wings of feathers, tails and fin tips

[amo]

Who: Vash & YOU?
What: January (+ backdated December) catch-all, includes an open aurora: nascent prompt.
When: All throughout this (and the previous) month.
Where: The Church, Milton's surroundings.
Content Warnings: Will be added as necessary here if not mentioned in the thread itself.



prompts & starters ↯

( plotting | permissions & sing-specific info | gusts )

feel free to hit me up on the plotting post or plurk if you want a personalized starter!
i'm down for any wildcard prompts too & always happy to match format.

Comments

— CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE FEATHERY KIND ( open )

[amo]

[ The Aurora comes and doesn't go, much to Vash's dismay. Where he and his fellow plants are usually inconvenienced for a few hours or a night at most, the lights persist their colourful dance in the sky and bring along even more change than usual. Staying inside of the church's living quarters, out of the general public's immediate view, becomes a lot harder when there's no end to the Aurora in sight. They've rationed enough food that they could survive staying holed up for a few days in case of another snowstorm, but Vash would rather save that for an actual emergency. Sprouting their usual feathers and wings (or starting to glow in the other Vash's case) doesn't really count as such when it's a regular occurrence.

Finding out he can now share his thoughts and that he keeps doing so accidentally is another reason for him to go out. There's too much he doesn't want his brothers to know and he needs the distraction until he can get a handle on this newfound power. So, although he's reluctant to do so, Vash dons the clothes he's modified to fit him when he's looking particularly feathery, and goes about his day as though it's a normal one — save for how he avoids the town and sticks largely to Milton's surroundings.

He has to walk with his upper body tilted forward to keep the wings from dragging through the snow and getting soaked and only succeeds half the time, turning his gait strange. Still, he goes out into the forest, checking his brother's traps for any rabbits, foraging for berries and anything edible or useful, gathering wood, pretending that distance matters when it comes to unintentionally beaming his thoughts into someone else's head. All the while trying his hardest to be quick and sneaky about it, desperate not to startle anyone with his unusual appearance.

Maybe you spot him puttering around in the forest, sneaking along the edges of town, see some strange tracks you decide to follow, or catch a stray thought along the lines of 'I hope no one sees me' being projected into your head. Quite possibly he might also be making a fool of himself trying to hastily hide from your view or tripping over his own wings and face-planting into the snow. Anything (clumsy) is possible with Vash the Stampede. ]

[lastdecember]

[ He's so warm.

It's not as toasty as sitting in front of a roaring fire, sure, not anywhere near the energy-sapping heat of high noon in the middle of the badlands, but yesterday Wolfwood woke up and for the first time since he arrived, his fingertips and toes didn't ache. His joints aren't sore from the cold, his nose doesn't burn when he breathes. He's warm.

And what fantastic timing, because the aurora's hit and the sun's vanished, leaving the town colder... and louder. There's an electronic whine coming from many of the buildings as the home goods come back to life. Lights are on in a few of the houses and businesses, he can hear a hum as something he doesn't recognize as a compressor kicks on in a nearby home's fridge, a radio hisses, looking for a station that doesn't seem to exist... it's fascinating.

He's got the idea to find a two-way radio and see if there's anyone out there listening in when he spots a flash of feathers up ahead, and all thoughts of radios and refrigerators fly right out of his head. ]

Spikey?

[amo]

[ To his great excitement, Vash has found a low brush of cranberries and all his attention is honed in on his find. Everything else is forgotten for a moment as his thoughts turn towards all the potential recipes he could use the berries for — sauce and jam for sure, cranberry-glazed rabbit could be delicious, they could be good for tea too, and he's yet to try incorporating them with fish so maybe there's an idea there as well. He's ducking under a low-hanging branch to reach his sweet treasure, gleefully humming to himself as he picks the cranberries, when there's the sound of an all too familiar voice calling out. Rather than want to run and hide, his heart leaps with joy as it seems to do every time he's graced with his friend's presence again. He doesn't have to hide his uncanny appearance when it's... ]

« Wolfwood! »

[ It's not a vocal call, but an unintentionally telepathic one. The joy in it is unmistakable and so is the slight inhuman quality to it in the form of a very faint humming reverberation — like the kind one might hear when standing too close to a plant's bulb, almost staticky in nature. Vash is straightening immediately and, with all the grace the Humanoid Typhoon is known for, knocking his noggin against the branch above him. To make that bit of embarrassment even worse, it sends snow cascading down from the branches and Vash is left staggering back, clutching his head, and spluttering a little.

He only barely manages not to proceed tripping over one of his wings, recovering smoothly with a: ]

Oww... hi!

[ Nailed it. ]

[lastdecember]

[ Vash calls his name, and his voice is as unhuman as the rest of him -- or maybe Wolfwood's just hearing things. Maybe that's just distortion from one of the houses nearby, a radio's static echoing off a nearby tree, or something. It doesn't matter. Vash's smile is all that matters right now, that idiot grin all the proof Wolfwood needs that even though his wings are out on display, this isn't bad. He'd warned Wolfwood about this, hadn't he? About turning into feathery monsters during the Aurora. This is normal, for Milton. This has happened before. This is okay.

It's better than okay, Wolfwood thinks, trying hard not to stare. His wings, when they aren't a sign of fear or pain, are incredible. He's struck with the sudden desire to see what they feel like, if they're strong as steel or as soft as they appear, and he quickly stuffs his hands into his jack pockets before he can give in to that terrible idea. ]

You useless idiot.

[ Even a stranger could probably hear the affection beneath the insult as Wolfwood approaches, keeping just far enough back so that if Vash turns, he won't get smacked with the great flurry of feathers sticking out every which way. ]

What the hell are you doing in there? A couple little feathers and you forget how to walk?

[amo]

[ As eager as he always is to see Wolfwood — so vibrant in how alive he is — and as much as Vash knows he doesn't have to hide himself from his friend like this, there's still some relief to be found when there isn't any fear to be noticed in how he's greeted with a fond insult and a casual approach. Wolfwood has, rightfully, been terrified of him before. To be fair, there isn't anything to fear anymore now that he's been drained of his powers, rendered useless as he is when it comes to tapping into his gate, but he knows his inhuman appearance can still be unsettling to witness.

The teasing gets an instant pout even if the smile lingers in the brightness of his eyes. ]

You try walking around with these things when you can't control them at all!

[ It's a pain in the ass. As if to prove that point, one of the longer feathers curls forward like it might be trying to reach for Wolfwood's arm, much to Vash's dismay. He's used to his feathers reacting around his brothers, figuring it's a plant thing, some innate desire to connect with kin, but perhaps this part of him remembers that the first time he'd used his feathers for good was to protect Wolfwood, to cradle his unconscious body close and keep him safe. His hand leaves his head to bat the offending feather down before it can get very far at all with embarrassed annoyance. ]

« Stop that! »

[ To redirect the attention from his unruly extra appendages, he holds out his right arm and unfurls his clenched fingers to reveal the handful of cranberries he's holding, answering the first question. ]

I was foraging. Look, these are cranberries. They're a bit tart like this, but they make a great jam if you add sugar.

[ He motions with his hand, inviting Wolfwood to both look and take one to try if he so desires. Keen to move past his blunder, he throws the question right back at his friend. ]

What are you up to out here?

[moralabsolutism]

[Rorschach had seen the strange tracks on the edge of town. He still could barely tell one animal from another but these ones were most curious. They seemed human and yet....not. It made him curious. Was there some new being in town? Or was this another creature that had suddenly appeared to help or harm them?

There was only one way to find out. He followed the tracks, his deerskin boots keeping his pace soft and quiet. These tracks weren't as hard to follow as some of the others had been. He wondered if he was getting close when he looked up and-- Jesus Christ! What was that?!

Rorschach stood there in complete stunned silence, not quite sure if what he was looking at was a person or a monster. He'd seen some weird shit since he'd come to town but this was still pretty fucking high on the weird scale. He wondered if he should get closer. Not that it mattered much. The minute Vash looked in his direction he'd spot the vigilante.]

[amo]

[ Vash is cautiously (or so he thinks) traipsing along, leaving one of his brother's sadly empty traps behind and making his way over to check the next when somewhere during his path, there's the distinct impression he's not alone anymore. He's not sure what it is, maybe a faint crunching in the snow somewhere he's picked up subconsciously or a sudden unsettling feeling of being watched. Whatever the case, he's already subtly tensing, prepared to bolt even as his hand surreptitiously lowers to where his gun is strapped to his thigh and hidden under his coat. Just in case. But much more tempting is the urge to run, first instinct as it's become being a wanted man on the run and all that. Old habits die hard even in a place where his identity no longer matters. At least right now he has a good excuse to go run and hide.

Trying to find the source, he glances around and when he turns his head, he finds it pretty much instantly. Instead of running like he's poised to do, he finds himself freezing in place. It's already too late anyway, he's obviously been seen, but more than that, he's trying to make sense of what his gaze has landed on. A guy in a mask? A mask that— moves?

There's no gun or weapon being pointed at him and so no urgent risk to push him towards fleeing. For a moment Vash is just staring back like a deer in headlights before eventually he... awkwardly raises a hand and gives a small uncertain wave. ]

Um... hello? I mean no harm?

[moralabsolutism]

Hope not.

[He murmured quietly in the usual truncated way he had of speaking. Because that was one freaky humanoid right in front of him. Rorschach hadn't seen anyone around him in town just yet who was so blatantly something other than human and it was a bit disconcerting for him to have this be the first encounter. He didn't move forward but neither did he retreat. The only thing that kept moving was the black blots across the white surface of his face.]

What are you?

[Even he knew enough about manners to know such a question was terribly rude but he couldn't help himself. Vash was beautiful and a little terrifying to behold. Rorschach had no idea what he was but he found himself fixated and unable to stop staring.]

[cantor]

[Renny makes a point to try and take a new path each day - sometimes towards the edges, sometimes towards the forest. He especially likes the latter because, if he's lucky, he'll run into some local wildlife.

He normally doesn't take walks at night, but the Aurora cuts through enough darkness to make it safe. Out he goes, a three-foot bundle of brightly-colored clothes, when he spots something different in the woods - something large, white, and feathery darting behind cover (is it really cover if it doesn't hide you?) Immediately, Renny stops.

It isn't an animal. Monster? No. The feathers remind him of Dame Aylin's...

He calls out, curious.]

Hello? Hellooo? I can see you. [Wait that could be taken as a threat.] You okay?

[amo]

[ As much grief as the Aurora brings him by drawing out his true nature for all to see whenever it appears, there's something almost peaceful about walking under the bright ribbons of light during the night. It makes everything seem so much more vivid, the very air itself crisper. Maybe it's just because of whatever pull it has on his kind or because it literally lights up the sky and town alike with the surge of electricity, but Vash tries to take what little enjoyment from it that he can as he goes about his cautious business to keep himself and his brothers fed.

At least until there's the sound of footsteps in the snow and a flash of bright clothing. Vash barely even catches a glimpse before he's already scurrying behind the cover of some bushes. Or attempts to anyway. He has no control over his wings and they refuse to tuck in tight to his body to make the cover more effective. He still has some faint hope he might have darted out of view in time when—

Nope. No such luck.

All his vain hopes are dashed when the greetings are followed by the plain statement he's plenty visible. It still makes him jolt, wings only puffing out further with the little shock of motion, and an arm appears to forcefully yank the biggest wing down even though it's already too late. Whoever it is doesn't sound scared or even all that alarmed; the question is kind, even. That's good at least. There have been people before who thankfully didn't bat an eye at his appearance in this state, but he'd still rather not take any risks and make anyone feel uncomfortable or threatened in any way.

So he stays put right where he is, letting out a sheepish laugh and a cheery: ]

Yes, I'm fine! Don't mind me!

[cantor]

[Wings, white and massive, strange enough to dizzy the eye. The bards' tales spoke of aasimar as elegant, god-touched beings who exuded with radiance, blessed by their heritage. Dame Aylin had proven those stories true, with her noble bearing and speech. This one -

- this one seems a bit too mortal? Even his speech rings of the Common tongue, without any dramatic or archaic embellishments.

Renny's brow furrows and he shuffles towards the stranger's hiding spot. He's not concerned about being attacked. From his experiences, aasimar only lashed out at those with ill intentions, and he's certain he's proved himself to be friendly.]

Come out and be friendly, then. [On second thought, maybe he shouldn't be so familiar towards what could be a divine being?] If it pleases you, I mean.

[And immediately, his curiosity overrides his brief moment of cautious politeness.]

There's no reason we can't chat face-to-face like civilized folk.

[solitarysoul]

[Levi is out hunting--well, checking traps he only sort of knows how to use--when he comes across Vash's strange tracks. They look human, more or less, but like whoever was walking was having trouble or dragging something. The dream from earlier in the month, and the strangely lasting darkness, has him on edge so he's got his rifle in his hands by the time he comes across the other.

Just like before he aims the gun at Vash, but this time he puts it down quickly. It was that guy, right? It probably made sense that this constant aurora-night was causing him problems.]

Um. You need any help?

[amo]

[ There's the crunching of snow that alerts Vash to someone else's presence and when he looks up, the gun being pointed at him is the first thing he notices. It's such a familiar sight, he's instinctively tensing up and getting ready to attempt dodging even as he's starting to raise his arms in surrender. His hands never make it up into the air because in the next moment, he recognizes who's holding it and the rifle is already getting lowered again.

Vash's previously deer-in-headlights expression brightens instantly with a smile at seeing a familiar face. ]

Oh hey, Levi!

[ The greeting leaves his mouth first before it's followed up with a slightly awkward chuckle at the question. He knows he probably looks like a cumbersome mess of feathers, the edges of the larger wings soaked where they get dragged through the snow every now and then despite his best efforts, but it can't be helped. ]

I'm alright, I was just out gathering firewood. Can't really stay inside with the Aurora lasting so long.

[ Wry and a little put-upon, he's quick to redirect the attention and nod at Levi's rifle, taking a guess. ]

Any luck hunting?

[solitarysoul]

You look a little, uh, off balance. Do you want help carrying it?

[He shrugs]

None of my traps seemed to get anything...I'm not sure I'm doing it right. I should look for another book or something.

[bigbaddy]

[ Today is just an entire circus, apparently.

Because yes, Bigby sure did discover the tracks in the snow. He keeps close tabs on all the tracks around town at all times, so there's absolutely no way these odd ones wouldn't stand out to him. And considering how much of a man of action he is, he immediately decided to follow them, even though there's a chance - like so often in Milton - that this is something dangerous.

So the man prepares himself for something potentially dangerous. He's fully ready for a fight when he follows the tracks out of town, into the start of the woods, and...

.. at the end of said tracks is Vash. Or rather-- a Vash who's making a valiant effort to try and move to hide behind a tree the moment he heard Bigby approaching, only to trip and fall onto his face in the snow in the process.

Talk about an anticlimax when you came ready for a fight.

Maybe it's why there's something a little deadpan in Bigby's voice when he speaks up with: ]

What are you even doing?

[ To be fair, his first remark actually isn't about those huge wings Vash is dragging along with him. M-Maybe that's.. a win..? ]

[amo]

[ The sound of approaching footsteps from behind him has Vash's attention diverting from going about his business to scrambling for cover before he can be seen. At least that had been the plan. In his haste to get behind the nearest tree — not even bothering to look over his shoulder to see who's coming his way — he's not exactly mindful of where he's stepping and so he completely misses the root that's only barely sticking out above the snow. His foot catches on it and in his already rushed forward momentum, it's all that's needed to send him toppling over face-first into the snow in an ungraceful tumble of flailing limbs and rustling feathers.

Maybe the pathetic display is enough for whoever it is to take pity instead of being afraid and—

Oh, that's a familiar voice. The sound of which both sparks the joy of recognition and the immediate dread of someone who knows him seeing him in his changed state. His stomach is kept from dropping entirely by the fact that Bigby's deadpan first question isn't about his appearance, giving a tiny spark of hope as Vash lifts his head and peers over cautiously. ]

Uh, snow inspection...?

[ Quite possibly one of the worst excuses he's ever come up with, but he's rolling with it. Anything to distract from the feathery mess and delay the other inevitable question. ]

It's nice and fluffy. Will cushion your fall nicely. I give it a ten out of ten.

[bigbaddy]

[ Yup.

That sure is Vash, Bigby thinks. Looking pretty different today, but absolutely Vash in every single way - from the way he tripped and fell over into the snow to the way he answers with this, of all things, under the current circumstances. It's as if the other never truly changes, no matter what ridiculous things happen in this place.

It makes him wonder whether those wings truly are part of the other, or just something this place forced upon him. It wouldn't be the strangest effect of the Aurora Bigby has seen so far, after all. And he's pretty sure Vash would react in this exact way, regardless of which of those two options is the truth. ]

Is it the wings? [ Yes. Bigby is very much casually addressing those, thank you very much. It's not like this man has ever been indirect in his life, and he sure isn't about to start now.

Though his tone is indeed casual. Like he isn't bothered by the sight at all. ]

I mean, if they're making you fall, you just need to shift your weight a little. Don't lean too much to the front, or you'll collapse under the weight. [ Take it from someone who had to get used to walking on two legs for so long, Vash. He's got so much experience, even if it's not with wings specifically. ]

— ALL THIS TIME I'VE BEEN LYING, OH, LYING IN SECRET TO MYSELF ( closed to v )

[amo]

cw ❚❚❚❚❚ blood, child death, limb loss, mention of head shot-related gore, emeto

[ His thoughts still keep escaping the confines of his own mind, but it's starting to get easier for Vash to keep a lid on them. At least when he's awake, that is. It's a different matter when he's fast asleep and neither conscious nor in control of where his mind might take him. If he had any such handle on his dreaming, he would not be having the nightmares that he does and would not be awoken as often by night terrors about a past from another world as he is.

Tonight he dreams of red.

Normally his favorite color. The color of a beloved flower — red for love, affection, determination, a blank ticket to the future — of an even more beloved person. It's a color he wears with pride in remembrance. A color he's made his own, the typhoon's. But it can also be a terrible color and tonight red is the thread that connects and weaves various memories together, each as awful as the last, all having that one color in common.

He dreams of blood.

It's there in the felling of an entire town, crimson seeping through clean slices in the walls, trickling down to stain stone and sand alike. There were children in those buildings. It's all because of you, Vash. To save you. There is only more gleaming copper red in the aftermath, a gunshot to the shoulder, an arm sliced right off; the iron scent overwhelming and inescapable when he's trapped, chained to a pole, left behind to bleed out and die in the hot sands of the desert. Part of him feels like he deserves it, although he can't say why. Not that it matters, a friend comes to save him. Vash is older now and the friend smells of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol, he's fire incarnate — burning bright, so bright, a light for those around him and he doesn't even know it, he means so much to so many little hearts, until the red gets to him too and douses his flames. His clothes are drenched in it, wet red heat that clings to Vash's hand on his friend's back. It tells Vash enough. You lose him just like you'll lose your brother. You can never hold on to anyone you ever loved.

Red is blood, loss, and apples.

It is also sin. There when he tries to save the memory of his friend, finger on the trigger — the day will come when you'll have to choose. He makes his choice and the result is blue hair matted with crimson red and the pink hues of brain matter; his oldest vow broken. The gunshot is still ringing in Vash's ears when he starts awake with a choked gasp. Usually he might stay put, catch his breath, possibly find or be given comfort by the warm body lying next to his. Not this time. He can't stay where he is.

Vash silently slips out of the bed and hurries on tiptoes past Vee's to make a run for the bathroom. He manages to make it just in time before he upends the contents of his stomach, thinking with a pang of disappointment what a waste it is after all the collective hard work it takes to make a meal. He ignores the stinging of unshed tears in his eyes and the frantic pounding of his heart trying to make its valiant escape through the cage of his ribs, waiting for the roiling in his stomach to settle before he pushes himself back against the cool tiles and finally attempts to control his breathing. He's managed not to think of Legato during his waking hours for quite a while now, but he haunts him in his dreams instead — as tenacious in death as he was in life. So very selfishly, Vash wishes he wouldn't. ]

100000 years later ...

[skelters]

[ the overwhelming cold means that they are more or less pushed to staying close together - especially at night, when what little sun they get (if there is any) disappears over the tree tops and the temperature falls to well below freezing. even after a few months, it still takes vee some getting used to this closeness; limbs entangled together, feeling others' breaths and hearts beating much too close to his own. vee sometimes finds himself waking up in the middle of the night with a start as if waking from a bad dream - and tonight is no exception ... or at least, that's what vee thinks at first, feeling the tingle of blood returning to his fingers from how tightly he'd been clenching his hands.

maybe it's because it's too cold, his sluggish brain supplies the answers - but that doesn't explain the unfamiliar ache in his gut that's different from hunger, different from a now familiar ache of acid eating away at the lining having nowhere else to go. it doesn't explain the way his lashes are matted with tears, how his mouth fumbles around the words half-spoken, half-told in a dream. you will lose him. you will lose your brother. you can't save anyone.

for a moment he fights for breath - struggling to not make a sound lest he wake the others, vash next to him and knives just beyond that - and vee gingerly raises his hand to press the heel of his palm against the wet socket of his eye. starbursting black and red explode with the pressure and vee shivers again, choking out an inadvertent sob at the unfamiliar (familiar) rush of guilt and sorrow. so much. there is so much.

he is sorry. he is sorry. he's never meant for any of this to happen. he should have realised it sooner, seen nai's silence for what it was - not an acceptance but something else. he still sees the burning ships all across the skies. his brother's figure outlined in flames and smoke. he sees rem outlined in flame and smoke, too, her dark hair catching alight and bursting in cloud of red petals crumbling to nothing in the fire. he is sorry, he is sorry, he is sorry.

vee attempts to shift on his back, turning his face away so that the others, should they happen to wake up, won't see the streaks of tears running down from his blinking eyes. it takes him another few, shallow breaths to realise that the cold also comes from the empty gap beside him in the middle where vash should have been. ]

... Vash?

[ as the other rolls back against the cold tiles, a quiet voice will call out from the doorway - before vee slides halfway into view, leaning against the frame and not quite meeting vash's eyes, straying to the shadows so he does not see the way vee's eyes are dark-lined and reddened. ] Are you alright?

[amo]

[ He barely has the time to even begin wrangling his wayward breathing under control when a soft voice by the doorway startles him out of his scattered sorrow-laden thoughts. Nerves strung out and frayed, Vash's first reaction is to hide; to pull up his knees and bury his face against them where he can conceal his shining eyes and the undoubtedly wretched expression that he doesn't have the time or energy to transform into a smile. It's childish and there's little use to it given who's standing in the doorway — he should have locked it, really — yet he can't help it any more than he can help the urge to pretend. He wants to say he's fine, apologize for potentially waking Vee up, and usher him back to bed, but Vash fears that if he opens his mouth again, only bile will come out or worse: words he'll come to regret.

What does it say when the person he wants to hide the most from is essentially himself? ]

Mmhm.

[ An affirmative hum is all he can muster, fully ignoring the pungent scent of his sick in the air and how his physical response are both telling enough that he's anything but alright. The sound is accompanied by the raising of his single arm and a dismissive wave of his hand as if to silently shoo Vee back to bed before it's dropped to wrap around his legs in that desperate self-soothing way of his. He doesn't dare to speak, to think, to barely even breathe. This is not something he wants to burden Vee with. They all have nightmares, in a sense this is their form of normal. (Never mind he's never had to make a run to the bathroom before.) He's hoping that "normalcy" is convincing enough where he fails to be. It's just another nightmare, it's fine, he'll be fine in a few minutes.

But he knows better than that because he knows himself better than that.

Still, he can hope, count the staccato beats of his heart to fill his head with numbers instead of treacherous thoughts, heedless of the way the guilt and grief still pour out of him even without being put to words. He's sorry — always so helplessly sorry. ]

[skelters]

[ the way vash reels back - his head bending like a flower hit with some sudden frost, folding himself inwards as though by occupying as small a space as possible is enough to similarly compact his feelings into something manageable (something to be ignored) - is familiar, like looking into a mirror. it almost makes vee wish he had just pretended at playing ignorance - to curl his body into the gap left by the other in their shared bed and chase the futile possibility of sleep, and he cringes internally, fingers curling uncertainly into the hem of his shirt, fidgeting with the loose threads at the edge. is it too late to just go back?

it is. and it's a bit too late, for his heart to not reach out to the other. ]

...

[ well, the question (and the following answer) isn't really appropriate at this moment, is it? what else can he do? what kind of comfort can he possibly offer vash, when he can't even listen past the accusations in his own head?

there is a beat of silence. a moment where he hesitates, poised between leaving and staying - before the floorboards creak silently with the shifting of his weight and vee is taking a cautious, careful step back out - the sounds fading back into the darkness outside. but only for a few minutes. he's only gone to get a glass, only chipped slightly around the edges and already worn smooth with wear - and it isn't long before he's groping his way back from the kitchen to where the other is, crouching down near the other to offer him the filled glass.

tactfully, though perhaps more out of some sense of self-preservation (for both of them), vee stays slightly behind the other's shoulder instead of facing him outright. ]

Drink this. Please?

— HOME IS WHERE LOVE IS ( closed to knives ) ▪ backdated to december

[amo]

[ When the boar had said it could grant almost any wish, it's not that Vash had doubted its words, per se. Plenty of strange impossible things have been happening here after all. It's just that the one ask he could come up with seemed like it might be too much, too specific. He couldn't think of anything to ask for himself — requesting booze from a clearly ancient being seemed sacrilegious somehow — and so, recalling the way he's often found Knives forlornly staring off into space and learning it's because he missed their sisters when he finally mustered the courage to ask, he decided to request something heartening he could pass along to his brother instead. He hadn't actually expected the giant boar to agree and just... spit it out.

But there it is, in Vash's hand, thankfully free of saliva. It's one of his sister's feathers, holding a positive memory. Vash can feel it brimming with warm feelings even through his gloves. He doesn't dare try to see what memory it might hold for fear it will disappear again if he does, but it doesn't matter anyway. It's exactly what he asked for. If he wasn't seized with jubilant excitement, he might have cried. Instead he very carefully puts the feather in his pocket and shouts some extra words of profuse gratitude into the forest after the disappeared form before he's turning and promptly rushing off to the Basin. He knows Knives is usually out fishing around this time.

And he's glad to find he's not wrong, his eagerness only increasing when he spots the familiar figure by the lake. He has to slow his approach, tamp down on his excitement, and quiet his voice so he doesn't startle any fish away and get scolded. ]

Hey, Knives.

[ The words still come out in a rush when he stops by his twin's side, the excitement plenty obvious in a wide smile, gleaming eyes, and the way he can't help rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes with restless energy. ]

[brutalact]

[while vash may not scare any fish away as he walks over towards knives, his excitement does have him lowering the fishing rod to regard vash with a curious tilt to his head. there were only an infinite amount of things that could have vash looking so energized and if it were anyone else, knives would be instantly suspicious.]

Vash.

[setting the rod down beside him, knives stands to stretch, rolling a shoulder with a twinge to his brow.]

You look happy. What happened?

[despite his words, he sounds prepared for some terrible news. his nose wrinkles as he looks at vash before stepping closer, hand raising to brush away the flecks of snow gathering in his brother's dark hair.] You need to start wearing a hat outside.

[amo]

[ It only adds to his eagerness when Knives actually sets the rod down and gives him his full undivided attention; it saves Vash the trouble of having to vie for it. Not even the skepticism in his brother's tone and expression or the nagging that follows do anything to dampen his anticipation. Vash actually leans into the touch to let Knives get his fussing in and over with while he rolls his eyes at the statement. ]

I have my hood when I need it.

[ The fur lining of his coat's hood does the job well enough whenever he needs his head covered. A hat would just ruin his hairstyle way more whenever he's bothered to spike it up. (Which, to be fair, isn't all that often anymore.) But that isn't important right now.

All at once, Vash goes still and intent. Yet for all that, the gleeful excitement is still palpable, he's downright vibrating with it even as he smooths his voice and expression out into something conspiratorial. ]

I got you a gift.

[ A suspicious statement when he stands before his brother seemingly empty-handed. To stretch out the suspense and add a little more surprise to it since it's not wrapped or anything, he adds a command of: ]

C'mon, eyes closed, hands out.

[brutalact]

[he clicks his tongue, then wear it, going unspoken but very much heard through the look he points at vash as light flurries dust darkened hair. what was the point of a hood if he didn't actually use it? what nonsense.

of course, the source of vash's excitement reveals itself and of course knives is suspicious. eyes narrowed and brow raised, he doesn't look quite convinced yet.]

If this is a joke of some sort I'll toss you in the lake, Vash.

[an empty threat... maybe. still, he hesitates before deciding to comply, posture tense while facing the unknown of whatever it is vash wants to gift him. his hands held out and eyes closed, brows twitching with the effort not to open them prematurely.]

Vash...