takes getting used to seeing him, to hearing his voice so clearly... He had missed him so much—even though Wolfwood's here, he finds himself missing him in his dreams, too. ]
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Wolfwood's been slowly warming up to it though, at least here. He's still of the mind that at times, it feels a little too peaceful, to the point where it feels a little wrong and that sets him a bit on edge, but gradually he's learning to indulge and relax the stiffness in his shoulders a little.
The kids are fine, for the most part. They're still curious about him, and some have outright told him that he looks just like their big brother -- something that still gives him grief despite the thin smile and nonchalant 'Yeah?' he puts out. Melanie always gives him that look of concern and he always ignores it, albeit a little shamefully now. It's fine, he'd rather be a different person, let them keep their image of little Nico separate from what Wolfwood's become. He bribes them in lollipops to share with their siblings and go play, and watching them be happy with the Colony, moving on from the terror of the Orphanage attack is his version of quiet and peace.
At the end of the day, they retire, how every day ends. Some days Wolfwood goes out for a spot of fresh air or a smoke before returning, but by the end of the night, he's there. Tonight he's hogging the bed while Vash showers, an unlit cigarette between his teeth because of his bad oral fixation habit. One hand tucked behind his head, the other mentally counting beads on a rosary. He doesn't react when Vash emerges but after a stretch of silence and being stared at, he opens an eye and looks at him. ]
Can I help you?
[ You're hogging the whole bed stupid. ]
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There's nooo spaceee for himmm so he's hovering over and whines pathetically. ]
Nicholaaaas, you're hogging the beeeed.
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ICONIC SUPER INFLUENTIAL ACROSS THE UNIVERSE
Unfortunately, it's Vash's turn to drive Angelina while Wolfwood takes a nap in the sidecar... Wolfwood has gotten to nap for a decent amount of time! More than normal, actually! Please appreciate his marginal progress.
But like clockwork, they crash. ]
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Wolfwood is ready to go out whenever Vash is. Similarly he suffers from the itch to move around, never stay in one place overlong. It's the mild paranoia instilled in him from his assassin-mercenary days, the world being out to get him and more, the need to avoid it all and stay alive. But in a more plain sense, he just likes traveling.
Wolfwood still drives a majority of the time, presumably. He's pretty used to it after all, and when he's being a bitch, he can't trust Vash to not careen him off into a dune again. It has been better though. He doesn't even have terrible nightmares when he dozes off, at least not so bad as before. Certain demons are still a bit hard to shake off, but it's so much easier when they're not hounding at his door and he can take his life much more easily.
Unfortunately, of course they do. He's jolted from some pleasant buzz of nothing, not a concrete dream but far preferable to red flashes of blood. Far preferable to the faceful of yellow sand and rocks he's suddenly eating. Like clockwork, he shoves himself out of it and starts yelling. ]
Why! The hell! Do I trust you to drive ever!
[ Frankly at this point, it's his own fault. ]
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Anyway, Vash does end up moving not to Wolfwood's voice, but the fact that the sand he's stuck in starts shifting. Unfortunately, he doesn't have enough strength to pull himself out? It's badlands rumble and he's getting swallowed by something similar to quicksand. ]
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TRICK OR TREAT? WRONG. IT'S TRICK
It's a time of the year when it's... ostensibly... a bit cooler... maybe. Who knows what the NML calendar looks like but until otherwise proven wrong, it's close-enough to Earth, but with two suns. October exists because if France can, why can't the spooky month.
Now Wolfwood has never been one to be a celebrator of holidays, especially not those more frivolous. They didn't have money, okay. But being with the ship and all the other kids and all, folks who are considerably more familiar with old Earth customs than planet natives like him and the orphanage... well, sometimes they hear about things from the old world. And one of those things is a silly little activity called Halloween. Come on, they mentioned candy. What kid isn't a sucker for a small sugary treat.
So they've been preparing something, a little in-house version of it. Wolfwood is standing here as adults and kids shuffle around alike, pasting cutouts of jack-o-lanterns on the walls. ]
Who comes up with this stuff?
[ Why pumpkins? Then again, says he, sharing a name with a Saint rumoured to come down the chimneys so you know. ]
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There are a bunch of little monsters running amok, enjoying their make-believe scenarios and having forgotten about the treats to come later in the night. ]
People?
[ This is the dumbest response he can muster, but he's also distracted with the children telling him he also has to dress up! He has to join their little vampire coven! ]
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Well no shit. You know what I mean.
[ Watching the kids try to stick a horned headband on him. ]
I'm just sayin', it's weird as hell on paper. At least the kids are havin' fun.
Tired of being their dress-up doll yet?
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