singillppl | October 2023 Test Drive Meme

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October 2023 Test Drive Meme

OCTOBER 2023 TDM

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A new group of arrivals find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.

PROMPT TWO — GUILTY PARTY: Interlopers are kidnapped and held captive by a being and forced to confess their wrong doings, or face fatal consequences.

PROMPT THREE — OFF THE BEATEN TRACK: Interlopers get more than they bargained for when a mysterious albeit friendly dog comes across them and persuades them to follow them into the wilds.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Mid-October.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.

'You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.'

It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.

You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.

You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.

You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.

Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilization...?

Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!

As you head into the outskirts and then further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.

The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.

“Ah, more of you have come.” he nods, just as he suspected you might. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”

The room is dim, lit only by natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful... and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.

There are canisters with hot herbal teas and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is troubled, thoughtful. The arrival of so many is not something that sits well with him. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search amongst the new faces.

He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.

GUILTY PARTY

WHEN: Over the next month.
WHERE: Paradise Farm Outbuildings.
CONTENT WARNINGS: forced imprisonment; forced honesty; supernatural beings; confessional themes; threat of death; possible character death; possible death by throat injury.

You don’t remember how you came to be here. The air is cold and damp, the rot of wood is strong, and… blood. Why does it smell of so much blood? You can’t seem to see all that much in the gloom, but you think you’re in some kind of outbuilding of sorts. You find yourself chained to a chair, the metal is heavy and cold against you and no matter whatever you seem to do, you can’t seem to free yourself from them. No struggling can ease their hold, and there’s no lock to unpick or break. They weigh you down in your seat, you can't even seem to tip yourself over.

But you’re not the only one here. Across from you in the dark is someone else. One of your fellow Interlopers is trapped here with you, too. They too don’t remember anything either, they’re equally as confused and uncertain as you. Perhaps frightened. Not only this, they’re also sat chained up just as tightly. You have a little time to talk before you realise the two of you aren’t alone.

There's a glooming green light, the feeling of a presence. A huge figure steps into view, cloaked in black. It’s hard to tell whether it’s a man or a woman, and it’s difficult to make out much detail of them. Their face is obscured by a stone mask in the shape of a monstrous, horned and fanged Jackal. Green light glows from behind it, foreboding in the dark. It will not answer you if you try to speak with it.

“WICKEDNESS LIES WITHIN YOU.” The voice is a fierce chorus of whispers, but yet so loud. It sends a shiver down your spine. “I HAVE SEEN IT.”

... You can’t help but know it to be true. Something inside you knows what they speak of is true. Any misdeed or wrongdoing done by your hand, any cruel word you spoke, any life you took or heart you broke. You feel exposed, seen. The figure knows what you have done.

“CONFESS.” the figure demands. “UNBURDEN YOUR HEART AND BE FREE. BE SILENT AND CARRY IT TO THE GRAVE.”

The figure holds an item in its hand, something that glints in the light that glows from its mask. Now you realise why there’s so much blood in the air: it’s a sickle, dripping with blood. You are not the first to be brought here. You will not be the last.

Speak, unburden yourself, and if the figure is satisfied — you will, in fact, go free. Refuse, or not take the demand seriously, and the figure will deem you unworthy. They will move within the blink of an eye, striking you with the sickle in the neck — let it be a mercy that they kill you quickly.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

WHEN: Over the next month.
WHERE: Milton / Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creature; trickster creature; themes of peril; possible character injury; possible dead body discoveries; potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk; possible character death.

The weather will continue to prove difficult for all who try to navigate this world, but with the current footfall in and around Milton, it’s at least helped to keep paths and roads somewhat clear despite the snow’s best efforts to cover up these walkways. Still, it’s a pain to get around, especially on particularly snowy days. Unfortunately, it’s sometimes necessary to go out on such days — survival doesn’t stop for the weather to pass.

And so journeys must be made, hunting must be done, forageables must be collected. You try to keep to the paths and trails, where the terrain yields before you for an easier journey.

… Until you hear barking through the trees, the sound of paws through the snow. Given the recent wolf activity of the last month, it’s understandable to be on edge. However, it isn’t a wolf that comes into view: it’s a large dog, bigger than any dog you’ve seen before. Coated in thick and shaggy black fur, this animal doesn’t seem to be like the wolves that have been found so far in this world. While the wildlife has certainly been altered, this dog remains very much like anyone would expect a dog to act in terms of behaviour. It’s playful with some, certainly friendly, constantly trying to play chase with you as it loops around in circles with a wagging tail.

However, there’s an insistence with this dog. It wants you to follow it. It will bark incessantly, trying to pull you from the path to go after it into the woods. It wants to show you something, take you somewhere. It will even try to gently pull at a coat-sleeve or trouser-leg to coax your forwards before heading off, keeping just in sight for you to go after it.

You’ll find it increasingly difficult to keep up, even if you pick up the pace as you head further into the woods. There’s less snow here, but the forest floor is filled with holes and tree roots that will trip you up. Falls are likely. But even worse is when before you know it, the ground simply gives way beneath you, sending you tumbling into a small valley or getting you stuck deep into soft, muddy earth. With it, perhaps, twisted ankles or worse. Or perhaps simply battered and bruised and unable to climb out of trench of earth. Maybe you come face to face with the body of some other poor Interloper who'd met their own end in similar manner — trapped and injured in the ditch.

Or worse still, the dog might just have you stumbling over a cliff face and tumbling into the Basin. Whatever fate befalls you, it’s as if the dog simply led you into it. And said dog, however, will be nowhere to be seen. It will have left you stuck, hurt, lost in the woods.

You’re sure you can hear some dark chuckling on the wind. Maybe it’s just the trees.

FAQs

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.

2. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.

3. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.

4. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.

5. More information about Milton can be found here.

GUILTY PARTY

1. Characters will find that once they have confessed, they will pass out. When they awaken, they will find themselves lying or sitting on the floor — the being, chairs and chains have gone. They are free to leave.

2. Attempts to search the outbuildings at later dates will prove fruitless. There is no sign of the being, nor the chairs or chains that held characters, but there will be blood on the floor that can be found.

3. One character can confess, or both. Player choice! As long as someone's doing some confessing.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK

1. Gyests, sometimes called Ghests or Bargyests are evil creatures from Northumberland, UK folklore. They seek to lure travelers away from a known and safe road to their miry and marshy demise, or perhaps lead them to walk in the darkness of a Cheviot night over the edge of a precipice. Often taking the shape of horses, donkeys or large dogs, Gyests could also shape-shift to appear as men, or even stacks of hay. But always their intention was to trick humans, for their own amusement, and lure them to their doom.

2. Attempts to lure or trap the Gyest will not work.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

➤ METHUSELAH'S FEAST

[ he remembers falling. he remembers the glint of the blade, the discordant note of the snap, the recoil, the weightlessness followed by the inevitability of all the forces of the air and metal and water closing in on him. he remembers the look in nai's eyes, the name in his mouth. he screams. but instead it reverberates into a choke, a mouthful of snow that he half inhales into his lungs - an aborted little pathetic thing as vash scrambles up into standing from where he is laying face down in a field of white. ]

➤ Y/N/CONTINUE?

[ the snow is a new thing for him - which in itself is novel enough, all things considered - but vash quickly decides that he doesn't like it half as much as the occasional rain that would drench noman's land. it's hard to walk in the snow, too, but in a different way than the sand that would turn underfoot into a sucking mire, and vash keeps finding himself shifting his weight in the uneven frozen land as he would normally used to; he's lost count of how many times he's fallen on his bottom.

the field seems endless. the snowflakes fall into his eyes, into his hair, melting and slipping through the seams of his clothes until he is shivering and clutching at his coat to wrap it tighter around himself, like a cocoon, but it doesn't bring him any relief. but finally, there is something (or someone) in his line of sight that isn't just some endless open nothingness. immediately, as though he hadn't just been looking like he was about to turn into an icicle, vash is going to throw up his arms (one, a bright bottle-green skeletal concoction) and wave frantically, calling out: ] Hello!!! Hi there!!!! Hold on!!!!! I'm not going to hurt you!!!!

[ at this point, you have two options:

1. [ vash will run towards you, a stumbling, awkward blur of red coat and blond hair, until a stray hidden root under the snow catches at his foot and send him sprawling rather spectacularly, sliding at least a few metres face down in a shower of snow and dirt until he comes to a slow, pathetic stop in front of you ]

OR/

2. [ he makes his way miraculously without any root-related accident happening, and immediately starts invading your personal space, taking off his coat and throwing it around your shoulders - or at least, attempting to (barring any resistance on your end). ] How long have you been out here? It's freezing! Here, take this -

➤ FINALLY, ACTUAL FEASTING

[ eventually, like many others, vash will make his way into the town - he is sitting near the middle of the room, close enough to the fire that the bright crackling light glances off the oversized, orange lenses of his glasses every time he looks over, scanning people's faces - but it doesn't look as if he is particularly looking for anyone. he doesn't look as if he's doing it out of any apprehension or nervous fear either, which would be made more obvious when he is constantly moving - jumping up from his seat only to hand over a mug of (untouched) tea that he's been holding to someone else, or to guide them closer to the fire, or else scramble to bring more blankets or bandages or anything that they might need.

maybe you're one of those people, or maybe you're just looking on - just resting like so many others - but when each task is done and people are settled, vash is just going to settle back down to his rather isolated bit of corner, absently rubbing at his upper arms to fend off the cold and hunching in on himself. at the first sign of any eye contact, though, his whole expression will brighten instantly, and vash will wave a friendly, if not slightly tentative, greeting (almost as if he isn't sure if you're actually looking at him), before pointing at the nearest table of food. ]

Hello! Do you need anything? Are you hungry?

➤ GUILTY PARTY potential cws discussed: "child" abuse, science experiments, body mutilation, murder and violence, gaslight gatekeep genocide, etc

[ WICKEDNESS LIES WITHIN YOU. CONFESS.

vash lets out a laugh - or, at least, it's intended to be a laugh - it is more like a wheeze of breathing through lungs constricted by the chains, and he wriggles (ineffectually) in the seat with a chaotic jingle jangle of metal links that almost drown out the rest of the words. for the first time his smile seems too forced, slipping off kilter, strained. ]

Um, I don't really- ow, these are sharp - [ a little whine in his voice ] D'you really have to tie people up like this?

➤ WILDCARDIN'

[ vash is from the end of episode 10 of TRIGUN STAMPEDE. happy to work with any other ideas you have! i got too shy to write more so throwing the rest into this option ... i'm open to shenanigans and vash will get himself into plenty of trouble, so pm me to chat! ]

[having left behind the warmth and relative safety of the community hall to wander the snow-trodden roads that unraveled past the mining town, knives welcomed the cold. it was uncomfortable, the chilled winds biting at whatever exposed skin it could touch. he may not be dead, but he could still find penance where he could in these wretched lands. if anything, he could at least lead others lost in the snow towards the town.

a trade off, from one desolation to another. he simply cannot escape this cycle of suffering.

powdery snow gathers across his covered shoulders, dusting the top of his hood. his face is left freezer burnt across his cheeks and the tip of his nose, turning it up at the sound of someone calling out. there isn't even a chance to react beyond simply watching as the poor fool trips over himself, tumbling through snow like something out of a cartoon gag, until they slide to a stop right at his feet. knives sighs, weary worn and heavy, before leaning down to grab a tight handful of that bright red coat by the scruff and lifting the idiot up to his feet in one fluid motion.]

Not very bright, are you?

[there are details that stick out to him as he keeps his grip firm. red coat, blonde hair now sprinkled with snow, and a face that was too familiar -

he is too tired for this.]

[ Knives had wanted to leave the community hall and naturally Vash wasn't going to let him go alone so soon after reuniting. Going outside was probably for the better for the both of them, away from all the confused newcomers and prying eyes to have a moment for themselves. There's also the fact that Knives isn't used to this environment and all its dangers whereas Vash has had the time to familiarize himself with Milton and its surroundings, being at least a bit more acclimatized to the climate by now. Vash had made his mind up to come along the second Knives had gotten up to leave. Although of course Knives hadn't waited for him when Vash said he'd had to get his coat and gloves first, having returned to a hall now devoid of his twin's presence once he'd retrieved it and grabbed a spare coat for good measure.

Mercifully the footprints in the snow provide Vash an easy path to follow — especially when the majority of the footprints lead into the hall rather than out — as he leaves the little haven behind and goes chasing after his brother in a rush. It doesn't take him too long to catch up and see his figure meandering along the road up ahead. He has half a mind to yell after him to wait up, but Vash knows better and saves his breath. He gets distracted by someone else calling out anyway. From where he is, he's privy to what happens next and he's wincing in sympathy as someone in red (great taste!) comes sliding down after face-planting into the snow.

Vash reaches Knives' side, extra coat tucked under one arm, just as his brother is bending down to grab the unfortunate soul by the scruff and pull him up. ]

Knives, be gentle!

[ He chides before his gaze drifts over to the person now lifted up out of the snow, the question about their well-being dying in his throat when he finds himself staring at... well, someone who looks an awful lot like himself. It's as though someone turned back the clock and changed a lot of little details of his younger self and yet the hallmarks are all there from the mole under his left eye to the (much fancier) prosthetic arm. ]

... Huh. This is new.

[ He wishes he could say stranger things have happened here and that staring at some sort of facsimile of himself isn't the strangest, but it definitely is. After a moment of nonplussed staring, he catches himself and remembers the question he'd meant to ask. ]

Are you alright?

[ vash is, in fact, too busy spluttering the dirt and the snow out of his mouth to realise immediately that he's been hauled to his feet by the scruff of his neck like some kind of pathetic animal. even when he can barely speak for all the gross stuff in his mouth and eyes, and the fact that his teeth are chattering from the cold, he is going to start apologising in between coughing and wiping his face. ]

Sor- hrk - Sorry! Wow, that root came out of nowhere ... [ no, vash, you're just blind ] I didn't mean to!

[ something about the cadence of the stranger's voice is oddly familiar though. it's nothing that he can quite put his finger on and say this is it, but then, so many things (so many people) are; in between and without, at the border of half familiarity and remembering. it is only when a second set of footsteps join that vash is finally able to look up, hairline still matted with clumps of frozen ice and running into his eyes making him squint behind the glasses, and ... ] -Oh.

[ what can he really say, in this situation?

he sees the coat first, the bright red of it catching his eye amidst all the washed out colours of their surroundings. he sees pale skin and dark hair and the odd interchanging bluegreen of their eyes, the splatter of the marks under their eyes, without quite registering. maybe he doesn't. maybe he does.

(he'd called him knives)

what vash actually does, after a long minute of open-mouthed staring, is to raise his right hand in a tentative, half-awkward greeting, the back of his coat still grasped in knives' hand. ]

...Uh. [ nice. articulate. ]

Don't chastise me.

[even if he knows vash would have caught up to him, there had been a wild hope that his brother would have wizened up and left him to wander on his own. after all he did... somewhat promise to return, at some point during their earlier conversations. oh well.

whatever this is, knives is deciding to take it in stride. why does this person share his brother's likeness? not only in appearance, knives can feel the soft hum of an old song, a connection they've shared since their birth and while it was considerably weaker now with his abilities burnt to nothing, he could never forget that lullaby.

this was a plant, too. just like them.

knives finally lets go and moves his hand to less-than gently knock the clumps of ice and snow from tousled blonde hair. even the same shade, although all evidence of the similarities were gone now and replaced with black decay. he looks to the artificial arm, one brow raised in silent question. then he looks to vash and instantly his expression falls into a judgmental frown.]

What the hell are you wearing?

[ When in doubt Vash does what he always does: roll with it. So when a hand is raised to give an awkward little wave, he raises his own to give a friendly one back with a good-natured smile while totally ignoring Knives' comment. He'll chastise his brother as much as he likes, thank you very much. After everything, he's earned at least that right.

Although he makes a disapproving sound at his brother's continued rough handling, it's exceedingly difficult to stop staring and he's too preoccupied doing so to snap properly at Knives. He can't help but be fascinated, picking out the discrepancies between them like a spot-the-difference puzzle. With the initial shock fading, curiosity is quick to take its place. Many questions are bubbling up beyond the obvious, such as that flashy prosthetic arm. What is it made of? The see-through nature and shape of it reveal there's no gun or is it just hidden in a different, high-tech way? His eyes catch on the SEEDS patch too and that raises different questions altogether. So many he would like to ask, he doesn't know where to start!

His brother's voice pulls his attention back to Knives and his judgemental expression that Vash promptly returns with an offended one. ]

Something more weather-appropriate than you and your bed sheet. Here, I brought you an actual coat.

[ He extends his arm, holding out the extra coat, and if he knocks said arm into Knives' chest a tiny bit harder than necessary... well, consider it revenge for trying to give him the slip and being a judgemental prick. He leaves his arm there, fully expecting Knives to take the coat from him (but not surprised if he won't), as he looks back to the other red-clad figure, deciding to shove all curiosity aside for now. It can wait. ]

I'm sure you must have a lot of questions. [ They all do in this moment. ] But let's get you inside, mm'kay? Frostbite is a real danger here.

[ "a lot of questions" sure is an understatement of the last century for sure, but vash is trying to focus on one thing at a time - like the way knives roughly brushes off the snow from his hair, stumbling as he is let back go to stand on his own two feet (nearly avoiding falling flat on his face again). something about the gesture feels familiar, in a way that aches at something deep in his bones, the way old breaks and old scars hurt with the passing of the seasons.

shivering again despite all his efforts not to, vash curls his fingers into the coat, drawing it closer around him as he glances from under his lashes at the both of them as they bicker. ]

Um, yeah, sure!

... Sorry for keeping you out here.

[there's weight behind that offered coat and knives huffs through his nose, angling vash a narrowed look.]

Don't call it that. [gruff, indignant that lasts all of a sparse moment before he sighs and takes the coat with a jerk. some things never change, the familiarity of something close to amicable after so long is stumbling. his brow twitches.]

Don't apologize. I came out here to find idiots like you. [he explains, tone flat and matter-of-fact. he looks between the new idiot and his idiot, one he can't escape even after death and then turns to keep moving down the road.]

Take him back with you, Vash.

[ By all appearances, Vash looks as though he's ignoring Knives entirely, not acknowledging either the narrowed look shot his way or the gruff response, but his awareness is obvious in how his smile widens when the coat is taken from him, pleased to be met with little resistance. The coat alone is not going to be enough out here where the cold is quick to sink into every inch of exposed skin, but it's a start. It's more than the poor shivering mess in front of them has anyway. Vash wishes he'd brought another coat and is more than tempted to offer his own, but it's going to be too tight to fit over the one his double is already wearing.

The apology catches him off guard, head tilting in confusion even as he waves it off. ]

Don't be silly, there's no need to apologize!

[ Actually, what's even more surprising is Knives' statement about how he came out here to look for people and that definitely earns him a brief, questioning look from Vash. But getting their self-appointed charge inside as quickly as possible takes precedence above all.

In the same motion that he steps and turns to put himself right next to his doppelganger, one arm sliding behind him to rest lightly on his back to guide him while also offering him some body heat with his close proximity — still giving him the room to easily step away should he feel too uncomfortable by the intrusion into his personal space — his other hand shoots out lightning fast to grab Knives' wrist in a vice-like grip. ]

Be a good big brother and walk us back.

[ The seemingly sugar-sweet smile he flashes Knives holds a veiled threat that he isn't getting a say in this. He can either come of his own volition or he's getting bodily dragged along and he should know how that would end; Vash always won the little scuffles and wrestling matches of their youth for a reason. ]

Are you leaving?!

[ the response comes out louder than intended - seemingly bursting out from the tightness in his ribs, constricting his lungs until vash feels as though he would explode. almost at the same time as the other his own hand shoots out, taking hold of knives' other arm in a grip that is surprisingly strong, surprisingly desperate, as a drowning man might clutch at any stray overhanging branch to pull him from the currents.

for a moment, vash seems to forget his initial apprehension - for a moment, he forgets about the cold, the strangeness of this entire situation, the sinking feeling in his gut. for a moment, he forgets to look scared - though the furrow in his brows and the wide, caught in the headlight look in his eyes still remain as he looks up at knives, as if seeing something that is not quite ... isn't.

he drops his eyes away quickly enough, swallowing with a little click in his throat. ]

... Stay. Please.

[ despite the bowed head and the hunched shoulders as though he is expecting a blow to fall any moment, his fingers curl tightly around knives' forearm to physically hold him in place - even daring to pull himself away from his double and the comforting body warmth so he can give the captured arm a little stubborn, insistent tug. ]

[leading lost sheep out from the cold into the warm embrace of relative safety wasn't at the top of his list of things he wanted to do, but it was certainly preferable to sitting around and twiddling his thumbs as he waited for the other shoe to drop. at least like this he gave himself something to do and spared another from wandering the freezing land that surrounded the town. better him than someone else.

stopped by force by not one, but two hands has knives' head snapping back to fixate a simmering look first on vash, opposing the sweet smile his brother gives him with a twitch to his eye and a deepening frown. he could fight the issue, that old urge to rear his stubborn side in opposition to vash's own bullheadedness flickering... but it dies down when his gaze shifts towards the other - his brother's twin-but-not-quite so. between the two they leave him no room to slip away.

already he can feel the telltale signs of a headache brewing behind his eyes. knives tilts his head back, nose scrunched in annoyance, and eyes closing briefly to escape that look.]

Irritating. Both of you.

[by the power of vash combined, knives turns back towards the town while still sporting that sour look. he doesn't wait for either one as he pushes between them to start walking, pointedly refusing to acknowledge how they were both latched on his arms. parasitic comes to mind.]

[ His double's sudden outburst manages to startle Vash, drawing his eyes away from Knives' simmering look to stare at him in surprise. It doesn't last long before his face softens in understanding at the desperation he sees there. He might have no real idea what's actually going on here, but he has an inkling and it's all too easy for him to imagine what it might be like to be in his younger self's shoes and seeing what his twin image is seeing: an amicable Knives who bickers back somewhat good-naturedly rather than with vitriol and hate-filled agenda. It would have been like a secret dream come true; a future he never even dared to imagine for them.

The second he sees Knives tilt his head back from his peripheral, he knows they've won and so he's prepared when Knives starts to turn and push between them, easily moving with him without letting go of his wrist. As they go, he shoots his double a grin and a quick thumbs-up before he uses his long stride to fall into step next to Knives. He adjusts his grip, replacing the tight hold on his wrist by loosely linking their arms instead before leaning in to whisper into his ear: ]

Thank you.

[ It's said with utter sincerity more on behalf of his doppelganger and also as an attempt to smooth any ruffled feathers. He leans forward after to catch his not-quite-twin's gaze from Knives' other side, offering easy reassurance. ]

Don't worry, we're not far from town. We'll have you all warm and cozy in no time!

[ as soon as knives turn and begin to walk, almost pulling them along in his annoyance, vash drops his hand away - letting it fall back to his side as he widens his stride to keep up with the two of them. a part of him wants to let the grip linger, even catching at the hem of his sleeve, maybe, but he doesn't quite dare to. call it a gut feeling, call it whatever you will, but there is something in the look in their faces that goes beyond more than the outward difference of the colour of their hair. some kind of bone-deep weariness, even though his other self still smiles brightly as he himself would. ]

Have you ... What kind of place is this?

[ a different planet, in some part of the wide open galaxy, probably, but that still doesn't answer the question of how he instantly ended up in this place. ]

cw: suicidal ideation

brutalact - 2023-10-19 18:48 (UTC) - Expand

vash the stampede | TRIGUN STAMPEDE

y/n - one + sum wildcard

busts in like the kool-aid man

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Actual Feasting

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