👀 If your powers cost you nothing, would you use them to fly?
"I've never thought about it before," he hums, chin in his palm. He had spent so long in fear of the powers lurking in his veins, feathers lying beneath his skin, destruction at his fingertips that had been forced out of him against his will, that when he'd finally had the agency and confidence to use them on his own even that had been shaky at best. That first time he'd used them against Knives the power imbalance had been staggering-- he remembers clearly just how clumsy of a tool they had been in comparison to his brother's razor sharp edges.
So when he and Wolfwood had made their grand escape, when they'd gone tumbling from the Ark and through that endless and yet so horribly finite abyss that separated the land from the sky, Vash had been forced to learn how to fly- and quickly at that. It hadn't been pretty, nowhere near graceful; his wings had flapped desperately against the wind, uncoordinated for so long until they just barely weren't, until he could keep his grip on Wolfwood's limp body and keep them from crashing into the ground.
The only other time he'd used them-- well. One had disintegrated almost immediately, and the rest of it he'd hardly been conscious for.
"I don't.... I don't think so," Vash finally replies, and despite the pause there is conviction in his voice. "I think I like my feet on the ground, for sure. I like knowin' that even if it's just my footprints, there's proof of somethin'." Even with the steady mastery of his feathers, the ground beneath his feet had been a constant reminder of just who he was. Of how even though he'd never be human, that didn't change how much they'd changed him. "If that makes any sense at all."
