it's cold and it's sort of merciless | closed

[brutalact]

Who: Knives & Vash & Vash(u)
What: Catchall log
When: Throughout the month of October up to November 5th.
Where: The Church mostly.

Content Warnings: Mentions of suicide ideation and past misanthropy most likely. Will update with warnings as they come up.



[if there was one positive thing knives could say about the church, it'd be the distance between it and the rest of the town. there were few interlopers who ventured out this far and most of the ones who did were either headed out of town or wandered the graveyard that sat behind the church itself. knives hadn't felt much of a need to interact with many of them unless stricken by curiosity-fed boredom, still learning how to carry himself around those whom he once upon a time would have cut down without a second thought.

times have changed and so has he. unfortunate or fortunate, it didn't matter now.

at least there is plenty to do to keep knives occupied; the few books he found on fishing and hunting, while outdated, are useful enough that he's gone out to try his hand at both. it was interesting learning about skills he would have never considered before back on no man's land, the frozen basin itself a marvel when he first came upon it.

inside the church the living quarters were small, especially with three people - plants - all taking up space together. what could go wrong?

Comments

[amo]

[ The window and its half-opened state registers a moment later, realization dawning promptly, and by then Knives is already moving past him before Vash can react. It's a jumble of motion as Knives pulls the other him away from the window who then... proceeds to drop to the floor and curl up tight. It makes for a rather pitiful sight and Vash sympathizes. From where he stands, there are no feathers on the other that he can see, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He's had times where the wings and feathers he sprouted were minimal and easily hidden beneath clothing. What is a good sign is that there isn't the crackling of immense energy in the air, building up like a storm. That bodes well at least.

To make sure it stays that way, Vash is quick to intervene and catch up to Knives after dropping the clothes tucked under his arm, taking hold of his elbow and pulling him back and away a little. Whatever history might be between this Vash and his Knives — by now he's certain it must be different in some significant way — he's taking the precaution of keeping the factor that set himself off the most at bay, just to be sure. Knives' heavy-handed approach is not the best here either way. He'd shoo his brother off entirely to go dry himself, but if things do go awry, he might be needed so he only works to get Knives behind him before dropping down into a crouch.

As tempted as he is to reach out and put a reassuring hand on his double's back, he refrains, mindful to treat him like the nuclear bomb he has the potential to be. That's the intention anyway. His newly gained appendages didn't get the memo and there isn't any stopping the way his wings reach forward. Swatting at the biggest wing does nothing to deter it from its path of curling over and around the sad lump on the floor.

Whatever. Hopefully it helps rather than incites. There's a glow that keeps sparking in his other self's hand that worries him even though it doesn't feel like it's charging up. He ignores the pounding in his chest, keeping his voice calm and even. ]

Hey, it's alright. It's just us. You don't have to hide.

[skelters]

[ would motion sickness feel a little bit like this? his body moving separately to everything else around him, restlessness inside stillness. vash can feel the steady press of the floor under his cheek and forehead; motionless and static, even though he feels anything but with the nauseous feeling churning uncomfortably in his stomach. he can feel something warm and soft, almost barely any weight at all, brushing over the bend of his spine. he feels like he's about to be sick through the panic burning through his guts. vash tries to keep his breaths even, counting one, two - one, then two again. this is the floor. this is his hand. this is his body. this is vash's voice, calm and even and steady. this is still him. he is still himself.

the unsteady feeling is still there, except it doesn't get any worse - it sits somewhere under his sternum, like a lump against his heart, like a bullet lodged somewhere between his ribs. uncomfortable, but he will live. ]

Ahaha.... [ the laugh isn't quite a laugh, ringing hollow and shaky, but it is better than nothing. anything is better than this, as vash carefully, slowly raises his hand above his head and gives a (hopefully) reassuring wave, still keeping his whole body in a crouch as embarrassment begins to creep in the wake of the panic. ]

Sorry, sorry .... Just, [ a sharp exhale ] Wow.

[brutalact]

[out of the three, knives was the only one who could greet the alien sensations that coursed through their bodies without the fear and panic that saturated his brothers. he had long ago embraced their otherness, instinctually familiar and welcoming as he let the feelings wash over him like a loving embrace. it was this that tied them to their heritage, their sisters that came before them in generations cut short over and over. he could understand the hesitation to present before those that would do harm in the face of something different, but surrounded by family...

across every universe it seemed his brother would always be the odd one out.

knives releases the back of vash's coat, briefly meeting his brother's eyes with a tch clicking behind his teeth before moving to close the half-opened window with a heavy hand. the chill already turning his naked skin to goosepimple, his feathers fluttering as he shivers.]

This reaction is bordering on insulting. Do you really think that lowly of us?

[amo]

It's okay. You're okay.

[ He's quick to reassure, relieved at both the lack of anything disastrous happening and the window being shut; his own bare upper half thankful for the closing of it. Vash cares little for his brother's disapproval in this situation. Knives would never understand, he simply couldn't. But Vash does. Content as he is to ignore the (mostly) silent disapproval and keep his focus on his other self, he can't help but leap to his double's defense at the accusation when it's voiced aloud. He gets where Knives is coming from, but more so than that, he understands the other Vash's position even better. He's pretty sure that's not what this is about. Not entirely anyway, although most of it might just be a mindless panic response. ]

Knives, that's not—

[ it. He means to say, but he gets distracted by one of his larger feathers seeming intend on reaching for the raised hand like it might curl around it. So far the proximity and any incidental brushing hasn't set anything off and Vash would very much like to keep it that way. He has no idea if, without any juice in the tank (so to speak), his feathers can still hold and transfer memories. He's not keen on finding out the hard way. The last thing his other self needs right now is a peek at... well, anything of his past, really. When glowering at the feather and willing very, very hard for it to stop doesn't work (as usual), he's forced to lean forward and put one hand on Vash's back to balance himself as his other snatches the feather right before it can make contact... upon which his wing immediately jerks upward and out of his grasp. Knives might want to lean back real fast or risk getting whacked in the face by it.

It also means he overbalances somewhat, unintentionally putting more weight on the crouched figure. ]

Ack, sorry!

[ Throwing that blanket apology out there straight away. What a fine, clumsy mess they make. ]

[skelters]

[ even with vash's carefully pitched words of consolation, it's hard to ignore their brother; it would be almost impossible really, the sharpened edge of the words hitting home and making vash shrink all the more, recoiling inwardly in on himself like a snail. or a tortoise. stubborn and stupid and too dumb to see it in any other way but his own.

it's okay, he's about to tell the other, hearing the whistle of the air as he raises his voice to shush knives and cut him off before he could say anything more. it's okay. he is right. he should know better than this. should have known better. should have prepared better, expected something of this sort, after what he's heard from vash. but he wouldn't have expected this in any shape or form. the only word he can use to describe it is ... peculiar. alien. like coming home and finding a stranger in your house. someone who wears your face and has taken root among your belongings as though it is theirs now. the anxiety sits heavy in the pitch of his stomach but vash tries to force it out through deep breaths, feeling the rough and smooth patches of the floor against his cheek, the heavy weight of it against the bend of his knees.

before he could catch his breath to actually voice any of these, however, vash ends up letting out a surprised, choked squawk instead as the other ends up overturning over him all in a topple. ]

Hrk- ugh- Are, Are you okay??

[ half raising himself up by his arms, only narrowly avoiding buckling under the weight of both of them (and then some, considering the ... extra appendages), vash hastily turns half towards the other, reaching out with a hand to steady him from falling backwards on his ass. how much more uncoordinated can they get?

this also means that the hood falls away from his face, but who is paying attention here to any of that? ]

[brutalact]

[knives doesn't have any intention of detangling the two idiots from each other, frustration obvious across his features as vash attempts to chide him for whatever new mistake he's apparently made. the window is closed and locked and v's attempted escape thwarted for now, knives is ready to walk away and find a towel or blanket to wick away bath water that still clings to him. damp feathers sticking to his skin only invite more of the chill v had let in moments ago, his own wings tucked as close as he can manage against his body, although their bulk and size make his steps around the twins a task.

enough of a task that he doesn't react in time to avoid having vash's own wing smacking him in the face. he's knocked down, hitting the floor with a loud thump and a flurry of smaller, downy feathers launch themselves into the air to cascade around them in a slow descent.]

Damn it, Vash...!

[he growls out, sharpened teeth on display as he holds a hand over his bruised nose, pushing himself up while trying not to slip on his own wings. he looks over his hand to glower briefly at his brother, annoyance flared all for a moment when his attention is pulled down towards v, noting his hood had finally fallen back.]

What is this?

[attention pinpointed completely on the glowing markings that decorated v's face, knives' earlier slight is forgotten entirely as he closes the distance with an intense quickness to study this glowing discovery up close, leaving v to be nearly completely encircled by two sets of oversized wings and innumerable feathers.]

Fascinating. Are your sisters the same?

[leave it to knives to have the worst timing imaginable.]

[amo]

[ Much to his dismay, he can feel his wing connect and the situation further devolves when he can hear Knives toppling over and hitting the ground. Vash only gets a tiny glimpse of the shower of feathers that's subsequently exploding all over the kitchenette because he pretty much immediately squeezes his eyes shut and tenses; bracing to be hit over the head and preemptively cowering at the cursing of his name. ]

Soooorryyy—!

[ It comes out as a blatant whine, another near-instinctive attempt to placate by being as pathetic and pitiable as possible. Not that Knives is likely to fall for it, but it's a tactic that never hurts to try.

At least the other victim of his blunder is much more gracious about it. There's kind concern and a hand reaching out to steady him when Vash threatens to fall backwards as the body underneath him moves up. The thought to hide from his brother's wrath behind his other self strikes him, the urge to duck low and press close to the inviting warmth is temptingly strong. Before he can actually act on it, Knives' sudden question distracts him.

The abrupt change of tone in his brother's voice is enough to make Vash crack open an eye in curiosity after which the other is quick to follow suit at what he sees. Even with the scarf still covering half of his double's face, without the hood it's obvious: ]

You glow!

[ He gasps, eyes wide with wonder as they trace what little he can perceive of the pattern illuminating the other Vash's skin. All previous apprehension about proximity and fear for Knives' retaliation is forgotten as he can't help but lean in with the desire for a closer look.

At least right up until his wing bumps against Knives' in the confined space and the foreign contact has him reeling back as though he's received an electric shock. He might be falling on his ass anyway. Oops. ]