>:3

風は未来に吹く

[angelictyphoon]

vash the stampede of trigun | trimax | stampede

by fair | she/they | 18+

heavy trimax influences. low-activity. highly selective and private.

guidelines. art blog.

verses.

sing this familiar song - standard trimax fare.

hug the sunlight - standard stampede fare.

gazing at tomorrow - post trimax, if god could grant him one wish, please let it be this one.

coup de grâce - post trimax, bad end. he failed. left behind, he witnesses the last vestiges of humanity fade from no man's land.

blogroll →

Trigun

@angelictyphoon, Vash the Stampede - ACTIVE @wolfwoocl, Nicholas D. Wolfwood - ACTIVE @nahashim, Knives Millions - REQUEST FF7

@wingsdreamt, Zack Fair - ACTIVE @serafim, Sephiroth - REQUEST @makoblue, Cloud Strife - REQUEST @labratdog, Nanaki - INACTIVE @strikingheaven, Tifa Lockhart - INACTIVE @villagerain, Balto (Katana) of the Turks - INACTIVE

WHA

@qifuli, Qifrey - INACTIVE @olugio, Olruggio - INACTIVE

[forgivenpunishment]

"H-hey, you know I'm kidding, right!?" Wolfwood has to kick himself into double-step to catch up, not that he really has to step at all, "I—I've never, I wouldn't—ugh, what's the point...?"

Somehow Vash had reversed the entire situation and made him flustered instead. Nice going, idiot. The priest grumbles the whole way as he follows the ever-distractable Humanoid Typhoon, careful not to let his whispering within earshot but... well... who is he kidding? Vash can hear every instance of him putting himself down—hell, even if he kept it all inside of his head, the Plant would probably still find a way to hear his thoughts.

For now, he carries himself and dutifully follows Vash until they come up on what the Beast is swarming over.

***

Worms have been a source of sustenance on this planet since humanity's arrival, and likely even before, as Zazie's bugs seem to have no objection to necessary cannibalism. Maybe there's some kind of scientific word for that. Maybe Vash would know. Even so, Wolfwood has never particularly enjoyed watching the way that any variation of the creature squirms around or flies—yes, he'll eat them, but in the same way that any living thing would do whatever it took to survive.

Plus, meeting Zazie kind of took all the fun out of catching a bunch of worms and snacking on them. When any one of them can look at him with their beady eyes and laugh at him or taunt him, he'd prefer not to interact with them in the first place.

He'd followed Vash fully expecting to simply faze himself out of the conversation—surely Zazie has plenty of things to taunt Vash with and jab Vash with that would just make Wolfwood irrationally angry. Since there's not really anything he can do about it, getting angry is pointless.

But—

"Eh? They can see me?" Wolfwood practically buzzes around Vash, swooping from shoulder to shoulder before settling slightly behind the man and folding his arms. Great, so the people that he is limited to interacting with are Vash, Knives (he assumes, on the basis that Vash can see him), and... Zazie. Zazie, who is—quite possibly—the most annoying of his ex-coworkers on the basis of how omnipotent they pretended to be. And sneaky. Can't forget how sneaky they were, as a body snatcher of sorts. "You can see me?"

He gestures to himself dumbly and pins his attention to the leader of the worms, his volume a bit louder than its been for a long while. Moreover, their phrasing was... odd. Good? It's good that Vash saw them? It's even better that... Nicholas is here? Why?

"Yeah, well, Tongari here was just about to pass you by if I didn't stop him first. If ya really wanted his attention, maybe you should give his noggin a couple knocks, come say hello like a normal person. S'not like a swarm a bugs is really unusual nowadays. Or... ever has been."

[angelictyphoon]

“Worry not, Punisher. We would have used the necessary measures to get in touch.” 

Zazie certainly looks thrilled with themselves, all abuzz with enthusiasm as the swarm behind them undulates in time to their swaying gestures. 

Vash, on the other hand, is still too shell-shocked by the sudden earth shattering revelation that Wolfwood was and truly is here not in the flesh, but here nonetheless. Not so much a figment of his own imagination, which had been the worst case scenario, but some supernatural phenomena beyond his understanding. Every vulnerable moment, every ounce of frustration, every tear, gasp, and sob suddenly flashes through his mind’s eye, and Vash swallows thickly to fight back the wave of nausea that washes over him. He's thankful that Wolfwood cannot fully see his expression at present. 

Zazie's face clouds briefly with a moment of realization, but the damage is already done. Considering the nature of the information which they were about to convey, however, poor Vash’s mortification might be somewhat eased.

“This is what I want you to see,” Zazie says, sweeping out their arm behind them and parting the swarm in the same motion. 

There in this moment Vash and Wolfwood would probably bear witness to one of the most disturbing things in their respective life and afterlife: a withered corpse, exposed at the torso up to the elements. A slender, winged worm crowns the deceased’s head. Its many legs are a balancing point for the arched tail currently embedded in the spine. Another, longer, soft and fleshy like a fresh peach, has curled its segmented body around the neck.

“It took a while for us to perfect the technique… there cannot be any disturbances whatsoever. Veins and nerves may as well be dust if we don’t attach juuust right.” 

They appear oblivious to the horror on the audience’s faces.

Wrinkled flesh and empty eye sockets have suddenly grown full again, flushed with color and jelly and soft parts renewed. A normal person. Short, cropped hair the color of caramel toffee, freckles, and a lack of fine lines indicated that this stranger must have perished in their thirties or twenties. Their glassy eyes roll around aimlessly in their sockets, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. 

Spent worms, exhausted of their fluids and life force, fall as empty husks onto the sand.

“...thirs…sty…”

Zazie glances back at the revived corpse, then shrugs. “Sometimes they finish a sentence. Just a word or two, really, if it was on the tongue, but as it turns out, firing up the meatstuff up here,” they tap the side of their head, “Isn’t enough. Missing that special zing, y’know? But since you've got him with you, it should work. Anyway, I thought I’d do you a favor and–”

“Yes,” Vash interjects, with an intensity and abruptness that surprises even himself. Even if the question hasn’t been asked, he already has the answer. Quieter, with a deeply rooted sense of shame overruled by desperation: “...please.”

[forgivenpunishment]

"Two—Two years?! Nuh uh," Wolfwood's shade pauses briefly in disbelief, then shifts double-time to get back to Vash's side, his brow furrowed behind the meager projection of sunglasses in frustration. His glare is calculating, analytical, trying to decide if the ever-moving-forward Vash is pulling his phantom leg or not. "Come on, Needles, you can't keep doin' this to yourself..."

With a sigh, Wolfwood backs off. There's very little he can actually do in this situation. Hell, Vash doesn't even think he's real. He thinks. He's pretty sure. God, if only he had a corporeal body, he'd...

He'd, what, starve to death on this barren planet? Burden Vash with the necessities that come with caring for a human on the brink of starvation and dehydration?

Still, the once-blond man finds it in himself to make jokes. Wolfwood scoffs at his comment—maybe he'd even find it in himself to blush if he had to blood to do so.

"Ghosts can be hot too," he grumbles, teetering perhaps a bit too close to an edge that they'd potentially left behind years upon years ago. He'd never bothered to ask. He's kind of afraid to know the answer. "I can see you doin' anything, you know, kind of voyeur-ish of me. I can make it so you can't see me. Very mysterious stuff."

We could pretend.

Wolfwood shakes that train of thought off immediately. Something like that is too painful for both of them. It's not the same. It's not the same.

"Of course you'd be into the one that bites. I'll put a word in with the big man downstairs that he gave me the wrong unholy form. I'll make sure he gives me the pointiest, sharpest teeth to match your spiky head," or perhaps Vash's own fangs, he reminds himself, almost forgetting the way those inhuman canines felt against his—

Get a hold of yourself.

He huffs, sighing at Vash's unwillingness to cut himself any slack. Something interesting, eh? Well, surely that can be arranged...

Wolfwood responds with a mere grunt, letting silence speak for him as they march perpetually forward... but he does keep his eyes open for any kind of... well he's not sure. Something. Something interesting.

He's not sure how much time passes, but something comes a bit sooner than he'd ultimately expected.

"Alright, how about that?" the ghost manifests a few feet in front of Vash, forcing the other man to address him as he points to the northeastern horizon, "Worms swarming over there. S'that interestin' enough for ya?"

Sure enough, far in the distance, a dark cloud of buzzing worms begs to be noticed. Granted, Wolfwood doesn't particularly enjoy the idea of a spat with Zazie... but Zazie wouldn't be talking to him, now would they?

Or... It's just a corpse. A large corpse, but a corpse nonetheless. Whatever, if it makes Vash's dreadful pace slow down, a win's a win.

[angelictyphoon]

“A peeping ghost!” Vash exclaims with a gasp and a hand placed delicately over his sternum. The flattering shade of pink dusting his cheeks could not have been more obvious in the light of day. The tips of his fingers wander up to parted lips, chapped by the dry air and moistened briefly with a flicker of his tongue. “I will certainly bear that in mind when I start feeling a little hot and bothered about someone watching me...”

They never would have been so brazen before. Maybe it was just that they never got the chance. Play along, play pretend, they've done that ad nauseam even before that fated day. No reason to stop now here at the end of the world when it's all they have left.

More idle daydreaming he best not to linger on.

“--Uh?”

Without giving it a second thought, Vash comes to an abrupt stop to avoid colliding into Wolfwood. He knows better, of course. The first thing Vash ever did the moment the apparition of Wolfwood appeared before him was try to touch him. Still, it's only polite not to walk through someone trying to tell you something. Vash shields his eyes with the back of his hand to get a clearer view of the shifting mass of buzzing worms in the distance. 

Something must have caught Zazie’s attention enough for them to swarm on the surface. The deal had been to stop whenever Wolfwood noticed something interesting, not head right towards it. Good thing Wolfwood couldn't stop him from doing just that.

“Alright. I'll take a break right after I check out what's going on.” He offers Wolfwood a smile little more than the slightest curl of his lips, but it is a smile nonetheless. “Promise.”

At this distance, he has to lengthen his stride and fall into a jog to close the gap if he has any hope of investigating whatever has piqued Zazie’s interest. When Vash is close enough that the sound of buzzing wings completely fills the air, the swarm seems to turn its entire attention on him. The mass shifts like a slow-moving liquid

“So you do have eyes to see with! This is good. Even better, Nicholas the Punisher is with you as well!”

So Zazie was expecting him. That isn't atypical considering their past history of cryptic messaging, but–

“Wait."

The unbearable heat vanishes, replaced instead by shards of icy fear lodged in his throat. “Say that again?”

“The. Pun. Ish. Er,” Zazie repeats, playfully enunciating each syllable. They pause, peering at Vash and Wolfwood with a pondering tilt of their head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed him following you around like a tumbleweed.”

[forgivenpunishment]

For a moment, Wolfwood lingers in the same spot like he can feel the warmth Vash leaves behind where he was sitting. He sighs—not being capable of dragging Vash's scrawny ass right back down for a proper scolding is a bummer... as are most things, in this paranormal situation.

Before Vash can get too far away from him, Wolfwood disappears and reappears just above the Independent's shoulder. He hovers in the air, looming casually as they... kind of... walk together.

"You're askin' me if I get hungry after you mention somethin' like worm smoothies? If that's what food's like nowadays, I think it's best to be incorporeal."

He doesn't get hungry, not really. It wouldn't make much sense, since, well, he's not alive. But he does miss food. That's kind of like a hunger. And if that's their definition, he's hungry for a lot of things, all the time. Vash included.

"Why? When's the last time you ate, huh?" Wolfwood can't physically poke and prod the man, but he can use his words to effectively needle the needle-headed idiot, "Aren't you hungry? Don't think I've seen you eat since I've appeared this time around."

Craving some sense of normalcy, the priest floats to the ground to walk just behind and to the side of Vash. He doesn't deserve to walk at his side... so this is... it's enough. He can keep an eye on him and... it's fine.

"Don't really get hungry. Don't really feel anything. I'm a ghost, not a vampire," Wolfwood grumbles, shoving his hands into his pants pockets, "And I told you, I don't really know why I'm here... so I don't know what's sustaining me. Guess all that supernatural bullshit I never really took any stock in was real all along."

He lets the silence hang, focusing in on the sound of Vash's boots crunching on the sand. Looking down at his own feet, he notices that they don't make any noise. Of course they don't. Of course...

"We're gonna take breaks this time, Tongari," Wolfwood warns, "You can't sustain yourself like this forever, and I'm tired of just sittin' back and watchin'."

[angelictyphoon]

"And what if I told you it's already been two years on the clock?" Vash asks, tapping a finger on the back of his wrist with a dim glint of mischief stirring in his eyes before his gaze is cast back towards the endless desert. If food is immaterial to the incorporeal, then it stands to reason that the measurement of time is equally irrelevant.

For all either of them could know, Vash has not just slipped down the ledge a mere few minutes ago. Perhaps it has been longer than that.

He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing one foot to fall before the other. The better to imagine the sound of an additional set of footsteps beside him. It has been more than a decade since. There was a time where they were inseparable, separated, and then...whatever this in-between is. This new normal. It feels normal sometimes. Just like this. He can pretend until whatever otherworldly forces determine that Wolfwood is needed elsewhere.

"Vampire...That would've been kinda hot. Shoulda picked vampire instead of ghost for your undead afterlife, Nick." The suns are merciless. Even for Vash the heat is oppressive. He can feel the sweat beginning to bead on his brow from the mere exertion of walking in the sand. "People were really fascinated with them. Books, movies, TV shows. Some people even made their own fang caps. It was a whole thing."

"I'll rest when I feel like it." He sounds only a little petulant. "A bit of sun, a bit of water...What more could a Plant need?" Not that he ever worried about stressing out poor Nicholas D. Wolfwood overly much while he was alive, Vash considers the possibility that he ought to be nicer now that Wolfwood's...dead. The very word itself lodges itself awkwardly in his brain. The word he's denied with every fiber with his being every day since. Maybe that's why Wolfwood manifested. In that case, then the solution would be...

Unbearable to consider.

"Also, you're walking and watching. Difference. Just--" Vash looks around at the nothingness around them, like it might somehow suddenly turn up an answer. "I'll stop for a break if you manage to spot something interesting. How 'bout that?"

[carnivalfair]

https://ko-fi.com/s/dff65ff65b

THE SAMPLES CAME IN RAHHH AND I'm now taking pre-orders for 60cmx90cm and .3cm thick (23.6"x 35.4", ~1/8" thick) Trigun Stampede and Trigun Maximum-inspired desk mats! If you've ever wanted the Punisher laid out on your desk like a fine lady now is your chance ‼️‼️

[angelictyphoon]

Whether this version of Wolfwood is real or not, his presence matters. The weight of his words, however weightless he may be, are not insignificant. Nicholas was never insignificant. 

“I would never.”

Nothing in his expression would give him away to someone who didn’t know any better. Their conversations can be a mix of truth and lies, whichever suits his whims at a given moment. The stars may continue to burn millions of miles away, crawling across the skies each night besides the moons, and that is the only way Vash knows that time has not come to a standstill. The edges of the cigarette box pressed against his side are the truest thing in his pocket, creasing lines beneath his coat like the silhouette of a tiny coffin. 

Gunsmoke exists in a tenuous state of balance. He might even go so far as to call it harmony. What few humans remain have found their salvation in subsisting entirely off worms. Zazie no longer considers mankind a long-term threat to their survival. Knives, though he would inevitably return, is a far-off threat. His brother will be disappointed, no doubt. Vash hasn’t changed his mind about much of anything. He has his own plans.

Plans which he can presently feel Wolfwood attempting to scrutinize by drilling a hole into the side of his head with ghostly eyes. 

Lacking the ability to sink through the sand and hide at will, Vash picks a direction and starts walking. Ghostwood can choose to stay or follow. He doesn’t think he’s ever had any control over the when and where his companion chose to materialize. 

“I haven’t been to Thomasville in a while,” Vash says, completely changing the subject. It’s not like Wolfwood can physically trap him in any particular conversation now. His bag bounces along his back as he adjusts his grip on one of the many straps circling the black canvas. 

“Contrary to the name, they’ve mostly been dabbling with wormy goods. Wormy things. Worm science. Who would’ve thought. I heard they created some kind of modified worm carapace that can capture moisture out of the air. Not a whole lot, but it’s something. I’m not sure how it all works, to be honest…” He glances over his shoulder, smiling performatively at the vision of Wolfwood he knows must be trailing close behind. “Beats drinking beer or worm smoothies all the time, I bet.”

The walk from here will take at least a week or less, depending on whether Wolfwood can convince him to make camp and sleep. No change in hallucinations even after going on three days without rest. He tested that theory thoroughly, much to Wolfwood’s chagrin.

“Do you ever get hungry, walking around this much? I guess that wouldn’t make any sense, right? Can’t lose energy if you’re not spending any.”

[angelictyphoon]

"where am i supposed to go?"

@forgivenpunishment

“I dunno, to the Great Beyond? Through the big pearly gates? Wherever it is ghosts are meant to go!” 

Vash’s voice is hoarse. The words are wound tight, pitched just short of tearing up out of pure frustration. He doesn’t hold back much anymore whenever the Apparition, capital A, does appear.

The rest of the world isn’t around to watch or to judge. There is only him. Cry, scream, or plead, what difference does it make? Vash has convinced himself that he sees what he wants to see. 

Someone who is no longer here. 

One of many, many souls claimed by his selfishness. His inability to accept what his brother had become and prevent the worst possible outcome. Failure: completely, utterly, totally. After all his promises. All his bluster. At rock bottom, he still only manages to consider his own wants. A mockery of his own making wearing the face of a dead friend.

A sharp, pained gasp interrupts his thoughts. The gasp is his own; a reminder that he still very much needs to breathe. Even if Wolfwood doesn’t.

“Why are you here?” he snaps, trying to keep the vision of Wolfwood just at the edge of his periphery. The lingering anger in his voice is nothing but the remnants of a flash fire. Vash keeps his eyes trained ahead on the half-buried remains of an empty settlement. Looking at Nicholas straight on has never really worked. He wants to. God, he’s tried. When looked at directly, the image of Wolfwood merely shimmers, becoming as indiscernible as the heat rising off the dunes during the midday swelter.

Vash draws up his knees, hugging them with the feeling of being only slightly more mad at himself than usual.

“Last time you gave me a stupid answer about how I ‘looked too sad’.” 

If that were the case, then Wolfwood’s answer would be the same every time. Vash always looks too sad. 

“So what is it this time?”

[ohisms]

✱ ˚｡⋆ ↪ MORBID CURIOSITY ... [ REMASTERED ] ( a collection of various original dialogue prompts centered around asking questions. adjust phrasing / gendered terms as necessary. )

give that to me! where did you find this?!

do you drink coffee or tea?

sorry– am i crazy, or have we met before?

do you trust me enough to close your eyes?

when were you planning on telling me?

at the risk of being a cliché, do you want to get out of here?

can i convince you to stay the night?

do i look like someone who knows what that means?

would you consider giving me a second chance?

do you really think that's helpful right now?

would you mind showing me around?

do you ever plan on forgiving yourself?

are you thinking what i'm thinking?

can we ... go out and do something crazy?

why are we whispering?

who exactly are you, anyways?

can't we just be civil for a minute?

does the past ever keep you up at night?

if you have nothing to hide, what's the problem?

how long has it been since i saw you last, [ name ]?

did the power just go out?

are we still doing the thing where we pretend not to care?

how should we celebrate?

can we just ... start over?

why is this so important to you?

how was i supposed to know that?!

do you want me to stay? it doesn't have to mean anything.

where are you? nobody's heard from you.

can you help me zip this up?

why do these things always happen to me?

you don't secretly hate me, right?

can i get you something to eat? –or drink?

ready to see what i've been working on?

where have you been disappearing off to?

what's that perfume you're wearing?

you're laughing?! do you really think this is funny?

are you planning to stay for dinner?

did you think it was going to be easy?

you see where you went wrong, don't you?

when did we become so cold and distant?

who are you working for?

did you really do all of this for me?

can i open my eyes yet?

haven't you heard the stories?

[ name ], what are you doing here?

what's it gonna take for you to trust me?

do you believe people can change?

how about we catch the ten o'clock showing?

don't you remember what happened last time?

why is it so unbelievable that i'd want to help you?

you're [ name ], aren't you?

who did this to you?!

how did you know i'd be here?

what's that supposed to mean?

do you think i'm irredeemable?

what kind of mess have you gotten us into?!

do you see anything you like?

what do i owe you for the food?

why won't this stupid thing work?!

does tonight really have to end?

holy shit. can you believe we really pulled that off?!

i can tell you're upset, [ name ]. what happened?

how long have you been standing there?

do you ever wish you could just ... run away?

haven't we been here before?

wait, shush ... did you hear that?

did i miss today's newsletter or something?

can we put our differences aside for a second?

what are you getting out of this, exactly?

you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?

are you willing to bet on it?

would you kill for me?

what made you think that was okay?!

do you believe people can change?

what's the worst thing you've ever done?

you were going to leave without saying goodbye?

[ name ], can you sit up for me?

can i kiss you?

where are your keys? you're not driving like this.

how's life been treating you?

where have you been?!

aren't we supposed to be alone tonight?

aw, has someone had a little too much to drink?

where are you going with this?

are we really doing this right now?

have you eaten today?

can i crash here for the night?

how did you learn to lie so well?

can i at least buy you a drink?

where should i meet you?

is that  ...  blood?!

are you trying to make me jealous right now?

what’s your problem? you're acting weird.

[ name ], you're ... real, right?

where’s your sense of adventure?

do you like horror movies?

what are you trying to prove?

can you give me a ride?

do you have any idea what you've done?

shouldn't you answer that?

why should i be the one to calm down?

have you been up all night?

why are you lying to me?

is that my [ jacket / hoodie / shirt ]?

what are you so afraid of?

do you want to grow old with me?

you’re gonna walk away from this?

are you nervous? your hands are shaking.

where am i supposed to go?

how many fingers am i holding up?

you want me to just walk away from this?

[ name ], slow down– what's wrong?!

are you embarrassed of me?

what's that smell? something's burning.

how can i make it up to you?

why can't you stay out of it?

is this some kind of trick?

come on, what do you have to lose?

do you ever still think of me?

idiot. why didn't you tell me?!

can we stop and think about this rationally?

how long has it been since you’ve slept?

what's your ideal first date?

are you ready to tell me the truth?

i almost died, and you're laughing?

what do you mean, "sort of"?

can we just stay like this forever?

when can i see you again?

can we put this behind us?

oh ... you thought of me first?

where did you learn to do that?

oh my god,  are you bleeding?!

where are you?  nobody’s heard from you.

[ name ], are you drunk?

how can i make this go away?

someone's jumpy today. are you feeling okay?

are we safe here?

what can i do to convince you?

what could possibly go wrong?

you have no idea who i am, do you?

how do you really feel about me?

why can't you look me in the eyes?

did you know you talk in your sleep?

were you following me?

can we just pretend this never happened?

are you just barely getting home?

are you even listening to me right now?!

where does it hurt?  can you show me?

are you trying to get yourself killed?!

how about we just forget the world exists?

how long have you been keeping this from me?

were you ever going to tell me?

what do you make of this?

[ name ],  what the hell?!

can we just be honest with each other, here?

are you trying to keep me a secret?

why does your story keep changing?

how long have you known?

it can't be that bad, right?

are you happy? i mean, really happy?

isn't this place amazing?

did i interrupt something?

how am i supposed to trust you?

are they still following us?

are you fucking serious?

do you remember our first kiss?

can we take a break for a minute?

how about we disappear for awhile?

you're going to walk away from this?

can you please just cut the crap?!

why didn't you tell me you were hurt?

how can i make this go away?

can you just look at me, please?

is there anything i can do to change your mind?

do you ever stop talking?

that depends. are you done lying to me?

are you sure this is legal?

how do you take your coffee?

can you keep your voice down?

why does your phone keep buzzing?

[carnivalfair]

I HAVENT WATCHED THE NEW TRIGUN STARGAZE TRAILER YET. im popping in to join in on the hype because i did make some art for an upcoming stamp rally at anime los angeles and now i will disappear once again good bye

[angelictyphoon]

vash the stampede of trigun | trimax | stampede

by fair | she/they | 18+

heavy trimax influences. low-activity. highly selective and private.

guidelines. art blog.

verses.

sing this familiar song - standard trimax fare.

hug the sunlight - standard stampede fare.

gazing at tomorrow - post trimax, if god could grant him one wish, please let it be this one.

coup de grâce - post trimax, bad end. he failed. left behind, he witnesses the last vestiges of humanity fade from no man's land.

blogroll →

Trigun

@angelictyphoon, Vash the Stampede - ACTIVE @wolfwoocl, Nicholas D. Wolfwood - ACTIVE @nahashim, Knives Millions - REQUEST FF7

@wingsdreamt, Zack Fair - ACTIVE @serafim, Sephiroth - REQUEST @makoblue, Cloud Strife - REQUEST @labratdog, Nanaki - INACTIVE @strikingheaven, Tifa Lockhart - INACTIVE @villagerain, Balto (Katana) of the Turks - INACTIVE

WHA

@qifuli, Qifrey - INACTIVE @olugio, Olruggio - INACTIVE

[angelictyphoon]

.

[heartinhands]

"Cheers to dark pasts." Well, he would cheers, although he already killed his shot. So instead Spike leans forward on his elbow-propped hand to put his chin in the palm of his hand, quiet, content, mostly listening, biding his time, dark eyes watching Vash's figure as he flits in his seat, red coat turning crimson in the occasional burst of light from the flickering light bulb overhead. Now that Gregory's head has graced the counter with its presence, Spike can't really pretend he's just killing time by looking at him anymore. An amused smile plays over his lips.

But there's a few problems about the Humanoid Typhoon. Mostly that the more Vash talks the more Spike's lasting impression is that this guy is weird! And so the cowboy frowns mostly to himself--getting a read on Vash beyond that strangeness is proving nearly impossible. One moment he seems to toe the line to becoming 'wise' and then he crashes and falls right back into 'silly' territory. Spike likes to think himself as a pretty flexible guy, but Vash is so off-kilter even he's having trouble keeping up.

"Appreciate the offer but I'm pretty good at getting to where I'm going when I'm drunk." Spike waves the bartender back over. "Now how about that third shot..." his voice shifts mid-sentence in its addressing from Vash to the man behind the counter to reflect a subtle change. "Actually, I'll get a beer." If he is going to be drinking for much longer he better start pacing himself.

Well, what the hell. Vash is being impossible to read and Spike's tired of trying to peer through the lines for a guy who's just supposed to be a bounty, and anyway he never thought it'd be a good idea to seek the Stampede out. "So what's the Humanoid Typhoon doing in a sleepy little town like this." Less question more comment. "Or are you just running from your sad, dark past here, too?" This is a proper question, although of the more rhetorical bantering kind.

[angelictyphoon]

Patience is generally a precious, finite thing that people possess in sparing quantities. These transitionary moments are always teaching ones. People show who they truly are, however, his new, well-dressed drinking buddy  isn’t the one he’s worried about. He hasn’t seen any of the typical warning signs that demand an immediate evacuation of the premises, but even in the humdrum of conversation there are keener ears than the drunken laughter in the background lets on.

No need to have the fine people of this town key into their conversation and get any funny ideas.

“Oh, what a bounty hunter wouldn’t give to hear the answer to that one! Would you look at the time, I do actually need to get running from my sad, dark past.” Vash glances at an imaginary watch on his wrist, then waves a hand in the air like a white flag.

“Mister Leslie! On the tab as usual for me, please! And my new friend over here, please.”

Ugh. He never gets to stay in town for longer than a week or two. Always some bounty hunter or busy body scent hound chasing his tail one way or another…

Vash wiggles his fingers in Spike’s direction and excuses himself. 

“If I ever figure out what the Humanoid Typhoon is up to, I’ll be sure to let you know. Mister, uh…”

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood can't help the stupid, soft smile that Vash puts on his face as he goes through his usual dinner habits—most of which Wolfwood's not sure he understands where they came from, but they seem to be attached to the type of food that he's eating. Maybe it's his age, maybe it's just how... worldly he is, despite how small the world is to them... but it's incredibly endearing. Cute, even.

(Blegh.)

He settles with his own box of noodles and does a half-hearted, speechless prayer to whoever's listening with the typical flick of his eyes upwards and a quick cross on his chest. After breaking his own chopsticks (always uneven—there's always one lopsided chunk of wood lingering at the top of one of them because he's him), Wolfwood shovels his own mouthful of noodles in, finding a reason to stall conversation almost as if it's on purpose.

His following sigh is more of a grumble than it is any sort of sign of relaxation. What the hell kind of story can he tell about himself?

"I guess getting barfed on by babies isn't really your idea of embarrassing, is it?" he scoffs dryly, knowing that Vash is prying for something... deeper. Something more revealing. Ugh, these little games drive him insane. "Well, I dunno. Embarrassing—what can I..."

The priest grumbles again behind a bundle of noodles, then a spark ignites light in his gray eyes.

"There were these girls that liked teasing me. I dunno, they were older than me and had a mean streak and I was an easy target. I think they were one of the older girls' friends, because a couple of 'em weren't from the orphanage—and it was real funny watchin' how their faces went from sneers to doe-eyed watchin' me when their orphan friends weren't lookin'."

Shrugging, he continues, "Anyway, I guess a couple of them had a crush on me or whatever, and it was a big deal to them. I had bigger problems to worry about than girls, and they hated that. One of 'em had enough of me not payin' attention to her and recruited the group into tryin' to rope me in. I dunno what the idea was, but they started fooling around with the thomas, and got the momma real mad at them. One of the girls ran to me and told me that her friend was stuck in the thoma pen and that she was in danger and needed help—you know, naturally ran to me instead of any of our caretakers because she knew she was in trouble. Well, I ran to the pens as fast as I could and there was the girl in the mud, dressed in her Sunday best and sure enough she had a bruise on her forehead from the bird. The other girls just watched, thinkin' I'd swoop in and swat off the mama and save their friend, but, uh..."

He snickers. Maybe this one isn't that embarrassing for him, so much as it is for the girls.

"The first thing I did was soothe the thoma. The second thing I did was swing around and start yellin' at the girl for being an idiot, that they weren't ridin' thoma, that if ya get too close to their eggs then you're gonna get hurt—sound familiar?—and she was just cryin' and cryin'..."

Wolfwood hangs his head and shakes it slowly, remembering the way her friends stared at him with their mouths wide open, catching worms...

"And then this girl opens her palm and she was clutching this note in her muddy little hand, like it's some kinda truce. So I took it and it was a... confession. It had a little doodle of us in the corner, and it was all official and initialed—she wrote my full name in cursive—and I didn't know what to do, so I ran. I ran past the caretakers, ran past my brother, I found the first place I could think of to be alone and I stared at this stupid little note..."

He holds his hands out as though he's holding the note in his hands. His fingers still cling to the chopsticks, empty. A laugh bubbles from his sinuses as he recalls the moment, but his mouth pressed into an awkward frown gives away how embarrassed he is about it even now.

"I locked myself in the adults' bathroom and I cried about it. It was the type of cryin' that I didn't know why I was cryin' so much, but they—srnk—they needed to break the door handle to get me out because I was so stubborn. I ended up bein' the one to get in trouble. The girls lied about what happened and told the adults that I took the note and laughed at them. I didn't really care, 'cause the girls didn't bother me anymore that way. Like I said—I had bigger things to worry about."

Having starved himself long enough from all the words he'd just shared, Wolfwood digs back into his food and takes two massive bites of noodles, then takes a swig of water. Once it's all swallowed, he turns to his companion with a raised eyebrow.

"Satisfied?"

[angelictyphoon]

Between the wet slurping of noodles and the flickerings of Wolfwood’s chagrin manifesting in the occasional twist of his lips and the wrinkling at the corner or his nose, Vash discerns no cause for concern. Wolfwood walks himself through the conversation, one-sided in a way that Vash happily obliges. 

Whether he voiced his thoughts or not, Wolfwood seems to pick them all up with the same tidiness of a maid clearing the room. 

Schloop. Vash sucks down the bundle of noodles pinched between his chopsticks. Now, only the sound of Wolfwood’s voice carries throughout the room. Vash grasps the edge of his seat with both palms, leaning his weight on them and listening raptly as Nicholas tells his story. An exemplary story in more ways than one, covering so many lessons about Nicholas D. Wolfwood that Vash has learned. Only…

Vash figures out that Wolfwood hasn’t exactly answered the prompt as promised around the same moment the priest himself brings it up. A dark brow climbs up, questioning, then drops as quickly as a weight. Aghast, Vash covers his open mouth with his hands.

“You ran…!” 

The finished story leaves Vash with more questions than answers. An ending which gives no satisfaction, only this sense of splintering. Branches, scenes that would not be illustrated. Vash has no intention of pressing for more. ‘More’ would be greedy and cruel. He tries to picture Wolfwood crying, this strange, unfamiliar image formed in his mind’s eye that hurts to think of more than it should.

“Yes,” Vash, pursing his lips with all the guilt of a friend who accidentally revived an unpleasant memory. He can feel it coming as the weight of the chopsticks drifts along the oily surface of the broth. 

The awkward silence.

“...Soo would you cry if someone gave you a love note now?”

[angelictyphoon]

Wolfwood leaves the room and comes back before it's too late in the morning. When he returns, he holds a basket of beignets, steaming hot and with three different sauces to dip them into on the side. They're coated in powdered sugar; the equally molten-hot sauces seem to be chocolate, caramel, and strawberry flavors.

"Good morning Sleepyhead—I got you some grub," he places them on the nightstand, well within range for Vash to be able to smell them. "The baker said they were uh… French doughnuts? So I figured we could have these and then maybe do something else that's French, since it's your birthday and all."

He clears his throat and hides behind his tinted lenses, blushing slightly and fighting every moment of it. Being forward is not his forte.

"Yeah, I bet you thought you could hide that from me, huh? Well, no dice. Happy birthday, Spikey."

@forgivenpunishment

What gave it away? Vash wants to ask, but somehow the blood rushing to his face has the inexplicable side effect of interfering with his ability to speak. He’s equally embarrassed. From the tips of his ears to the top of his exposed shoulders, the latter of which rapidly disappear beneath the blanket that he's pulled up.

Maybe he was staring too wistfully and too long off into the distance, reminiscing on a past life. Maybe he’s been tossing and turning more in his sleep lately in the days leading up to the latter half of July. Maybe he made an offhand comment and forgot about it. He can’t tame his thoughts enough to hone in on a single culprit except the terribly obvious signs he must have been putting up left and right. Wolfwood is still standing there besides, and Vash is too indisposed to make eye contact.

Such a simple gesture, uncomplicated by anything except the present.

The first beignet snatched off the basket of donuts is ripping hot, and Vash is glad for it. His eyes water for one reason or another. He hasn’t even thrown off the blanket yet.

 “Ish good,” Vash manages, woefully disfigured by puffed cheeks, powdered sugar, and squinted, watery eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A brutally stupid thing to say. They both know better. Vash rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand and finally sits up, allowing the tweedy blanket to pool at his sides.

“I haven’t aged a day since they put up those wanted posters, thank you very much.”

[angelictyphoon]

consider it a date.

@hopelantics

Vash finds himself easily distracted as of late. By little things, mostly. Wolfwood is no less brusque and no less impatient with the Humanoid Typhoon’s endless, self-sacrificing antics, but ever since they packed up and began the final leg of their journey amidst confessions and their usual blowouts, Wolfwood has been something of an open book.

If it had been anyone else, if it had been about anything else, Vash could have overlooked it. Unfortunately, they’ve been sheltering in place in a quiet little shanty house for the past two days and Vash suspects he’s slowly but surely losing the battle against every single microaffection that Nicholas D. Wolfwood inflicts upon his very willing person. Vash the Stampede is trapped by a perfect storm: savage winds and a tumultuous sand sea, a recent and mysterious Plant theft, and way too many Federals crawling the streets searching for the culprit. 

No escape routes. No place to divert his attention elsewhere. 

Nothing but plenty of time for himself to think the moment Wolfwood steps out the door to finish his survey of town. Leaning against the kitchenette counter on a flattened palm, Vash grips a fistful of his coat with a grimace when his mind wanders back to the way Nicholas looked at him from beneath the dark fringe of his bangs. 

Vash sweeps away a stack of dusty bowls, empty takeout boxes, napkins, and cups off the counter with a look of grim determination. They don’t have much in the way of ingredients and he can’t exactly walk out to the local grocer willy nilly (he promised, after all), so he has to make do with what they have.

Various cabinet doors creak open on their hinges as Vash goes hunting through the sun-bleached kitchen. He recovers a couple packets of instant noodles, then moves onto the other shelves. Yeah. At least they’ve got that. He’s never seen Wolfwood turn down a hot bowl of noodles. 

By the time he's done rifling through the shelves and the dinky little refrigerator humming nervously in the corner, it looks like the storm raging outside paid them a visit.

Hands on his hips, Vash stands back and scans the scavenged ingredients laid out in a semi-circle in front of him from left to right. A jar of peanut butter recovered from the far corner of the top shelf, a few meager drops of lime concentrate out of a nuclear-green bottle, a dented, slightly oxidized bottle of hot sauce, a  single egg, freeze-dried ramen toppings…Now he just needs a pot and some boiling water. Vash brushes off the dust from his palms and hurriedly sets to work before Wolfwood returns.

[angelictyphoon]

.

[levikra]

angel