to the future —

LIVE  AND  SUFFER alone, no longer. vash the stampede ➠ isola radiale

[blankticket]

perma plotter call !!

❝ I won’t let a single life be taken. ❝ I’m going to protect everyone… Naï. ❞

Vash the Stampede // Trigun Stargaze

[ RULES ] 🎯 [ APP ] 🎯 [ STATS ]

The Humanoid Typhoon, the Plant thief outlaw infamous for turning the metropolis of JuLai into a crater amidst a long list of other diabolical sins, has returned to Noman’s Land Spirale after his two and a half years’ disappearance. To those who know him as Vash the Stampede, marksman nonpareil yet staunch pacifist, this image of a remorseless killer couldn’t be more at odds with his true nature. Softspoken and kindhearted, Vash has discovered a new faith to place in others; his cheery disposition has been tempered into more quiet resolve, but it burns no dimmer or weaker for it.

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[punishercross]

"Ain't that." He shakes his head quickly, "I mean, it's shit, that ain't the problem. I mean, I've drank swill 'fore, you know?" He clicks his tongue, hoping that he'd start getting accustomed to the taste.

"You like it?" He can't decided on how he feels about that revelation, but he does shift over, closing the gap between them on the couch. He doesn't want the Stampede to think it's a bad thing.

"It's more like. Fuck, I haven't known what to do since you got here." It's different, now. It's the same in a lot of ways, but different in so many ways as well.

It's tugging at his heart, it's keeping him steady. He's not sure which way he's going or not. He wants to say (he didn't like it much), but he holds his tongue. It's comforting, in one way, to know that they're different. And in another way, it's a dagger in his chest.

Instead, he lets his head lean on the back of the couch, looking up at the Stampede. He's way more assured, but it makes Nicholas feel unmoored in comparison.

"But if yer doin' the flirtin' first, I feel less shitty about it. Like I'm not forcing how I felt, or feel, on ya." He observes the Stampede for his reaction. "Is that...right? Is that fine? I don't know, been a long time since I went to confession."

[blankticket]

"Let's... Let's slow down, a little." Vash isn't liking what he's picking up from the undertaker's words. Was his past self the type to be more generous in exercising control, indulging in this more dependent, direct side of Wolfwood? He gets the sinking feeling he's unwittingly poured fuel on the fire, expressing his desire in such a forward way. It's clear Wolfwood's doing his best, managing all that guilt.

"I don't think you should leave that judgment to me, first off. Or that flirting's sinful." Vash keeps sitting where he is, neither retreating or making any move to touch Wolfwood. The other man closing the gap felt a bit forced, the way he seemed to try and wring courage out of himself with alcohol just now. "You ought to trust yourself more. Though I get that that's easy for me to say."

He tries a smile at that, but it doesn't hold up for long against deep, aching concern.

"But try if you can." Then he shakes his head. "You think I'd let you force how you feel on me? That I think it'd be okay if you hurt me, so long as it was you? One way or the other, that's not good for us."

[punishercross]

"Yer fuckin' killin' me here." Guilt blooms in his chest alongside some measure of hope. He grieves with one breath, and he inhales hope with the other. He's been good, he's behaved - he's done his best here. The alcohol on his breath is already subsiding, even, and he didn't go out of his way to look for a drunken confession.

So of course he takes the shot, quietly, intensely, wine being given at communion. The bullet hits home, and the alcohol burns down his throat. Done, he stares intently at the Stampede, brow furrowed.

Yeah, that was enough of an answer for him.

He's not sure what to do with that information, now that he has it. And he's not even sure the answer he wanted to hear, feeling far too many conflicting emotions.

Mourning with one inhale, moving forward with an exhale.

"Man," he says after a while, "Really should've gotten some better shit to drink for somethin' like this."

[blankticket]

"Hm? You're kidding." He still felt that way, even after taking it slower? Vash was hoping that it would've helped. "It's good. You really don't like it? 'S it the sweetness?"

He frowns, wanting to see Wolfwood relax a little after being given what he's asked. It must have been bothering him badly, to be settling for alcohol he doesn't like.

"Sorry, Wolfwood." There's that well-worn sheepish expression Vash is prone to make. "Was tryin' to help settle your nerves, honest."

[punishercross]

He wasn't planning to take the third shot, and then being intercepted made him almost get off the couch and leave all together. He grits his teeth, chewing on his lower lip. He completely played himself by taking the initiative, he shouldn't have said anything - especially when the Stampede decided to start teasing him immediately.

He's completely put himself in the losing situation (when wasn't he). And now it's do or die. And he promised not to die.

"I mean, what the hell man - you know well as I do it wasn't a dream, it was the Stars fuckin' with our heads. Not that I wouldn't-" Fuck. "That's besides the point, look, it's one of the only thing I can remember, and I just wanna know where we're at, and-"

He grimaces, begrudgingly admitting, very quietly under his breath:

"I mean I didn't not like it."

[blankticket]

No one would need a supernatural sense of hearing to catch that, not with how close Wolfwood's mouth is.

"Happy to hear that," he whispers back.

The teasing look in Vash's eyes gives way to a fond adoration, before he tilts his head to take his shot. Wolfwood deserves an answer.

His tongue swipes out to nab the rest of the Bride from his lips, the stolen drink simultaneously raised up in an ostensible offering to the other man. But Vash isn't letting go of the glass. Intent on tipping it all into Wolfwood's mouth himself, his expression stays as focused as he is when placing shots.

When the gunslinger pulls back to replace their glasses on the table, he also returns to where he was initially sitting, figuring that Wolfwood would want some space.

Vash is quiet, attentive to the undertaker's reaction; left to wonder if that's enough of an answer for him.

[punishercross]

"I asked- ugh you're impossible. I ain't gonna ask again. Or, whatever, I'm- look- do you even remember or are you jus' yankin' my chain?" He takes the second shot, but doesn't refill it right away.

"This stuff sucks, fuck. I should've gotten something better."

"Look, was 'Eriks' hittin' on me?! It's like, the only thing I can remember. Except for, ghost cats, and ghost Bluesummers?"

[blankticket]

"So, wait, you're saying... you dreamt about me," intentional pause, "Flirting with you—potentially—and this's been so heavy on your head, so important for you t'know to a certainty... that you're askin' me about it in the here n'now."

Being so hasty as to not even watch Vash take his first shot made more sense, then; it was more about giving himself the liquid courage to say this at all. It worked, at least!

"Meaning you've never dreamt about me doing that t'you before? Or maybe you've never dreamed about me, altogether." Was that a pout starting to show on Vash's face? He is starting to look a little put-out, even though he leans over to reach for the bottle.

Undrunk shot in his other hand, he refills Wolfwood's glass, setting the bottle down with a hum. When the undertaker would reach for it, Vash would intercept the move by stealing the other glass, momentarily preventing Wolfwood from taking his owed drink back.

"Did you like it?" That smile's back on his face. "Having him flirt with you?"

[punishercross]

He almost tosses his drink and quits this whole thing. Instead, he downs the entire shot glass, slamming it down on the table and pouring another shot. "Ugh, awful shit. I think I should be drunk before askin' this."

He's mortified, he's also not sure that the Stampede would have gotten drunk quick enough for him to not just chicken out. Exhaling, he turns, gaze intense.

"Yeah."

"Do it."

[blankticket]

Do what?

"Ball's in your court, then, isn't it?" This was fun, even if there was a bit of guilt in teasing Wolfwood so easily. Guy has been this easy to mess with, though. "If you wanna ask me something after all, I mean. Can't read your mind, Wolfwood."

[punishercross]

"Yep, uh, security guard?" He snorts, ignoring the comment on whether or not the Stampede bites, and trying not to make some snarky remark about it.

(Hold it together, Wolfwood.)

Picking up one of the shot glasses, he hands it to the Stampede, conspicuously avoiding eye contact, settling on his chest, and then tilting his head so he's looking fully away.

"Anyway. I'm pretty fuckin' sure you were hittin' on me. Which makes me offerin' you a drink ass-backwards, 'cause I'm pretty sure you owe me one for whatever the fuck was goin' on with those ghosts." Not that he wasn't as far as his hazy memories go, already dealing with that.

But he also had no idea any other way to bring this shit up.

[blankticket]

"Okay." Even without seeing him, Vash's said the lone word through an audible smile. He takes his sweet time eyeing his own drink, letting the word hang. Even in private, it's not like Wolfwood to be this direct, which was certainly adding to how obviously nervous he was acting. Poor guy.

"That's not a question, by the way," says Vash, once he thinks the undertaker's had enough silent mortification.

He keeps a careful, thoughtful tone; he wants to warn Wolfwood, not scare him. "Think you're supposed t'make sure I'm drunk before bringing this up. But if you wanna open up this can of Worms, that must mean you're ready for it. Are you?"

[punishercross]

"Nothin'. It's warm, the air conditionin' hasn't shit the bed on us yet this year, so," he shrugs, popping the shot glasses down, along with a familiar-looking bottle. "Unfortunately, this shit's all we got, but I figure that it ain't near as bad to drink if it's in good company."

That, and, well, if he's gonna stare may as well be close up.

"I've got a question fer ya, 'though it's probably just seemin' like some bullshit fer ya." He starts pouring the shots, the tips of his ears warm with embarrassment.

"You know that whole, uh, weird ass dream we had. 'Fore the bobbleheads showed up? It was like, some kinda, school shit?""

[blankticket]

"Aw. Try me. I don't bite." Vash glances over to watch Wolfwood pour, content to sit back and only take his glass whenever it's offered. Looked like they might need to let it breathe. The question that follows only adds to the sense of amusement he's feeling; it's a silly arrangement of words without the context.

He'd probably laugh, especially since ultimately the shared dream was harmless, if it didn't all but emphasize the Stars' abilities to enforce every and any impossible whim upon Spirale's reality.

"Mm-hm. Vaguely, but yeah." The undertaker's out of luck if the question involves any detail recall. "The one where I was Eriks, student for... something. You were there, too. What about it?"

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; A long inhale through the nose, equally as long on its way back out through the mouth, fingers wound together as arms stretch out along the table between them, breaks the length of silence in the wake of the younger Stampede's questioning of resolve. When he glances back up Vash's smile is easy, laced with every feeling that comes along with it; coloured glass melting and melding together rather than muddied river water.

"And here I thought you were gonna hit me with somethin' difficult."

"Y'know, Rem told me once that I was always too serious. N' maybe it's just time, or the food puttin' me in a better mood, but it feels like I oughta' pass it on t'you. That it'll make you an old man early, n' all."

Though they may clash, each colour still holds steady; remorse, mourning, acceptance, hope, understanding. They swirl there, distinguishable in their varying measures, no harsh, unnatural rigidity to be found attempting to block any of them out. Age settles into his eyes; but it's comfortable there, lacking the pull it usually carries around their corners.

"First of all-- I want them, yes." The loss still hurts; the knowledge of just where the two of them had stood, where they could have, still stings. The foot they'd been left on had been unwantedly unsure, and now there's no real way to ever make it entirely balanced. But this-- this closure, surely, in some way, has to sit somewhere aligned with that path. Another being-

"I didn't- don't- expect you t'think of me that way, either. Thing is, though, I don't need all that much time to waffle over my answer, regardless of whether or not you choose that 'clean slate'. It'd be a disservice to us both, I think, to just wipe my hands clean of it all. I've never once done that with anything, y'know. Well-- 'cept the once, but this 'Eriks' didn't manage to stick around all that long, anyhow."

[blankticket]

Ironically, the other Vash's sincerity is difficult to handle head-on. Some polished inner mirror has been pulled out from the future, and set out in front of him. It's nearly downright eerie to have another self treat Vash so generously, and without any sign of resentment, especially after his very existence has unrightfully replaced another self.

For both his past self and this future-alternate to look out for him, despite anticipating the grief he'd bring... Well, he's got much to learn, still—even with how old he already is.

"You really... feel that way, huh." His head's slowly bowed, as though rushing thoughts bear physical weight. Hands stay in his lap, knowing there's no warmth left to steal from the underside of the bowl in front of him. "Thank you. I just didn't want to let that chance for you to go without gettin' pointed out."

When he straightens up, Vash still looks unhappy and anxious, even if the other's words have helped to lighten his heart. No question the other Plant has meant every kind word, however hard it is to internalize, let alone accept. There's still an unease and doubt he holds closer to his heart, easy for the other to read, since it's been put to print for 152 years: how is it possible to move into the future when the past wounds so deeply?

"Lemme handle the bill?" he offers with a timid smile. "I think I'm headed off my own way after this, after all. You're good company, but I need to think on this without cheating off your paper, y'know?"

[punishercross]

If he's meant to die, then he can't decide if that's supposed to be happening now, and if it is, then he supposes he can die both happy and embarrassed.

Because he's trying to bring some drinks into the living room, but he can't stop staring. Christ on a motorcycle, he'd been intimate with the guy, and he's seen the scarring, but...

Phew.

Whatever the fuck had changed, either between them or for the Stampede himself, he was a lot more comfortable walking around shirtless. It's not the scarring - he knew about that a long time ago - it's...

Well, it'd been a while, and it was new, and-

He clears his throat, interrupting himself and getting the Stampede's attention, holding up shot glasses. "Booze?"

He's doing his fucking best here.

@blankticket

[blankticket]

An eyebrow raised; an impressed little hum, and: "Sure. What're you celebrating?"

It's a little nice to see Wolfwood squirm, so Vash decides not to reach his hand out to take a glass, though he's merciful enough to tilt his head toward the unoccupied part of the couch.

Alcohol was something Vash rarely indulged in. The offer coming from his rather skittish roommate makes it all the more intriguing, too.

The book he's reading can wait; paperback placed on the coffee table in front of him, the Stampede directs his curiosity right to the undertaker's giveaway eyes.

[mr-lightningbolt]

Raiden lifts his hand up from his sword and folds his arms casually. Their first meeting may have been tense, but he didn't hold anything against Vash for that. He was at least somewhat used to living here and, having done his best at initiating one or two new people to the island... well, he could appreciate now that it was a pretty difficult task. It was hard to blame the other man for the fact that he had been terrified and confused at the time.

He tilts his head at the question. "Nope. Never heard of them. At this point, I doubt that there's any transplants here from where I came from, other than me. So, no relation to anyone that you would know."

There's a touch of bitterness in his voice. He still has mixed feelings about being alone on Spirale. He's only human, he can hardly help feeling the pain of it-- even if he doesn't actually want anyone else dragged into this, especially not anyone he knows.

It does occur to him that he knows very little about Vash, including what his "world" was like. "So, what do you call the place you're from? Do you have countries, or what?"

[blankticket]

Easy enough to believe Raiden's lack of correlation to Rai-Dei; though the cyborg seemed like he could have been employed under Millions Knives, he's clearly not pretending to have any bit of familiarity to Vash regardless. He's got no reason to lie.

"Noman's Land. It's a desert planet." Vash repositions himself where he stands, then tilts his head. It's a gesture to indicate that he'd walk in the same direction Raiden was going, despite that being where he'd come from to begin with. "We have Cities, n'smaller towns besides. Pockets of people, n'hard living. Humanity's been scattered across, 150 years after the SEEDS fleet was rigged to—... To crash."

Something's wrong; the Stampede only notices after relaying the facts so truthfully. It was far more than he meant to say. And yet he can feel his tongue try to shape the rest: I was the one who crashed the ships.

Biting down on his tongue to wait out the truth, Vash grunts, visibly wincing, although the dense fog serves to obscure the subtleties of his body language. Something itches on his arm.

[merylderringer]

Meryl twists the fruit flower - a "daffodil" - the after the other world's Stampede had handed it over. She's still in awe that such an idea actually existed easily here!

Back home, this kind of thing would have been only for very rich people. Meryl's certain.

When Vash asks what's on her mind, the former insurance agent gives him a small smile. "Guess my glum mood can't escape you, too, huh?" She asks as she takes a bite of the pineapple part of her flower. She doesn't flinch or make a face, so it's safe to assume she's enjoying the fruit.

"Millie's gone, and I never got to see her."

[blankticket]

Meryl's throwaway punchline falls a bit flat on Vash, whose concern only grows that much more. He'd never want Meryl to feel like she has to hide that from others. His frown is serious, even though he's got a strawberry-shaped lump temporarily stored in a cheek.

"That's... Incredibly unlucky. Sorry about that, Meryl."

He pauses to chew, taking in Meryl's feelings. An irrational part of Vash wishes that placing any fault on himself could help the matter, that perhaps he'd taken up too much of Meryl's time, and besides, he could handle the blame, if it meant she'd feel better.

No: it's a mean twist of fate.

Sour. Vash swallows, then straightens up; with encouraging eyes, he's putting an effort in to gently extend his sympathies, without the cheeriness being contrived. "I wanna know, if you'll tell me more. What kindsa fun things would you want t'do together? She part of the Banana Split Enjoyers Club with you?"

[hollowfaith]

They were getting somewhere at least, even if the confusion had to grow. Aurelius permits himself to be studied as the blond puzzled him out. If there was anything like the old Stamps in this one, it was his readiness to accept his words at face-value. Not that Aurelius would maliciously mislead him—but it was pleasant, to be considered reliable on first impression.

"You trusted me, and so I repaid that trust in kind," he replies. "That is how our relationship has always worked—if not between mentor and client, then at least between angel and charge."

"I had the impression that you didn't wish to worry your companions, which is why you requested private sessions with me."

The same worry rears its head soon enough—he's been warned off, though with calmer caution than the anxious words of the Plant's previous self. Aurelius finds it gratifying that this part of Stamps has stayed consistent all along.

"As time changed you, so too has it shaped me. You cannot hurt me in any way that will last—and I have already lived past the worst. I am here because I admire your spirit, and because I'd rather hear from you how you are doing than from the moody replies of your well-intentioned friends and alternative selves."

[blankticket]

"Sorry to hear you've had to endure something like that." With a sigh, Vash rolls his left arm, easing the phantom ache at the shoulderblade. Tension starts to drain from his body; unconsciously familiarized, Vash automatically allows Aurelius' presence to be the anchoring force it is.

Yet there was something off about the other angel's words he couldn't quite place; the closest he could get to thinking was the concept of time being the only real agent of change, and irresistably so at that. Even then, wasn't there some degree of truth to that kind of thinking?

"I could see them being defensive of my past self," that much he'll allow freely. "Since replacing him, though, I doubt you'll get as much attitude anymore. So, there's that."

It's a surprise to imagine the lot of them as moody and willing to speak on his behalf. Had his past self ever asked for that from them? The Plant can't help but let out a lone, bitter laugh. He's not as sure his spirit is worth that much. Vash thinks to voice it, but decides against it in the end, having enough sense to know it'd be an insult to Aurelius' judgment.

"Thank you for coming to see me, then. And for having the patience you do." A sudden look of amusement, at odds with a darker weight hidden behind his glass-shielded eyes: "Between the two of us, you do fit the idea of an 'angel' way more than I could, anyway."

[charadrxxmxrr]

Chara, to their credit, doesn’t squirm or wince or shy away as Vash’s hands work as quickly as he can; they don’t feel discomfort with him, because they trusted him before.

He’s still Vash. He’s still their friend. Even if he can’t remember it, Chara’s Soul remembers.

“Oh.”

They pause, before turning their hands over; indeed, between the parts of their hands already carefully plastered in colorful bandaids, their palms had been scraped too. Wordlessly, Chara offers one hand to him first — keeping the other in their lap. A habit.

“It does not hurt,” they repeat, softer now.

[blankticket]

"I believe you." Adrenaline had a way of making even minor injuries temporarily numbed. Anti-bacterial spray was likely to sting, of course, but a child's pain tolerance wasn't something Vash considered up for anyone to judge anyway.

He's slower to treat this scrape, knowing well it requires more focused care than the one on their shin. It brings to mind the myriad times Brad had to tune his hand back to proper sync.

"Would you like for me to change these out?" The other bandages don't escape his attention. If Chara would lend their permission, Vash would remove and redress them with fresh supplies. He'd otherwise leave them be.

"And—sorry—but could I ask for your name?" He can't avoid talking about it forever, nor does he want to do that to Chara, to pretend he's who he used to be. "I'm not exactly the same 'Mister Vash' as before. It's been kinda confusing for me, too."

[hollowfaith]

Had time turned him calmer as well? Aurelius found himself missing some of the old hesitant, questioning energy he got from the Plant in the past. "Stamps" was still as easy to speak to as ever, but there was a level of formality now that came from being strangers all over again.

"Our encounters were sparser than I'd liked," Aurelius replies. "Though it was memory loss that brought you to seek me out, we focused on other topics during that session."

"You were concerned over your powers for a while—specifically, your mastery of them. I was to walk you through that under controlled circumstances...well, you seem to have moved beyond such concerns now."

He looks up with a curious smile.

"Years do change a soul, don't they?"

[blankticket]

Your powers—hearing that chills his blood all at once. Breath trapped in his chest, Vash searches the other's eyes for patterns that aren't there in the daylight. It's hardly a comfort. Someone else outside of his world and its mirror knew about his nature as a Plant? More than that, he knew how to guide him?

His last experience in the world he'd been taken from was the first use of that power since he'd taken away the metropolis of Lost JuLai. It wasn't a matter of going out of control; that "wing" had been forced out, twisting and undulating like the rest of his limbs. There was little resisting that mad puppeteer.

He's anxious to keep talking. It'd make the memory pass quicker.

"But you're not like me." Brows knit together. The Plant doesn't sense that the other man is anything like an Independent, despite his looks. "Wait. Why would I come to you, and not...?"

And not the other Vash? Was Aurelius even aware about this alternate self? Or had this mentoring relationship formed by the other Vash's suggestion? He's at a total loss.

"I... I'm still dangerous. Even if I've got a better handle on it now." Better to forgo any pretending that he's human, then, though it stings to admit it. Warning Aurelius properly took priority; it's by pure accident that it sounds anything like a threat. "What do I owe you, then?"

Perhaps he's come to collect.

[lostclematis]

@blankticket

𝄞 "Uh!?" Sua had spaced out in a location that clearly hadn't been ideal, because her arm had been grabbed and she had been pulled back into the sidewalk from the road she'd been standing on. Her self-preservation instincts weren't typical for a number of reasons. But in the first place she didn't have very much experience living outside of Anakt Garden.

She had assumed she had been standing somewhere safe. As a bike sped by, it became clear she had been standing in the bike lane.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to trouble you." She didn't even make eye contact when she turned to the man that had pulled her back. Encounters with strangers weren't a strong suit of hers. "Thank you, though." Mizi would have been upset if something had happened to her.

[blankticket]

"It's no trouble at all," Vash says, head politely dipping in acknowledgment, despite the obvious fact that the young woman wouldn't see the gesture. He pays a glance both ways, checking the lane; noting that the lone cyclist held a gap from the rest of their apparent team, Vash decides to gently nudge the other back a few steps, indicating the coming traffic with a point.

Stuck together for now, the Stampede pauses to adjust the hefty, cutesy-patterned sack of hog feed occupying his shoulder and prosthetic arm, worried eyes reading over Sua's body language.

She looked... out of it. Didn't feel right to leave her alone.

"You holding up alright, friend?

"Seem a little dazed, if you don't mind me saying."

[hollowfaith]

At the obvious confusion, Aurelius falls silent and thoughtful. Wolfwood (the junior) wasn't lying, at least.

"You really don't remember."

"I wonder if I'm partially at fault for not jogging your memories earlier."

He changes tactics and extends a gloved hand, offering it for a shake. They might as well start from the top.

"My name is Aurelius Vane-Tempest. We've met in the past on amicable terms, though that was some time ago. You may have heard of one Sanctus Clinic, in Golden Ward...?" he trails off for a reaction, then continues, "Your acquaintance Wolfwood mentioned you to me when I asked. I suppose I should belatedly congratulate you two on your...union?"

[blankticket]

"Vash the Stampede."

The handshake is returned when it's requested—firm, brief—before the Plant's own gloved hand returns to his side. The gesture allows him enough of a moment to absorb what's being said afterward, though he still needs some help to stitch the pieces together.

"Re-union?" Vash suggests, the implication momentarily sailing past his head. A glassy thumb comes up to thoughtfully scritch under the side of his chin. "He's the one who's spent years searching for me.

"Ah, but... Yes, I think I came across your card when I was going through my past self's belongings." He frowns. It's not easy for Vash to untangle this himself, let alone explain it to others. "From what I figured, it was less of a matter of 'remembering' n'more like a... Tag team, switching out with who you knew me as. But lately, I'm not so sure on that, either.

"I take it that my past self visited your Clinic for these memory problems, Aurelius?" It'd make sense.