#sinscythe

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; At first, Vash isn't sure what to make of it. The silence that has prevailed in the back of his mind for nearly a year is one that he's grown accustomed to-- one that he'd already known long before this island, radio silence he hadn't even known could be so pervasive until it was there, inescapable. An impassable wall where there had once been a window.

He's dreamed about it too; both nightmares that feel as though they will never truly go away, not in their entirety, as well as simple dreams. Ones that didn't leave him in a cold sweat. Ones, instead, where he simply got to see his brother again.

And they'd all felt so real. Enough so that on more than one occasion, he'd woken with the feeling still there in the back of his mind-- a cruel trick, to make him believe it still accessible.

So when that feeling persists, carries on throughout his waking hours as it does, a draft seeping in through an opening not quite there, the coward fears to reach for it. That in doing so, it would once again vanish, as though it had never been there at all.

But it does not wane, either. Vash's mind may make a habit of being just as stubborn as the rest of him, at times--- but this, he tentatively decides, is not that.

Then; fear, for another reason. Anxiety that his negligence might have wreaked something terrible in its wake.

Quietly, that warble of worry stamped flat as it an be in his own mind, finally, he does it.

Knives?

@sinscythe

[blankticket]

@sinscythe

Somewhere in Archimedes, there's a long-abandoned church surrounded by dirt and concrete and metal. Its current would-be trespasser, an outlaw on the loose, has just been caught red-handed before setting upon its deadened holy grounds.

It's been all too easy to get swept up and overwhelmed: by the world, by his memories—a crowded mind dulls normally keen senses.

Vash looks up and over his shoulder to see who's caught him by the forearm of his prosthetic. Eyes widen. The recognition is instant.

There's no hiding the goosebumps, the instinctual full-body shudder he makes in Knives' hold just after he speaks. It makes the brown paper bag he's holding in that hand shake, too—there's a little bit of weight to whatever he's holding in there.

[nomansjudge]

"Heyyy, you're here pretty late again, Mister." The voice comes from over to the student's left side. It's not hard to tell that this wasn't a normal person - the oppressive cold air around them is a clear giveaway - as they lean in to look at what's on the lab table.

"Whatcha doin'?"

@sinscythe ghost homie checkin' in

[isolaradiale]

hello! ended up not needing that reserve, here is millions knives from trigun maximum, application can be found under /app, thank you!

Welcome to chilly Isola Radiable, Millions Knives!

You will be staying in HOUSE 120.

You will retain your REGENERATION, and will be able to heal minor to moderate wounds.

You will also be given an apple.

Enjoy your stay!

⋆｡°✩ Segin

[amoirsetpacis]

@sinscythe from: [ x. ]

★ --;; Summer heat, though often paling in comparison to some of the days Vash has lived through, still has no less capacity for being oppressive-- especially when factoring in the humidity impossible to reproduce on the wasteland they'd come to inhabit.

It follows him in for the briefest of moments before the door is shut behind him, the reminder of home along with it. It's not even that out of place, seeing his brother in sweats even with the early morning heat already prickling along the skin of those who haven't adapted.

The coffee is taken as the olive branch it might possibly not even be. At the moment, it's what he has to work with, and it cuts through the density between them anyway, even if only so shallowly. With a soft smile the monstera gets placed on the kitchen counter, white pot and all; it has yet to grow anywhere near the size it might, if Knives actually takes care of it.

"Thanks," he says. In the scheme of things, it really hasn't been all that long since Vash has lived in one of these houses, though the novelty ( and, honestly, strangeness ) of having a home to return to every day still hasn't entirely worn off. It's not quite muscle memory, but it's relatively easy to figure out where the mugs are probably kept.

"I can walk you through it, if you'd like. They're pretty agreeable." And provide an anchor to hold on to for the moment, something to keep the conversation from floating off in directions unmanageable, at least for now. A mug finally does get found and pulled down from a cabinet, the coffee gets poured. Vaguely, Vash wonders if he should have to make contact with any unfortunate room mates.

Distantly, Vash has a concept of his brother owning- well. Things, in general. He'd had an entire ship at one point, for god's sake. But the concept still, somehow, feels as though it doesn't entirely mesh with reality. And the thought of Millions Knives going out by himself and purchasing not only coffee for the machine but also mugs, at a store, with people in it, is such a mundane thing that it's circled all the way back around to outlandishness, too much so to actually happen, and--

"Oh."

What could almost be better called akin to something like motor oil than coffee reaches Vash's lips and hits his taste buds and effectively derails any possible further attempts at his thoughts spiraling, as they are so often wont to do.

Instead, he almost visibly prickles all the way up his spine, simultaneously wilting him in the process until he's bent entirely at the waist, forehead against the cool countertop.

"Okay. Yeah," he rasps. "You weren't kidding." Vash has had some incredibly shitty coffee at some very questionable diners out in the wastes, but this one still ranks pretty high up on the list of them.

"D'you, um. Have any sugar, or anything? Milk?"

[theohunger]

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

x

Don't take him anywhere to eat in public. Zodyl detests waste in all forms, which includes food waste. He only keeps the precise amount of food that he knows he will consume. Spoilage doesn't prevent him from finishing that designated set amount of food though. Groundlings, the people who were born and raised in the abyssal dump of The Ground, tend to have stronger stomachs than their counterparts who live on the Sphere. Which means Zodyl is fine with eating spoiled food that most people would wince at and toss out. There really does not seem to be a limit to the spoilage either; if it's all he has, then it's going down the hatch. He has a taste for live food as well-- bugs, birds, he'll eat them whole or bit by bit while they're still squirming.

He collects televisions. He's able to use his ability as a Giver to turn televisions into surveillance tools. ( He can observe anybody looking at the television screens. ) But, that means it's not uncommon to see him spending a good amount of money on older TVs at thrift stores, or picking through landfills for ones that people may have tossed. If you put your old TV on the side of the street after upgrading, there's a good chance he'll show up and take it.

Zodyl rarely emotes. He's pretty consistently stoic, you'll rarely see him wearing anything on his face beyond a cold, distant stare. And he's awful at faking his emotions, which makes him a terrible liar. It's almost painfully awkward how BAD he is at putting on a fake smile or trying to emulate excitement.

Even though he is used to living in a world full of pollution and garbage, if you bring Zodyl into your space, he'll start organizing and going through all of your stuff. Clutter annoys him, and he is a little claustrophobic, so if you've made the unusual decision to invite him into your house, he's going to busy himself with managing the clutter. Excessive belongings in a living space is wasteful to him, and he'll probably ramble to you about how you should donate some of the extras, and if you refuse to do so, he will stare and ask that you explain why that item is important and how you utilize it. He's like a meaner Marie Kondo tbh.

He stares. At everything. And everyone. To a point where it gets uncomfortable and suffocating very quickly. That paired with his deadpan expression and flat voice makes him unnerving to be around for most people. He should probably go and get an autism diagnosis.

[kleinstar]

@sinscythe

The art room becomes cold during the night. They tell one of the windows won't stay close and that sometimes they can hear a sound of chalk going across the blackboard. After finding suspicious shapes there a word had been going around and along those flowers they left on the desk came couple of erotic magazines of gay variety--

" Hehe. Pretty wide array too... They know what I like huh. "

He makes a little sadder face than intended but then shakes his head glancing towards the stranger that has appeared by the door. He'd appeared so quietly that Eiden would have gotten a heartattack if he'd been able to.

" Whoaaa, tell me you're here will you? "

" You almost scared me back to being alive geez!!! "