Life is unkind. But then again, so are you. (18+)

isola radiale affiliated Nicholas D. Wolfwood from Trigun Stampede

[punishercross]

NICHOLAS D. WOLFWOOD (TRIGUN STAMPEDE) PERMANENT PLOTTER/AD

SO I've never actually written one of these before, but considering that I pretty much constantly have muse for this guy and always want new threads and am just insane about Trigun in general, let's actually make a permanent plotter.

In general, I take these as a "I can reach out to you, you can reach out to me" kinda thing, and assume that one of the categories below is something that piques your interest! Although I will say my DMs are always open, and I'm definitely approachable in the isola discord server.

General content warnings for this character include: child abuse, child experimentation, death, violence, smoking, alcohol, religious trauma, cults.

I read rules before I write starters, but I think that it's important to consider personal comfort with characters when discussing collaborative writing!

SHORT CHARACTER SUMMARY

Wolfwood can be a difficult person to get close to. While he's definitely one for joking and pulling the occasional con for shits and giggles, he's actually a deeply traumatized man who was trained as an assassin by an insane cult in exchange for the safety of other orphans. He's led an extremely violent life and doesn't shy away from it despite his own deep-seated desire for normalcy. While he's trying to play nice in Spirale, he absolutely will kill if it means preserving his own life. Wolfwood is a sheep in wolf's clothing.

GENERAL PLOTTING GUIDELINES

As a rule, I have zero issues with people recognizing Wolfwood from his previous work with Lionheart, because of the other Wolfwood, or because he's a guy with a big fucking cross and that's pretty memorable. I also don't mind you choosing whether or not he has the Punisher if starting the thread, because he's definitely a conversation piece! Unless in combat, the Punisher is wrapped up in cloth and belts, so unless you've seen him use it as a gun it just seems like a weird cross. Although to note that he's now been in a public exhibition match with the other Wolfwood(s) where these clowns were drinking their glowing Kool-Aid AND firing rockets and lasers at each other, so. There's that. Other notable points include that he usually wears sunglasses all the time, even indoors, and that his "uniform" has crosses embroidered into it. He, technically, is an ordained priest, but he'll refer to himself as an "undertaker". He also may con you out of money, because he's a holy man.

RELATIONSHIP GUIDELINES

Platonic

As stated before, Wolfwood can be an extremely difficult person to gain a deeper relationship with. He can be temperamental and is extremely closed off, his world views often differ from people around him given his general propensity for pessimism despite wanting for optimism. While he's trying to be on his best behavior in Spirale due to the influence of his partner, he's still definitely working a job that puts him in dangerous situations. When it comes down to it, he'll pull that trigger, regardless of how he may feel about it at the time. Despite how he can be in general, Wolfwood is particularly good with kids and teens, switching into "big brother" mode as needed. This is especially true in Spirale, as he views any kid being brought to Spirale as being displaced given the very nature of the island. Generally, friends, coworkers, and collaborators are welcome in this category! He's also not averse to found family, as he's an orphan himself.

Antagonistic

I would love for some antagonistic relationships, as I'm a particular fan of inflicting all sorts of trauma on my muses and I love fight threads. I mean, ahem, Wolfwood is actually kind of an easy person to have an antagonistic relationship with. Between his upbringing, his job here in Spirale, and his affinity for pushing people's buttons, it's not that hard for the undertaker to get on someone's bad side. Alternatively, as he's generally accepting of most walks of life, it can take more to provoke him than it typically takes for him to provoke others. Being on the other end of the Punisher isn't entirely a reason for him to hate someone, and a job's a job. He will, of course, defend himself, but as he has generally low self-esteem, he tends not to take much too personally, especially from strangers. After all, it's hard for people to mistreat him more than he already has been, and he has low expectations of most people he meets. Of course, he can be provoked if it involves people he deeply cares about, or if a kid is being treated poorly. He'll definitely sucker punch someone on a kid's behalf.

[inablinkgone]

‘Nico’?!

“You two know each other?! How’d—?! Mmph—!!” Till is promptly cut off by the taller man practically tackling him. To his credit, Till thinks that he takes it pretty well in stride. It’s not really the time to be asking those sorts of questions anyway.

“What’s a cult?” Seems like a somewhat more urgent question for him to ask instead, peeking over Hanabi’s shoulder at the red flyer. But Till can safely assume that they’re probably bad news. It’s hard to believe that they’d be good guys if they wanted to shoot Till and Hanabi for simply seeing them.

“Nu-uh!” Till immediately protests to Wolfwood’s plan, jabbing a finger at the bandages wrapped around his shoulder. “You’re already hurt! You take Hanabi and I’ll…”

Till slowly unholsters the gun under his jacket, keeping it carefully pointed towards the ground with his fingers off the trigger. He hopes that in the near darkness the other two can’t see the splint on his trigger finger, nor the way his hands shake. The footsteps are getting louder with every second—they’re running out of time.

“I’ll stay. I can hold ‘em off for a bit,” Till says with more confidence than he feels.

[hanabisays]

Oh, she feels her heart racing when Wolfwood mentions the past. HIS past. There's no time to think about the horror he had to face as a child. Right now, she needs to be in the presence!

"Till oppa is right," She says with a firm nod, "you're hurt and---Wait, NO. No one is leaving ANYONE behind!" She turns to face Till. When did he get a gun!?

"Nico, Till oppa....we're getting through this together. You said it yourself. They saw our faces. You really think they'll leave us be once they get through you?" She looks up at Wolfwood, bemused.

The footsteps are getting closer, and before the two guys can protest, she's already springing into action.

Back then, she felt that she couldn't do much for Little Nico, but this time...This time will be different.

She HURLS the motorcycle toward the enemies. This slows them down at least a little!

"We're in this together, whether we like it or not!"

@punishercross

Inablinkgone

[punishercross]

"You two..." He clenches his fists, but...

But...

If he doesn't get to where he needs to go, then he can't stop this. Even if they were to make a stand here, he doubts it'll stop. That's not how these things work, and it never has been.

Logically, he knows that, and yet...

And yet his thoughts are interrupted by the motorcycle being whipped at the enemies, a few gunshots in response, and then an explosion that blasts heat along the alleyways.

Between Hanabi's...supernatural powers, and Till's gun - well, they're more armed and capable than him at the moment. He can't help but bark a laugh at that, shaking his head. "Come here," grabbing Till's hand, he bends the splint to give it some give, the metal allowing the knuckle to curve. "Keep your finger off the trigger unless ya need it, look at me," he takes two of his own fingers, patting over his heart, "Go for the chest. It at least slows them down and it's a bigger target. If ya don't get the heart, lungs are much bigger. Don't bother goin' for limbs, they'll run on 'em until they heal."

He hates it, that feeling of helplessness, and turns to Hanabi. "There are loose barrels all over this place, use 'em. Stay low an' out of sight, both of you." Maybe he should've never tried to make a plan.

Who was he to argue with the guy with the gun and the girl who just threw his motorcycle? They could tear him apart on the spot, same as the shadows clawing their way toward him.

But more than that...

"Okay." He swallows his pride, turning to start running the way he was going. Looking back over his shoulder, he fully turns around, his brow furrowed, concern written on his unconcealed eyes.

"You two had better not die! And if you do, I'll kick yer asses!" And with that, he runs into the night, and towards his fate.

@inablinkgone & @hanabisays

[inablinkgone]

“Fuck you!” Till immediately fires back without thinking. In his defense, he was pretty stressed.

Cheering up Hanabi by getting her out of the house for some loud music and dancing with people around her own age had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the last thing Till had been expecting was for the two of them to almost get run over. And by someone he knew, no less.

“Who the fuck drives like that, Wolfwood?! There’d better be a damn good reason you—”

The gunshots ring loud in Till’s ears and even more thunderous in his head. Moving instinctively, he grabs Hanabi by the back of her shirt, hauling her behind the wall and out of immediate danger. Unfortunately, there’s little he can do for Wolfwood, being farther away and sitting atop his bike, except apologize.

“Oh, shit— I’m sorry, man— I-I didn’t know—” Till tries to peek around the wall into the alleyway, but pulls his head back as a bullet hits unnervingly close, taking a chip out of the brickwork.

He did bring his pistol with him, holstered under his arm, but even with the guidance of the helpful man he’d met at the gun range, Till only had the barest amount of practice with it. Not only is he reluctant to use it against other people, but he’s not convinced he’ll help more than he’ll hurt.

“W-what are they tryin’ t’ kill ya for?!”

@hanabisays -> @ punishercross

[hanabisays]

When was the last time she went to a concert? It had to have been with Sora and Yeongmin. Back then, she remembered XELL playing, and she remembered crying her heart out because XELL was playing live, and it had been her dream to watch them.

This was no XELL, but the music and song were nice. She's happy that Till brought her out here to cheer her up.

She's been dancing and hopping, singing along to the songs that played---THAT IS UNTIL---!!!!

"Nico!?" Why was he driving like a maniac!?

The question is almost answered just as quickly when Wolfwood tells them they have to get out of here, and it is followed by gunshots! Hanabi flinches, but Till moves quickly, hiding them both behind the wall.

"Gah! Did you piss someone off?"

This was not how she thought their night would go! She thought Wolfwood was busy!!

@punishercross

@inablinkgone

[punishercross]

"Yeah, yeah, apologies can fuck right off-" He drops the bike, pissed off he can't pick it up and throw it, and bodily run into Till and drags him and Hanabi further around the corner. "Not a lot of time to explain, so just listen-"

The first thing he wants to quip about is how it's a small island and wow two of his very few frie- close personal acquaintances! - know each other but the gunshots slowly coming down the alleyway are coming far too quickly for him to make any other quips.

"Look, I was in a cult, sometimes the island likes t' fuck with us, like that time with Hanabi and goin' to Japan," he doesn't bring up her mother, but he adds, "Or, that time you met 'little me', Hanabi," both of which are relevant, as he's putting two and two together. Reaching into his pocket, his uncrumples a red flyer, the same that Hanabi would recognize.

About to open his mouth and explain further, he hears the gunfire stop, which meant they would be rounding the corner, soon. Folding the red flyer back up, he tucks it into his pocket. The dried blood that had soaked his shirt feeling like a reflection of that red. Still, he grasps them both by the shoulder, voice low:

"Never mind. You two need to get outta here. They saw your faces, but I can lure them away. We just gotta be on the same page."

@inablinkgone > hanabisays

[punishercross]

Barrelling further into the city, his motorcycle was less likely to cut through silence, as even this late at night there tended to be life pilling up around him. Disconcerted, he cuts into back streets, trying to stay on the edges of whatever nightlife there is. It's causing enough of a stir - as much as anyone tearing through full throttle on a motorcycle would - that he's hoping people know well enough to stay away from the living mass of shadows stalking him across the island.

Until he almost runs over two idiots who he's pretty sure won't be staying away.

Seems like some factory gig was getting out - and he should've thought of it, he turned down the job just tonight. Must've been why the factory district was on his mind. He comes to a loud stop, tires skidding as he pulls the bike around so that the sides of the tires just barely run over the duo.

"Fuck-"

"You two need to go. Now." As though summoned by his warning, the shadows behind him seem to come alive, gunfire erupting from the alleyway.

@inablinkgone & @hanabisays

[scholarking]

WHILE WOLFWOOD SPEAKS TO HIM OF THE ISSUE, hands are adept in all that they do, swift despite the delicacy which he tends to the wounds. it would be an obvious assumption that he had done this far too many a time, likely under less favorable circumstances, even in comparison to this. ❝ As it is obvious you have not turned into some monstrosity nor does your brain seem to have vacated your skull, I can only presume this has something to do with that cult you spoke of, ❞ he replies, more so confident in his assessment in both body and predicament as he injects a numbing agent into the shoulder of his patient, not unless there has been more which was hidden, a possibility not lost on him.

❝ Regeneration? Not unheard of. For most. ❞ mainly normal humans, that was, though there had been cases enough to have traversed between planets that it was not unfamiliar. ❝ One must do what it is they can to tend to themselves, as would any other on the brink. Even in the most dire of situations... ❞ and as if to accentuate that point, ratio is swift in the way one bullet falls promptly from a wound, clinking to the desk with the light spatter of blood. nor does he hesitate further, the second now being worked on, following thereafter.

now would come the sting of disinfectant. were the other to complain, well... in this case, it would fall on deaf ears given his insistence on time.

❝ Whatever comes of it will be dealt with. Don't concern yourself with me. The fact alone you trust me enough to... ❞ he trails off, a gentle noise of effort escaping him as he tightens the bandage now, sterilized gauze having been stuffed with precision. ❝ ... regardless, you'll be finished here soon enough. ❞ he steps back, gloves now being removed and discarded on some clothe to be disposed of properly later. retrieving two bottles next, he hands it over to his friend. ❝ The first is a pain reliever. If it becomes unbearable, take it, but don't overuse it. The second will help keep feeling in your arm. I doubt you can have bedrest at the moment. So... take it whenever the feeling begins to fade again as needed. ❞

❝ And do remember that if your symptoms persist, the doctor will be on call for you or to get in touch with any emergency contacts. ❞ were he to find a way to do so... until then, the most he can offer is a little medical assistance and, perhaps, a message to be relayed.

[punishercross]

"Somethin' like that. I've got an idea on where I'm supposed to be goin', but it feels more like the island listenin' to me talkin' 'bout my life." He doesn't complain, he's dealt with much worse that he barely has any reaction to the treatment. Ratio doesn't seem surprised at any of these admissions, which surprises Wolfwood. Maybe he shouldn't have been, given he'd been more than willing to accept whatever Wolfwood had mentioned before.

It makes him feel worse, even the moment where the doctor trails off, but he snorts anyway, trying to lighten the mood. No point in being dour now when he knows he's about to walk straight into hell. "Yeah, 'course I trust you. Which I can't decide if that ain't sayin' much, or it's sayin' a lot. Either way, yer the only 'doc' I know."

The wounds are plugged, and his arm is wrapped tight enough to stabilize. Buttoning his shirt back up, he wriggles his fingers, the feeling back in them for now. Taking the meds, he can't help but shake his head, "Funny, I think this is the first time someone's actually given me real meds, and not just poison." He pops a few pain killers in to stave off whatever comes when the shock wears off, and pockets the rest.

"Thanks doc. I ain't got my phone, so if some blonde idiot comes knockin', tell him I'm going right to the city center." He feels drawn there, and the crumpled red paper he's been ignoring in his pocket feels hot, a beacon of some kind.

He knows what's going on here. He chuckles half-heartedly. "Bet he already has a feelin' any-" he's cut off when he hears footfalls on he roof. They're quiet, almost imperceptible.

"That's my cue, Doc. Don't do nothin' stupid, an' don't die." Pulling out the keys to the bike, he opens the door, turning back to yell over his shoulder, "After this, I'm gonna be takin' classes, ya hear?" And with that he takes off down the hall into the night, soon after his exit, the motorcycle roars to life, and he quickly leaves campus, tires screeching and the smell of burnt rubber wafting into the night.

[scholarking]

THE CALL OF A FAMILIAR TITLE COMES TO HIM, much as any other time, if but shortened to something more simplistic. only it was not the word itself that draws his attention, rather the way a voice he knows sounds immediately upon entering his office. no lecture dare leave his lips, a scarcity that many might gawk at, not without proper reason or comprehension as to what had transpired. especially not with the most recent conversation they had within the last few months of seeing one another.

instead, the scholar is swift to note the posture wolfwood holds, gaze drawn from where he clutches his arm, crimson actively soaking slowly throughout the shirt where the enter wounds are most prominent. ratio hardly hesitates, walking over with a change of expression most rarely get to see.

❝ Care to explain? ❞ again, he hardly chides the other, gesturing for the priest to take a seat on the desk. returning back, it isn't difficult to miss the way he retrieves what seems a rather hefty medical kit, personalized for situations as these. ❝ Sit. This may be crude given the setting and circumstances, but it will have to do, ❞ he orders, never intending to take no for an answer in this moment. with gloves slipped on, he peels the bloodied shirt away from the wound, careful yet precise despite any pain, while moving to press a clean gauze to it to stem the flow of blood before he can truly get to work.

[punishercross]

"If I say 'no' are ya gonna keep the bullets in me?" He snorts, sitting on the desk. He imagines that given the fact that the doctor's taking out a first aid kit, he's not getting kicked out any time soon. Which is...

Good, because his fingers are going numb, and he's already lost a lot of strength. He doesn't hiss when the gauze is placed on his wounds, and wonders what the doctor thinks of knowing his past while finding him mostly unscarred.

Before Ratio can ask him again, he starts to respond, "Old troubles came knockin', but in that fun way the island likes to do it. It's bigger and badder, an' a whole lot meaner." He looks at the wounds, shaking his head, "An', well, normally wounds like this don't bleed very long, not for me. I heal - and if I don't heal fast enough, I've got some vials that, ah..." He trails off, "Been tryin' not to lean on, but that had to come to an end sooner or later, yeah?" He's rambling, being open in a way he rarely is.

Mostly because he's pretty sure he knows where he's headed.

"All that to say, that, after this, I need to keep goin'." He tries to wiggle his fingers, still feeling the tingling sensation. "They'll catch up soon, and I'd rather 'em not blow this place apart lookin' for me. I'd've not come but..."

He looks exhausted.

"Need my hand to be workin'. The rest's just flesh wounds, doc."

[punishercross]

He burst through the Mistwood, familiar with the paths due to his usual treks using a motorcycle. By sights familiar and unfamiliar in the dead of night, to sites where he'd helped and been helped before, he burst through the bush.

The positive of this strategy was that he knew these paths significantly better than the ones hunting him down. The negative? Well, there's not much more obvious than a motorcycle driving through a forest. Which made his direction known at any given time.

He bites his tongue when two bullets find home, both in his shoulder. Feeling his arm start to tingle, he speeds up, working to lose a tail as he makes it closer to the island center...

...

"Doc?" He hates how pathetic his voice sounds as he makes his way into the man's office. The only 'doctor' he knows, and he never thought to ask if the guy was a medical doctor. And as silly as it seems, he hates being seen like this. No sunglasses to protect his own gaze, and ho suit jacket - no uniform to hide the blood from his wounds.

Instead, he holds his arm close, feeling it starting to go numb from the bullets lodged in his shoulder, his grey shirt slick wet with blood from open wounds.

"I woulda called first, but, ah, ain't got a phone."

The night air is ominously quiet. For a moment.

@scholarking

[nomansjudge]

Zazie's attention is immediately taken away from trying to figure out how to get out of this predicament. Wolfwood makes his deal, and the Worm is all too aware that time is precious.

So is their safety. While the idea of leaving Wolfwood to deal with this on his own feels less than stellar, Zazie is very painfully aware of their limitations.

The Worm doesn't hesitate. They take Wolfwood's hand. "Deal, but you come back in mostly one piece." The Worm says. "Or else how is that stash getting refilled?"

[punishercross]

"Right, good." He firmly shakes their hand, and then moves to ruffle their hair like he did the time they were pretending to be some lost orphan. In a way, he thinks, they are right now. Isolated from their family, from Noman's Land itself.

"I'll be back, no promise on the number of pieces." Setting that deal in stone, he takes a moment, listens for what little he can hear of footfall on sand, and then runs out from behind the Beast's nest.

The effect is instantaneous, gunfire hailing on his heels. Luckily nothing makes direct contact, only grazing him so far. He kicks the stand up with his heel, the sound of metal on metal comforting right now.

Luckily the bike starts right up - Vash's bike, not the Starbike - and the headlights illuminate the shadows gathering in front of him.

He snorts, thinking back to some scripture of shadow and light, and then the engine roars to life, cutting through the dead of night and the gunfire as he takes off across the dunes, heading toward the Mistwood.

The shadows follow him en masse, ants crawling from their hill to get an intruder. And the desert will soon go back to the calm it was before the storm.

[nomansjudge]

They were having a peaceful, warm nap in the sand. The buzzing of technology only was located to the Home ship and shed nearby.

But it seems fate decided that Zazie isn’t allowed any more peace. Bullets hit the sand dune they had nestled into, and the Bug is quick to scuttle out of the way - right into Wolfwood’s path.

They let him have his bewilderment. “I was,” they snark back, already pressed down as flat as they can. “I can’t do shit to help,” Zazie points out. “Or else, I’d offer something. Who’d you piss off?”

[punishercross]

He knew that Zazie coudn't offer much. They were still relatively new here, so they wouldn't have anywhere near their level of abilities back on Noman's Land. Worse off than him, he thinksagain, to be cut off in that way.

And now that he'd run into their nest, they were in danger, too.

"Yeah, alright. Didn't piss anyone off, but," he can hear them getting closer, and he's starting to figure out what's going on. "At least not this kinda pissed off. Listen,"

Best way to deal with Zazie the Beast? Make a deal with them.

"I'm gonna run over to where the bikes're parked an' distract 'em, and yer gonna run over to the ship. Tell needle-noggin' there's some island shit goin' on," that's gotta be it. He can only hope. "An' that I'm takin' the good bike into the Mistwood to draw 'em out of Umber. You do all that for me, and you can have my candy stash. Cabinet above the fridge. Deal?" He holds out his hand, hoping this is enough to get the Beast to do this favor for him.

(And get them outta the line of fire.)

[punishercross]

He sprints for cover the moment he can, ducking out of sight and behind the shed. The shed which, of course, won't be able to hold out that long. Sand isn't much better, but if he can make it to cover while staying out of sight, then he can possible get to a place where he can...

Figure out what to do next. He's not armed, and he's not sure he'd be able to make it back into Home to grab the Punisher. He's not sure that he'd be able to...

No, not gonna worry about that now.

Instead he dives for a nearby sand dune, only to find-

"Zazie!?" Any nickname he could've used left his mind as he blew his cover with his surprise. "Shit-" Diving down, he gestures to the worm,

"Are you sleeping here?" Why not come inside!? Or at least use the shed. But, no time for that as bullets fly through the sand around them. "Fuck, no time for that, we need to, ah, shit, do something-"

@nomansjudge

[punishercross]

It calmed him, farming. It was a distraction. It was labor, it was feeling his muscles knit themselves as he worked them in a way he hadn't been trained but in the way he wanted to. In the way he wished he could be. In the way he wished he could stay.

He always knew, deep down, that he really couldn't stay this way. Not forever. This domesticity has already ended, in a way. In one way - in their home being changed by the departure of Vash's memories. The presence of a new Vash, the same, but different.

They'll change each other. Not only in the arguments that come with love, with life, but the ones that will truly define each of them. The way he will change Vash. The way Vash changes him.

A mixture of black and blue and a sunspot that the both of them tried hard to cultivate in the other but hide in themselves, from themselves. Two people who have had to to flay themselves bare and yet keep themselves tucked away. Hidden, keeping raw skin from meeting oxygen.

He smokes under the early summer moon, the desert air chillier than the city. He doesn't mind it, the way his skin prickles and and his hairs stand on end-

No.

That's not the cold.

A gunshot rings out, the sound making it to him as it whips by his head, clipping his ear.

And it doesn't heal.

It's slow, he knows, but it doesn't heal. It doesn't heal.

He turns around, and in the moonlight, his breath fogging around him as it loses heat, as a chill moves up his scarred spine and his body runs cold.

A veritable army stands up on the dune nearby Home.

And at the stroke of midnight, the air erupts in gunfire.

Things will likely move quickly, so make sure you get everything you want in a handful of replies! I'll make starters and add onto the thread as we go. Order for threads is:

@nomansjudge

@scholarking

@inablinkgone & @hanabisays

@burytone

@kyouufu

@blankticket

[inablinkgone]

Being around idols, Till is pretty used to people performing aegyo, but rarely is it directed at him. His face flushes when the dark-haired man winks at him, and even though he’d hardly felt affected before, his tongue suddenly seems tied.

“S-s-self d-destructive like… f-fighting?” Till… hadn’t really thought about it that way. Sure, Ivan would always tell him that fighting back only hurt Till in the end, but he hadn’t thought about how it might be… unhealthy. In this world where violence isn’t a necessary part of life, he guesses that it would be seen more commonly as a pointless exercise in harmful behavior. It finally helps him understand where Ivan was coming from. He pauses to think for long enough that ash begins to fall off the end of his cigarette.

“I didn’t know you could get a job that involved fighting… This place… didn’t really seem violent enough to warrant keepin’ private security? N-not that I’m planning on startin’ a fight or anything! B-b-but… I guess when I do fight someone, it’s hardly planned— But I’m tryin’ my best n-not to—! …Th-that’s not sayin’ I’m constantly resisting the urge t’ fight— What I mean is—” Till clamps his mouth shut, his face hot. The more he tries to explain himself, the worse it seems to get.

[punishercross]

He pushes his sunglasses back up his nose, another loud laugh coming from him as the other guy seems to short-circuit. Usually he's the one being teased into being red-faced, so it's hard not to be amused finally being on the other end of it. "Plenty of jobs involve fightin'. I used to be doin' some more...formal shit, but now I just help out where I can. This case, it's making sure groupies don't get too heated, or people don't get in each other's faces cause they're too drunk."

He understands, though. Having to fight that urge ingrained inside of you, having a reaction you don't wanna have.

"Ain't always planned, that's for damn sure. I find two things help with that sorta thing."

"First - manual labor. Gets you all tired an' shit. An' I don't mean just workin' for some asshole - we've got animals. Cleanin' shit, repairin' fences, runnin' deliveries fer the neighbors. Second," he taps the wall with his knuckle. "This kinda shit. Helpin' out with this. Keeps ya on edge, an' when nothin' happens, then it's a relief. An' if somethin' happens...Different kinda relief, I guess."

[blankticket]

This Wolfwood allowed himself more vulnerability, yet he's not quite an open book, either. Laughter, relief, and honest gratitude become unexpected gifts. Vash beholds it all in silent surprise, lightly chewing on his lip in his own anxiety.

Sounds like proof his past self hadn't treated Wolfwood well. He was still responsible for those trespasses, even if he didn't remember them.

"Careful. Not sure I'm much better than him." He could at least give the undertaker that much of a warning. "Might even be worse, some ways."

A shake of the head. Better or worse, different or same, Vash doesn't want to waste any focus on solving what's become indefinitely uncertain.

"You've changed too, y'know? Or, rather, you're... different from how I've known you, too." Spirale was heavenly compared to Noman's Land. Being made to live with his past self on this lonely ship for those same years that their desert planet counterparts were separated... it's shaped much of who this Wolfwood's decided to be.

"What matters is what we do in the here n'now. We can't take our time for granted. My past self thought so too, even though he'd made mistakes believing it—hurt himself, hurt others, hurt you for it. And I'm sorry about that."

[punishercross]

He rolls his head on the back of the couch looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes, listening. Of course, they're different, but still the same with the warnings. He snorts, listening to the Stampede talk about how he's changed, different.

Finally, he speaks, "I wanna clarify," he pauses, finding his words, "That I don't regret a single moment with your past self." Turning back, his expression is gentle, "Good and bad, I'll take it all. I hope I don't forget it, when I remember what you and I went through. Got it?" Not that he'd trade one for the other, knowledge for growth. If anything...

"That's a scary thought. But that's exactly right. It's what we do for now, and...we can worry about tomorrow tomorrow." He thinks back to his conversation with Midvalley, having to talk him down from attacking people he wouldn't mind taking out. Not just for the Hornfreak's safety - something he'd never considered before this - but because it's...

Something that scared him, still scares him. And something he doesn't want to do. Not behind everyone's back, not falling back into old bad habits.

"Whatever happens, I can't regret the time I spent here."

[scholarking]

LISTENING IS SOMETHING RATIO IS RELATIVELY GOOD AT. patience is a finite source when it comes to the intricacies of humans, ratio just as fallible as any other man alive, never once believing himself above those around him beyond intelligence when it comes to those who refuse to relent their ignorance. and while there may be times he can degrade a man's self-worth with naught but his words alone given the proper reasoning, a case as this was hardly anything of the sort. were it anything, he merely finds disappointment that wolfwood has not mentioned this little concern sooner, if not having been blinded by enthusiasm.

one hand rests upon his hip as he observes the other in brief silence, all before speaking in turn. ❝ Tell me this, Wolfwood, ❞ he starts, voice flat, albeit earnest, in its tone. ❝ Do you think about murdering innocent people around you? Actively, that is. As in you would take joy and pleasure in it? ❞ each word is direct, tongue like a spear pointed directly at the position of his beating heart. there was not a thing to be withheld, especially for one to claim he was no good as a person, the confession enough for the scholar to presume there was some sense of awareness to his conscious to not have wished to say it before.

❝ Or perhaps it was a necessity where you once lived prior to this place? Something your circumstances you spoke of could not allow you to avoid until you were on its path with no way out? ❞ many had their reasoning for the things they have done, altering the trajectory of their lives with a permanence, as if it were some fleeting, falling star caught in a rogue planet's gravitational pull. one face comes to mind 一 a gambler formed beneath a pressure so extraordinarily heavy, there was no way he would come out as anything but what it all forcefully molded him to be.

this man would hardly be the only person in such a case, nor would he be the last.

❝ If you still don't wish to learn, I will not force you. ❞ as much as he would like to pave a path for the man to find a proper education, especially when this island has opened many a door for those who had no ample opportunity before, it would do more harm than good to go that route. ❝ There are plenty of paths one may take. Public teaching is but one. If your comfort is more of privacy, my services may still be of use to you as a tutor. So, the choice on the matter is yours. ❞

[punishercross]

"I...Well, shit, yeah." He scratches the back of his head, listening to the doctor chastise him over his own reasoning. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he shrugs in shame, feeling his ears heat up. "'Course it was just somethin' I had to do, but I don't want the consequences of that to get in anyone else's way." He tilts his head, trying to consider how to phrase this, "I do wanna learn, I wanna learn as much as I can. Like I said, I've never been to school, so..."

"I know that don't matter to ya, but havin' been an assassin for most'uh my life now, it sometimes feels like I can't shake that." He worries, even though he knows he wouldn't do anything himself, that there might come a time where he turned his back on that growth.

What if he lost his own memories? What if he turned into a monster? What he if lost himself.

"Look, if ya really ain't worried about that, I'll go. But..." he hesitates, "If there ever comes a time where ya gotta kick me out, if I lose my memories, or if some other shit from that fuckin' cult comes back to haunt me, you gotta protect yerself and the students, alright?"

[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 aching, deep 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]

He lets the Stampede finish talking, and his chest unclenches. The undertaker leans his head on the back of the couch, letting out a bark of a laugh. Months of stress feel like they start to leave his chest.

Not entirely, he knows that guilt can't just evaporate like that, but...

He closes his eyes, rubbing his face. "Jeez, you really are different. Same but," he lets his head roll on his shoulder, looking up at the Stampede, eyebrows relaxing, relief playing on his features. It's not complete, it's not whole, but it's enough for him allow himself to indulge, maybe a little.

Even if it's not sinful, he's still a sinner. But maybe that's alright.

"Fuckin' hell. I'm glad to hear that. The guy 'fore you, he...Well, not with me, but he definitely...You know, put his own feelin's aside, an'..." It did worry him, sometimes, deep down. But there was so much there that worried him, about himself, his own feelings. "I never wanted to hurt him like that - don't wanna hurt you like that."

He doesn't take another drink, instead indulging in the light feeling. "Didn't mean to get heavy, I jus' wanted to know, well, you know. Thank you." He chuckles, covering his face.

"Man, I'm pretty sure I've always been bad at flirtin'. This might prove it. Nail in the proverbial coffin."

[burytone]

His teeth practically bite through the filter of the cigarette. Maybe if he swallowed all of that nicotine down, it would mellow him out more thoroughly. Midvalley disliked the idea of chewing tobacco. Too many rugged types out in the isolated desert towns had their tongues and throats ruined by the stuff. Can't make a living off of ruling the soundwaves if his vocal cords were fried from a bad habit.

Smoking sure wasn't any better. But if the lung disease got him before the heat, or the wrath of God, Midvalley would consider that a good death.

" Then, we could deal with 'em. "

Not like he had the backbone to do it himself when Lord Knives was a pile of viscera in a tube of fluid.

Son of a bitch. Fuck is wrong with him?

" End it all while they're down on their luck, " the drag of warm tobacco hugs his insides like the love of an old mother.

" And you're sure there's no other back up? "

[punishercross]

"I hate to be the one to break it to ya," he rubs his temple, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out, metaphorically quashing the Hornfreak's hopes. "But they can't die here. Yer shit outta luck. They'll just be back, angrier, and stronger sooner rather than later."

That, and he wasn't entirely interested in starting that kind of shitshow. A war on this island is only gonna cause issues for everyone, involved or not.

"'Course that means we can't die either. Not to say that we can't be killed - 'cause we can. You feel it all, and you usually remember it, too." He shrugs, pulling out his lighter and fiddling with it. "Best we can do is try and keep it at a stalemate. Zazie's here, and we have a good workin' relationship and," a pause.

"I live with Vash the Stampede out in the desert, if ya need...Help? I guess? I don't fuckin' know. Don't come and cause issues though, or I'll kick yer ass off my property."

[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]

"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."