𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

Isola Affiliated Legato Bluesummers of Trigun Maximum || Luminous Subgiant || The Black Fens

[cerebralbleu]

Trigun Maximum's Problematic Blue Guy.™

Affiliated with Isola Radiale

Rank: Luminous Subgiant Housing: The Bluesummers Estate; The Black Fens

𝐀𝐏𝐏 // 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 // 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 // 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎

-slaps top of his head- This man can hold so much trauma.

Guy with psychosis and a killing drive.

Olympic Gold Medalist in ruining the vibe of the function according to Tumblr user amoirsetpacis.

He's got microscopic wires coming out of his brain.

And he uses them to grab people, possess 'em, twist 'em.

Think PUPPETEER! PSYCHOTIC PUPPETEER!

Blasting people with negative energy.

He also worships a blonde man that wanted to kill all of the humans. (Or USED to, Legato is still processing that.)

Sweet tooth. Open a dictionary, look up sweet tooth, Legato Bluesummers is the picture example.

Prefers easy-to-comprehend food. What does that mean?

What's the opposite of a yapper? Him. Dude is quiet. Dude is brooding.

The 80's goth scene could have saved him. He should've been at the club.

He killed the wrong Vash the Stampede recently.

Now he has a job, that's neat.

How come so many ladies love this guy???

Content Warning: Religious trauma, war trauma, sex trauma, discussion of death, murder, cults, post-apocalyptic themes, and the general ambiance of hope & despair. Reader discretion advised. Mun handles these topics with respect and discernment, and does not condone any of the destructive actions of this character.

Visit Original Link

[ripandcut]

✂ "Wait. All that water surrounding the island... You can swim in that? It isn't toxic or anything? I didn't even think about that until now..."

[cerebralbleu]

" It's not toxic, but, it's still very dangerous. Seeing that much water in one place was overwhelming for me when I first came here, and, the ocean is still something I don't jump into on my own. "

[madeupxmemory]

Namine flinches the second she sees the cornflowers bloom on Legato's arm. She shouldn't have gotten too close. Now he's infected, and she feels like it's her fault.

She hesitates and another flower sprouts as she stays quiet. "Are you sure?" The Nobody asks, keeping her head down now.

"Will it get worse?" Came the next question. "How much worse?" Chara had only told her so much about the flowers, at least that she can easily recall...

[cerebralbleu]

Legato cares very little about what becomes of him. Whatever plant growth was appearing on his body could be dealt with later; Spirale had its endless mysteries, and danger was around every corner. If this was a matter of life or death, he could handle the process. He was intimate with it.

But that didn't mean he had to allow Namine to experience the end result of this infestation, if it turned fatal.

" I do not know, " he admits, surveying the small blossoms. He carefully touches one, and narrows his eyes in observation.

" Some have shown more extreme prominence than others, " Legato explains.

" What I do know is that it worsens if you don't speak the truth. . . That is what I have heard. "

A pause.

" You must be carrying something within yourself, something you are shielding near and dear. "

Everyone had their secrets. But that did not mean they were willing to spill them.

[sinscythe]

Countless and countless of bodies had been buried under the desert of No Man's Land through his vengeful hand. Most of them insignificant. Every corpse that laid there had ended up in its final resting place because of his actions. The thought had passed by his mind once or twice since he'd woken up in this place, but it never stayed beyond its welcome. Knives could, most days, tolerate the concept of existing beside humans, but he couldn't find empathy within himself towards them.

That would be too much to ask.

He rarely visited memories. Many things were not worth remembering. His entire existence had been built upon making the world that had hurt him and his brethren into a place they could live in without fear. What happened in between was, ultimately, meaningless.

Knives remembers the battered boy who sat before him in the sand, so pitifully small and having suffered unimaginable pain and cruelty in the hands of his own kind. Not once after could he give himself a satisfactory explanation on why he took him along, nor why had he stopped to wait for the boy to catch up to him several times during the long walk across the desert.

He had made sure he lived through those first difficult years that followed. Then, he mauled him beyond recognition.

What he didn't remember was how tall the man had gotten since, not until he was standing just a few steps away from him.

He speaks like Knives is any stranger loitering in front of the door. He tilts his head, gaze drifting aside before giving the faintest scoff. His rigid posture eases, even if only slightly, shoulders lowering.

" I thought of you as an observant person, Bluesummers. "

[cerebralbleu]

Legato was running a to-do list through his mind as he fiddled with the keys to the store front. Equipment needed to be moved from the old location of his studio, so he would have to pay someone to transport it. He needed to contact the Fibonacci Power Company to get the electricity turned on. There were updates to his social media platforms that had to be posted.

Mundane tasks were what populated his days now. The life of thankless murder was behind the disciple.

Maybe that was why he did not recognize him.

The idea of that man being here simply did not mesh with his new life.

Millions Knives had a voice that could never be confused for another. It cut through everything, like everything else about him. Nothing mattered to the wicked angel. Everyone was destined for their blood to dress his blades.

And so when the stranger speaks, Legato freezes in place. The shake he was sipping from is grasped firmly, before he drops it.

Golden eyes slowly creep over, staring at the ghost of his master who stood on the sidewalk, observing him through strands of blue hair.

It was him--

Bold, and rotting.

" . . . Master Knives? Why are you here? "

His words lacked the reverence he once used. Instead, each syllable rattles out of Legato Bluesummers with confusion, with caution-- with anger.

So much anger, so much so that he didn't notice the way his teeth cut into the inside of his mouth. Looking at him made every single vertebra in his spine ache.

Why? Whywhywhy? Why now?

[blaedes]

" So you take the extra step to drench it in sugar, just to mask the actual taste of the flower? " teal eyes remain fixated on the candied petal on the counter, and he pokes it once, then twice. It feels hard, unlike the soft petals of the red geraniums of the past. Processed and shaped into a form that is pleasant for humans to ingest. Apparently.

" Isn't it the same to eat plain sugar out of the bag? " a moment of hesitation passes before he takes the petal again, nibbling on the edge. As expected, the sweetness is overwhelming.

[cerebralbleu]

" Eating plain sugar from the bag is like swallowing a mouthful of sand. That isn't nice, " Legato shakes his head, and continues to watch Knives. It was fascinating, in a way. He behaved so alien around food and other concepts that his master wasn't bothered by. The man he knew as Knives was not shy about preparing hot drinks, or sleeping when necessary.

This iteration of his master gawked at the entire concept of those behaviors. Anything that made him appear human was revolting.

He reaches over, taking one of the candied petals, and eats one.

" It's tastier like this. Plain hibiscus is better in tea. I've learned a lot about different foods in this city-- many that could never grow in the desert without intervention of Plant energy. "

Legato lids his eyes in thought.

" That isn't how anything works here, " he glances to the independent Plant bundled in the safety of his gate.

" I rarely meet someone who even knows what a Plant is. "

[madeupxmemory]

"Wouldn't... weed killer hurt you?" Comes the voice of the blonde right next to Legato's side.

There are forget-me-nots blooming in her hair. She doesn't stand any closer, in case he doesn't want to touch her or get infected. Namine stands there, wringing her hands, and biting her bottom lip. Another forget-me-not joins the crown in her hair.

[cerebralbleu]

" Ah? " Legato crooks his head downward.

" Namine. . . Your hair, " he reaches down with a cautious hand hovering over the forget-me-not; his fingers flinch back. Simply placing his hand in the presence of the flower was enough for blue cornflowers to bloom on his arm, a trail of them opening up bit by bit.

It may very well be too late for weedkiller.

The disciple narrows his eyes with confusion.

" I was afraid this would happen soon enough. Come. I should monitor you in case it gets worse. "

[zirconisblue]

eating his cake #hiscake

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; Legato's pleas don't fully register until they finally slow back down, Vash's chest heaving with the effort. The park is right there, although a different corner from that which he'd woken up from, and he desperately wants to go back to feel the cool grass soft under his fingers and the sunlight gentle on his skin. But taking a step out of this alley he'd ducked them both into, still holding onto Legato's hand even while doubled over and breathless, feels like shining a bright, flashing light on them both-- on their guilt.

That tranquility doesn't-- can't-- belong to them now. Can it?

Mangled corpse, disjointed and floating. Screaming engines burning up, disintegrating everything in their wake. The horrible, acrid scent of bodies burning.

A man, innocent, screaming.

Maybe it was never meant to belong to him. Tears, scared and overwhelmed, still sting his eyes anyway; wind-dried tracks would feel tacky against his cheeks, if he could feel them at all.

"What... was that?" he finally asks, voice small and watery. He's shaking, he realizes now.

But when he looks up, finally, still terrified and awed and feeling like he'll be sick despite the still-remaining nothingness in his gut, all Vash can see is the crumpled look on the other's face.

Everything loops back on itself. A child, scared or angry or not understanding, and someone else paying the price for it.

"I'm not--" a deep breath; shoulders shake and tremble. "I'm not going to tell on you." Even if he was, he wouldn't even know where to go, who to tell. He's just as scared of them as he is this waif of a boy in front of him.

"But you can't--." His voice cracks. Again, fresh tears fall hot down his cheeks. There are so many people here. And they shouldn't be. They should all be dead. The horror and the reality and the relief of it all feel white hot in his chest, in his nerves, as they all finally sink in. The nightmare back in the restaurant had sealed them there. He had watched them fall and burn from the heavens like shooting stars, humanity snuffed out instead of something to be wished on-- but here they all were. Not even a few feet away Vash can hear the quiet din, the voices of conversation and shoes against concrete and cars, something else he'd never once seen save for through a screen. Never mind his fear, still overwhelmingly present. They're here.

"You can't just-- just hurt someone only doing their job, just living." He'd seen the results already, a possible, horrible mirror the two of them should never have stumbled upon.

"You heard that lady," he grasps for, desperately. "Maybe someone would have helped us, if we'd just asked."

[cerebralbleu]

" People don't help me, " Legato rubs the corner of his eyes with a tattered sleeve to dry up the tears; no matter how grotesque his 'magic' was, no matter the nature of his neglect, he was still a young boy full of tears that a child like him was meant to shed. He is all hiccups and shaky breathes, snot and sniffles.

" People don't-- like-- me-- "

And I don't like them.

Once he felt the sensation of his heart all the way up to the back of his throat, lungs clamping and shriveled of air, Legato could allow his body to calm down. Like Vash, he was listening to the ambience of a city thrumming with life. A young husband grins ear to ear on the phone talking to his newly wed wife about a promotion at work. Two school girls argue at the bus stop. An elderly man hums, takes in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee on the cafe patio.

And a human boy seeks comfort from someone not human at all, yet he grasped the depth of mankind's emotions with such wholeness.

The song of humanity was disjointed and confusing, just like its namesake.

Finally, finally, Legato is able to take in a breathe that wasn't full of shakes like a failing car engine.

What was that? Vash had asked a question that went unanswered; amber eyes flicker back down to open, calloused hands. The tips of his fingers twitch and curl, small hooks prepared to reel in whatever they latched onto. They were not visible to the naked eye, but the boy could feel the thin wires twisting around his knuckles.

" I can make people do whatever I want with my secret magic, all I have to do is touch them with my threads, " Legato explains himself in that quiet, melodic voice of his, flexing his fingers one by one. He peers across the space between themselves, feet adjusting in the grass.

" You can feel them-- " he stretches his hand outward, just as he had done in the restaurant, but with a more conservative force. Tiny wires attached to Vash's arm, tugging at the muscles bit by bit. It would feel more akin to an involuntary twitch on the forearm.

" If I tug, your arm will come forward. If I twist, well. . . "

And just like that, the magic wears off as Legato releases Vash and tucks his hand against his chest, hidden beneath a tattered sleeve.

" I wouldn't do that to. . . You. No. "

[melancholic-whimsy]

in my enclosure . straight up gnawing at it . and by "it" i mean. haha. well let's justr say . the bars

[cerebralbleu]

@sinscythe

[cerebralbleu]

Having stepped out of town for a month on holiday, Legato returned just in time for a pesky crocus to encroach upon the city again. Scrunching his nose, the disciple frowns with disappointment.

" Too much trouble any time I try to mind my own business, " he huffs to himself.

" Better douse myself in weed killer and drink a bottle of it as well. "

[headlesshydra]

She smiles at how quickly he agrees, finally taking a proper seat in the chair while she cracked open the can of soda he'd given her. At the first sip, the chill hits her like a ton of bricks, to the point she brings her hand up to hug herself and rub at her arm for warmth.

A long beat of silence follows while she stares at the can in some disbelief- What the hell was in this?

It'd been two years since she last felt any measure of cold... She almost wanted to cry, but opted to downing the rest of the drink while he prepped the inks and equipment.

His musings about scars has her nodding a bit, pointing to a few other areas on her body as she replied. "I got plenty of stories, yeah. Like the one on my stomach I got from getting impaled on a dinosaur tooth." She nods, said in a way as if it was just a regular occurrence for her- Which it was, but she forgets herself. "This one on my cheek came from repeatedly crashing through glass and getting thrown out of windows and vehicles- Never did heal right..."

"And this one-" She finally indicates the one her right shoulder while she shrugs the blazer off and pulls that arm out of her shirt. "...Depends on if you want to listen to a sob story."

The suggestion of Lotus flowers had her perking up a bit, looking up at the ceiling in some thought as a small smile crossed her features. "From mud, bloom... I do like that idea, yeah, I like that a lot."

[cerebralbleu]

Helena's stories may be unusual to the average person that walked the streets of Spirale. To Legato, they were relatable; coming face to face with otherworldly forces, with monsters-- it was a lifestyle that he understood. Especially when the worst monsters were the ones that wore human skin.

He wouldn't consider himself an empathetic person. If anything, his relationship with his emotions and his feelings towards other humans was complicated. A lifetime of hating his own identity made it difficult to allow people to come closer.

But she points to her scars like portraits in a gallery, and Legato listens to her explanation of each and every one, taking the stories into consideration.

" You have been through a lot, " he murmurs, bringing his stylus to the screen of his tablet as he drew out a rough idea of what he was imagining.

" That gives me unique inspiration though. I. . . Have an easier time creating artwork for the suffering body, " Legato explains, " it makes for a better canvas. Skin that hasn't known strife doesn't offer my vision much support. "

Golden eyes flicker up, lingering on the arm. A hand reaches up, measuring the space between scar marks and skin that has known the depths of frigid water.

The touch lingers. He slowly pulls his hand away, feeling the cold of the lake within.

" If we are putting this on your arm, I would like to know what happened. "

[madeupxmemory]

Naminé immediately curls up a little more in her chair the minute her dad mentioned her hesitation. She's hiding behind her sketchbook when he peaks over at her - eyes a little wide in fear. Before he chuckles.

Then, the girl starts to uncurl a little. "You don't have to worry about that, dad." Naminé says, softly. "It's just math and physics, like always."

Naminé is packing up her bag as Legato locks his computer. At the mention of her helmet, Naminé nods. "Yes, dad. I always have it on me when it's nice." She's already retying her hair from a ponytail to a quick three-strand braid. It fit under her helmet better.

[cerebralbleu]

" Mh, nothing out of the ordinary, " Legato muses to himself.

" I'll take a look at it later. Maybe we can revisit the option of getting you a tutor, if you're struggling, " he says, walking at her side, watching the way she ties up her hair. He reaches down, moving a few stray strands.

After fostering Namine for so many years, Legato had a good idea of her habits-- her likes, her dislikes-- and her weaknesses. She was on the creative end of the spectrum, struggling with numbers. A well-rounded education was important though, and sometimes a little intervention was needed.

" Let's go then, " he quirks his lips up into a partial smile. Minutes later, they were in the parking lot, his helmet being strapped under his chin as he helped her onto the back of the motorcycle.

Spring was finally beginning to warm the city, and thank goodness for that; it meant that he could skip out on public transit for a while.

He was always very careful when riding with Namine on the bike. At every red light, Legato would turn his head, checking on her, assuring that she clung on.

And whenever they arrived to their destination, there was familial banter about how bad each others helmet hair was.

Parking in front of the cafe that they liked to frequent, Legato speaks up:

" Are you struggling in those subjects because of lack of interest, or understanding? "

[isolaradiale]

I will be out of the country for a while! So, I would like to request a semi hiatus for Legato Bluesummers from Trigun Maximum, Midvalley the Hornfreak from Trigun Stampede, Enjin from Gachiakuta and Zodyl Typhon from Gachiakuta. The date is 3/30/2026.

Safe travels! Your semi-hiatuses have been noted!

— * alkaphrah

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; As if by some twisted form of a miracle, no one pays any mind to the two odd little boys rooted in place in the middle of the newborn bedlam. At least, it feels that way; as Vash continues to heave, wide-eyed, on the floor, thoughts completely scrambled, he has no way of knowing whether it truly is one or not. All he can do, all he can look at, all he can think about, is the horrible, unnatural twist of the innocent man's arm.

The screaming's stopped, now. He's passed out. But the blood still roars in Vash's ears despite the relative, eerie quiet that's quickly settled over the place. It's terrifyingly still now, just as the man is. All those who fled screaming are gone; those few who remained to help all crowd around the man, any type of noise they could be making miniscule in comparison to the initial chaos that had bloomed all around them.

Another small blessing; there is no blood dripping down onto the tiles. Another man moves, and the mangled, discoloured appearance of that terible limb is hidden away.

It's still imprinted there, in the back of Vash's eyelids. His eyes sting. He doesn't want to blink, doesn't want even that split-second of darkness.

He thinks, once again, of mutilated remains suspended and floating for days so incomprehensible to a child.

Still, he wants his mother.

At first, Vash doesn't even realize Legato is speaking to him. He sits, still frozen, mouth agape, before his shaky gaze finally lifts upwards. Whatever hope and comradery that may have been there before is long gone, replaced by fear and confusion and hurt and, somewhere beneath all those, the anger that had lanced through him during the waking nightmare he'd woken up here from.

"Not-- not like that," he finally manages to gasp, voice small and wet and cracking around unshed tears. His head shakes frantically. "They don't get hurt-- not like that--"

"You two."

It's a gentle voice, kind but firm in the face of the tremble barely hidden within it. Vash whips around to it, and his stomach sinks somehow impossibly further.

They've been noticed.

"It's not safe for you to be here," the woman says. "And you shouldn't-- you shouldn't be seeing that." She sounds like she's trying just as hard as Vash is to not be sick. A confused but concerned look still manages to cross her face as she takes in the state of them both, how wildly different they've both been kept. "Where are your parents? Do you think they ran outside?"

It's instant; any of the terror still ice in Vash's veins at just what Legato had done is rendered null. All he can think to do in the face of such kindness is scramble to his feet, lace his own fingers around those which had so freely and easily painted such atrocity, and bolt at full speed back out the door with Legato in tow. That same worried voice calls out behind then, but Vash doesn't stop-- only continues to blindly sprint away, back the way they'd come.

[cerebralbleu]

Every living creature learned how to interact with the world in a different way. Be it through instinct or mimicked behavior, there was a guiding hand involved-- nature versus nurture could be part of the debate, but no matter if it was dog or man, their experiences dictated their choices.

Presented with the distraught boy on the ground, writhing in deep emotion and spilling it all out in the form of tears and a muffled wail, Legato does not know what to do. Biting at his thumb, staring with eyes agape, he considers what he should be expecting. When his handlers were upset when Legato's decisions, they brought a punishing hand upon the child's body, striking him with fists and sticks. He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines him diligently. But Vash had no love or hatred for Legato-- they did not know each other beyond an exchange of names and the similarity in their empty stomachs.

It is why Legato stands there in shock, apologetically mumbling. He dips his head and rounds his shoulders forward, as if he were a small animal protecting the most vulnerable parts of his belly. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Why are you crying? Why did that man matter to you so much? What do you want me to do instead?

There was no food to be had. Legato's stomach twists with anxiety the moment he hears a woman's voice speaking with them. He turns his head just enough to stare at the stranger as she addresses the two of them. Parents?

" I don't ha-- " Legato's answer is cut off abruptly as Vash leaps to his feet, grabs his spindly hand and pulls him out of the building. The two of them race off at such dizzying speed, the boy isn't able to see where they were going. How was Vash able to run so fast?!

" H-Hey! W-wait! Wait! " He stammers, stumbling on his feet as he runs as quickly as his feet could carry him. Legato was intimately familiar with running as fast as he could to avoid consequences, but never for too long of a distance.

It felt as though every pair of eyes were drilling into their skulls as the boys fled the scene. Legato's ears were ringing; nothing good ever came from running away. If someone discovered that he was the one who had manipulated the man behind the bar, Legato could only imagine what would happen to him, and where he would be sent off to.

They had to had sprinted two, three, four blocks away towards the park where they had first encountered one another. A flurry of blue hair blows into his face while he frantically tries to break the vice grip of his hand. Frustrated, confused tears sting the corners of his eyes as he once again fumbles while explaining himself.

" I won't do it again, I promise! D-Don't, don't tell anyone, okay, I won't-- " By then, his throat was scratchy from the panic, practically begging Vash to hear him out.

" I thought I was helping, I-- I swear-- I'm not-- "

Legato looks down at his hands, the thumbs red and raw from anxiously biting the skin. Threads prickle at the tips of his fingers like pinpricks; it was how he connected himself to the people surrounding him, so that he was never caught off guard. It was his magic, his safety blanket. It was the only reason he was still alive.

His bottom lip trembles, and Legato sniffles with defeat. People get hurt all the time-- but Vash, haunted and terrified, boldly claims that they didn't get hurt like that-- was Legato supposed to care?

He doesn't care. Why doesn't he care about the man he hurt?

But he does care that he upset Vash. After all, this was the first person to smile at Legato since Master Knives.

You aren't supposed to upset the ones who look at you like that.

[madeupxmemory]

Namine had found herself time to sketch as she sits in the extra chair while watching Legato work. She knows her dad is joking when he asks his question.

"It's no problem," she says not even looking up from the sketchbook in her lap. It really was no problem. She got quiet sketching time and more time spent with her dad.

Though, that still doesn't stop the slight drop in her heart when he mentions talking about her grades. Sure, hers were fine - she isn't failing like Shadow - but she still can't help feel the anxiety about it.

"Okay." She says, hiding a yawn behind her hand. She hopes she hid it well enough.

[cerebralbleu]

"You hesitated responding to that, should I be concerned?" Legato asks, typing away at his keyboard, perfectly capable of carrying a conversation while working.

"Maybe I need to arrange a parent-teacher conference? I'm sure your instructors won't miss a beat telling me about your assignments," he peaks over his shoulder, giving Namine a serious stare before chuckling quietly.

"Don't look so glum. If you're struggling with anything, I can help."

Thirty minutes pass, and Legato is finished with his work for the day. A few swift taps of his keyboard, and the computer is locked up.

"Now then. Do you have your helmet dear?" He asks, getting up and gesturing to his head. Of course, if they were going to go out together on such a nice spring day, Legato was going to take her on the motocycle.

[giumni]

i miss them

[thiefandlyre]

Octavo is looking at the following flyer someone has posted on all the doors.

"Anti-murder bake sale? Are they raising money to try and prevent murder? I'm not sure I understand."

[cerebralbleu]

Legato stares at the flyer for quite some time, not saying much, simply taking in the sight. And then he speaks up:

" Not sure either. That's one of the stranger fundraisers I've seen on campus. So long as the baked goods taste okay, they'll raise money for. . . Whatever this is supposed to do. "

A pause.

" Maybe this person thinks if we're all eating delicious food, we won't murder anybody. "