The longest route, the highest sky
@typhoonvash
When the time came, Wolfwood had made his choice a long time ago. Long before the glass cracked between his teeth and serum flowed past his lips and down the column of his throat, long before angels concerned themselves with the affairs of men.
He never did go around fixing churches like they said, but…
He’d saved this one.
Hopeland was saved, even if he ended up needing a little help at the end. His mistake was not realizing he mattered. He could feel Vash attempting to quell that bottomless grief even if he could no longer feel the twin suns’ warmth on his skin. Shadows of fluttering confetti cut across his fading vision.
The bell tolls.
…
“Huh?”
The pearly white ceiling he opens his eyes to is not the confetti-dotted sky he remembers seeing last. He blinks rapidly, clearing the bleariness from his vision and the fog of sleep still clinging to him. A plethora of medical equipment encircles his bed like attending nurses.
Beep. Bu-beep. Beep, pip pip. Beep beep beep.
Reminds him of some old Earth pop song. How does it go again?
Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth?
There’s more to the chorus, but he can’t quite summon the energy to remember the words right now. Wolfwood sits up, grimacing as he overcomes the inertia of moving stiff muscles. Following the natural timeline of muscle regeneration, he must have been out for a good few weeks. Would make sense, considering…Looking around at the various screens and blinking lights crowding him in, both familiar and not, he surmises that he must be on Home ship.
Disappointment leaves a pit in his stomach. There isn’t a bed next to his. Hell, there doesn’t even seem to be a single window in the whole damn room. He can’t even tell what time of day it is.
“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, you’re awake.”
“Oh, fuck!”
The guardrail rattles when Wolfwood nearly throws himself against it. He heard the disembodied voice first, but it was the ghostly apparition that appeared afterward that set him off. Once he’s managed to swallow his heart from where it leapt into his throat, he recognizes the patient, downturned eyes and dark, short-cropped hair. The ghost looks like Luida, only way too young.
That’s the part that least concerns him. He’s seen and faced worse, and knowing space age technology is involved, there’s probably a reasonable explanation besides.
“Where’s–”
Ghost-Luida holds up a hand to stop him. “Vash is not here. I know you must have many questions, Nicholas, but please hold them for now. You’ve been asleep for a very, very long time and we have a great deal to discuss.”
With great effort, Wolfwood manages to keep his growing list of concerns locked away behind his teeth. Begrudgingly, he settles back into the sheets and folds his arms across his chest. The mere weight of them makes him grimace briefly. He distracts himself by rhythmically tapping his fingers against his bicep. A window to look out of would be nice to have right about now. “Alright.”
“Thank you. First, I want to make it clear to you that I am not Luida. I am merely an imaged clone, and thus act only as a reflection of the person from which I was created. We felt that it would be best that you were greeted with a familiar face.”
“Right. So, assumin’ I understood a word ya just said…”
Luida’s face falls eerily blank for a moment before she responds, “Apologies. Let me rephrase appropriately. I am merely a recreation of SEED Ship designation 0-3’s leader of approximately seven generations ago. Her experiences, her memories, her appearance, are used by me as a means to provide counsel to Ship 03’s leadership.”
The longer she talks, the harder it gets to ignore his own growing sense of apprehension. “The hell do ya mean, seven generations ago?!”
Blankness again. Not-Luida seems for a moment uncertain of how to handle his outburst.
“Perhaps I ought to start from the beginning.” She assesses him for a moment. “Do I have your word that I will be permitted to speak uninterrupted for fifteen minutes?”
While the obvious inclination written on Nicholas’s face is a ‘no,’ he eventually sighs and nods his assent.
“Fine, fine. Just tell me one thing before ya start– he’s still alive, right? Vash?”
“Yes. His story and yours are intertwined. He first brought you here nearly two centuries ago…”
