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singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
Entry tags:
December 2023 Test Drive Meme
DECEMBER 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 — MISTY FALLS CAVE: The Interlopers go out in search of a hidden cave in the mountains found by Methuselah, which may still contain the hidden stash of a doomsday prepper. However, they get a little more than they bargained for when they venture inside.
PROMPT THREE — SERPENT'S BREATH: Interlopers investigate the mysterious cause of whatever is killing and poisoning the wildlife and vegetation of the area — and discover a supernatural creature is behind it.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-Decmber.
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 a long time. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are pretty mouldy. 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.
It’s possible you may come across someone here. Another fellow Interloper, 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. Civilisation…?
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 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.
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, even more, still. Just as I thought.” he muses. “I wonder if this is perhaps the new status quo. 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. They bring more of you every so often. 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, 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 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 grilled fish. There's also things like instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast, although newcomers will note from others who have been here some time that this particular feast is less bountiful this time.
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.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the time 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.
However, he will speak of something important, and will gladly share with others: “I have been looking for something for you all. There was once a townsfolk I knew of: Matthew. A suspicious, paranoid old miner who was interested in Prepping. He often spoke of the world coming to an end and strived to survive it. He often spoke of a cache hidden in the mountains, where he collected things of value. I have found the place, a hidden cave, but I am unable to get through, myself.”
… Well, he is an old man, after all.
“There are signs outside, so it is promising it is still intact. Perhaps the cache is still there. It might provide something useful for your growing numbers.”
MISTY FALLS CAVE
WHEN: Mid-month, onwards.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: booby traps; claustrophobic situations; potential injury/maiming; potential hyperthermic situations; exploration horror;
Methuselah gives directions to those willing to check out the lead for the old prepper cache. Following the river up from Milton Basin will lead to rugged, difficult pathways up towards Misty Falls — a waterfall, the river source itself. Most of the river is completely frozen with the freezing temperatures, but it is not completely so the closer to the source you go. Misty Falls is certainly idyllic, or it would be perhaps on a fine summer’s day — good for a nice hike. But the place looks desolate in the eternal winter cursing the Northern Territories.
The half-frozen waterfall is a din of sound, but the water itself is incredibly fresh and cooling for those hot and tired from the hike up. Those paying attention might notice a small space between the water and rock, big enough to squeeze through to get behind the waterfall itself. In the small space, the entrance to a small cave can be found. There are faded handmade signs, all in the same hand, reading ‘DANGER KEEP OUT’ and it isn’t too far of a stretch to wonder if perhaps this might be the secret stash of the old miner that Methuselah spoke of.
Venturing into the cave will not be an easy task. It seems the old miner was keen to keep any trespassers out, and most of this comes down to the cave itself. The walls of the cave quickly narrow, with only enough space to walk in single file. Jutting stone will easily make those stumble and trip. Occasionally the cave’s passage becomes narrower, meaning one might have to stoop or even crawl to carry on through. Here and there, the uneven floor dips, and your feet will find themselves in shin-deep frigid water. It’s slow-going, even if the actual passage itself isn’t incredibly long.
But perhaps the worst of all is the pressing darkness. A darkness so black even with lanterns switched off, one’s eyes cannot adjust to it. It is smothering, pressing. The air is stale and damp, you feel small — and the cave itself still presses in on you. The miner also kept a few tricks up his sleeve in order to keep out intruders. There are dead-ends, making it easy to get lost. Trip wires are hidden in the darkness, causing small man-made cave-ins to fall upon unsuspecting heads.
It might be safer, saner to give up and turn back. But persevering will see the cave opening up once more, this time widening into a room. The place is fashioned into some crude shelter. There is furniture, lanterns to be lit.
With more light, the miner’s stash is revealed: the painstaking, time-costing work of a paranoid old recluse. Crates of non-perishable foods, MREs, and bottled water. Medicines and basic medical supplies, flares and tools.
A perfect supply of survival goods, ripe for the taking.
SERPENT'S BREATH
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of dead animals; malevolent creature; snakes/serpents; poison/airborne toxins; potential poisonings; potential burn injuries; potential (temporary) blinding.
It’s noticed in different ways: perhaps a trail of dead animals stands before you, each one with no particular injury other than what appears to be burned hides and flesh — it is as if the wildlife simply dropped dead, for the most part. Perhaps you notice huge, tunnel-like grooves in the deepest parts of the snow, a few feet in width — as if something long and thick had made its way through to clear a path. More worryingly for some, they might notice trails of rot: destroyed trees, decaying plant life, as if the very earth itself has been scorched in the wake of something passing through, leaving nothing but destruction and devastation.
Something is destroying the flora and fauna of the world. There seems to be no pattern, simply the random trails all over the place. There appears to be no other tracks, other than the long, smooth tunnel-like pathways. Whatever it is, it must be stopped. Resources are so precious in this world, if the beast is allowed to continue then all who live here will soon starve due to lack of animals to hunt and plants to gather.
Following the tunnels is a sure-way to hunt the beast down, although these paths will lead far from town. It is best to go prepared. But soon enough, you may come across the slumbering beast, curled up on the snow or coiled underneath some jutting space of stone along the mountains. You’ll hear and smell it before you see it: the long grumbling snores as it sleeps, and the putrid stench of rot. Everything in you tells you to flee, much like when an animal senses something toxic, or poisoning.
You press on, finally stumbling across the beast: a long, serpent-like dragon, with tremendous horns and fangs, coloured with muted grey scales and huge, glowing, flamed eyes.
The element of surprise will work in your favour to try and kill the beast, but it will give up a good fight. It will take several rounds of fights with it before it will finally be taken down permanently. It moves quickly, with scales like steel. Its eyes and mouth are its weakest spots, as is the soft underbelly of its body — fire will work well on harming this beast, especially with a well aimed shot into its mouth.
Its open mouth is where it holds its most powerful weapon. Not the fangs, no. The very reason why the air smells of rot, why the wildlife lay dead, why the earth decays at your feet: its breath. The beast’s breath is highly toxic, it will burn the skin of those it comes into contact with. Breathing in the fumes will poison those who breathe it in, and will cause a weakening, sickly illness. The breath may even temporarily blind.
These injuries are not fatal, and will heal with time and the basic medical attention available in the world. Victims will require rest for at least a week, depending on how severe the blast of the serpent’s breath. But killing the best will ensure its havoc is brought to an end.
FAQs
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.
1. Tools found would be basic survival/camping tools one might expect: knives, hand axes, rope, handsaws, torches, batteries, etc.
1. The Stoor Worm, or Mester Stoor Worm, was a gigantic evil sea serpent of Orcadian folklore, capable of contaminating plants and destroying animals and humans with its putrid breath. Assipattle, the youngest son of a local farmer, defeated the creature by flinging still-burning peat into its mouth. As it died its teeth fell out to become the islands of Orkney, Shetland and the Faroes, and its body became Iceland.
2. It is possible the harvest the beast once it is killed, particularly for its fangs and skin. The skin/scales will provide ample protection to try to use it for armouring themselves. The fangs would provide useful for crafting knives or weapons.
3. It is... technically possible to eat the meat of the beast. Care should be taken in butchering, however. And it is not advised to eat the head.
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the silence stretches on - broken only by the sloshing of water in a bucket - ice cold and stinging his hand - as vee wrings out the cloth to wrap around knives' throat, wincing at the purpling bruises lining the skin, the mark of a thumb standing out dark over his bobbing windpipe. there's nothing much that can be done about it besides rest and time, neither of which they have in abundance - not when he knows that they must be on the way soon. there is no way that his other self wouldn't. this is their safe place, a sanctuary of sorts that they have built for themselves - making room, first, for him, and now the man that he only vaguely recognises as someone familiar.
he works mechanically - a hand pressing at the edge of knives' shoulder, forcing him to stillness; packing the bucket in with more snow gathered at the edge of the back entrance; leaving it by the door to keep cold. what else is there to do? cleaning up, maybe. they need more firewood. the remains of what breakfast they threw together still sitting in the kitchen. there is a myriad of things to do but for now, he stands almost stubbornly leaning against the door, feeling the cold air blowing through the small gap at the bottom. he wriggles his toes inside the boots, absently knocking loose a small clump of ice at the heel. the way vash's voice had broken still catches at the edge of his hearing, and he has to stop himself from tilting his head, chasing the phantom echo of the noise.
but it isn't an echo. it is a brighter sound - something almost forced in the evenness of it, but something that vee chooses to ignore in favour of pushing himself off the door and making his way towards the other two, peeking around the doorway from the little kitchen with a (hopefully steady) smile. ]
We're over here!
[ with a glance over at knives (who better stay put in the chair that he's deposited him on, by the way), vee trots over to the others, his hands half-raised in a placating gesture towards vash. he drops his voice in a quick whisper, his right hand briefly closing around the bend of the other's elbow, before letting go with a quick, startled jerk - almost apologetic in the way he ducks his head. ]
He's okay, don't worry. Just ... I've put some ice on his throat. Keep him quiet?
[ the last part is almost a hopeless suggestion, as vee doesn't think that knives will readily consent to that ... ]
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he can't say he really enjoys being the one taken care of, more than a few times the urge to reach out and take the wrung towel or the bucket of ice water from vee rose up. there were other tasks vee could handle instead of this, instead of him, but...
the towel is carefully packed around his throat, cold prickling the abused flesh. he hasn't looked at the damage in a mirror yet, but from what he could judge on vee's expression as his fingers lingered over the bruises, he knows it must look bad. it was just like that lying bastard of a priest to come in and make things unnecessarily worse. the last thing his brothers' needed were more reasons to worry.
vee flits off with a not-so subtle command to stay seated in the chair, set close by the fire, and knives can't be bothered yet to disobey. he leans forward, elbows resting against his spread knees, deep in thought with only the flames quietly clicking and vee's muted movements to play as background noise. it isn't long until vash's presence is heard, as quiet as it is, along with the promise of wolfwood at his side. vee approaches them first and knives can hear him whispering, turning his head to stare into the fire.
ah... watching the flames, he suddenly remembers he left the hunting knife behind at the community hall. it'll be a waste if someone else snatches it for themselves.]
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The church is small but neat, although he takes in very little of it save for that it's empty of people. Of all the places they could have takes over, he'll wonder later, why the church? The high ceilings mean it's harder to heat, and it seems like a waste of space to have only three people living in such a large building. Perhaps it was assigned? Was there a lottery, in the first batch of arrivals? Maybe Knives chose it, in his arrogance. Maybe it's a shrine to his failed attempt at godhood. Wolfwood won't ask.
Vash veers off, heading for a door to the side as he calls out a warning of their arrival. The responding voice is so similar it could be an echo, and that brings Wolfwood's head up, just in time for a blond ghost to come bounding out of a side door, pressing Vash's arm with jerky, anxious movements, murmuring something about ice. Knives is on the other side of that door, Wolfwood realizes, but he can't take his eyes off the newcomer. He really is Vash, but a reflection of Vash, maybe. A mirage. A dream of the man, maybe, so similar in a thousand ways but at the same time new. He feels like Vash, too, somehow. This isn't a human man with blond hair and too-bright eyes. He's really another plant. It's really another Vash.
He can't look away.
You weren't kidding, Spikey, [ --he breathes, as some of the looming dread dissipates in the face of, well, a familiar face. The devil might be here, but so's the savior of humanity – doubled! Two Vashes. How in the hell is it possible, there's two of him! Wolfwood's cigarette hangs forgotten by his side as his battle-ready mask quirks into a smile. ]
Hey there, Blondie.
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To show the depth of his sincere gratitude, offer some reassurance in turn (he sees that uncertainty in the smile) and perhaps selfishly take some for himself in the process, Vash opts for the one gesture that conveys that the best. He steps closer and briefly knocks their foreheads together gently, black-rot hair pressed to and mingling with pristine blond. His voice drops to a soft whisper, meant only for his other self's ears. ]
Thank you, Vash.
[ Not Vee, not frérot, a full acknowledgement. He's exhausted enough that the temptation to linger in the comfort of closeness is there in full force. He doesn't. He pulls back again at the sound of Wolfwood's voice, unable to keep from smiling — impossibly fond — at the easy greeting Wolfwood gives his other self as well as a smile. Vash shifts and turns sideways, giving them an unobstructed view from one another. ]
You know Wolfwood, yes?
[ Vash isn't actually sure. Vee could be early enough in his journey that he hasn't met a Wolfwood of his own yet or possibly in some cruel (or kind?) twist of fate, he never will in his universe. They've never talked about it, like so many other things they probably should have by now, but it's not as if Vash could have. He hasn't even been able to say his friend's name until today.
Vash doesn't linger on it. Although he believes Vee's assurance that his twin is okay, he's still anxious to see him and make sure no fight will break out. Somehow. So he's pressing right on without waiting for a response. ]
I've brought along soup and stew from the community hall so we won't have to cook tonight. Lemme put those away and I'll make us all some tea. Get comfy!
[ And just like that he's ducking past Vee; a typhoon ever on the move. He fully intends to do both of those things, of course, but he's making a bee-line for his brother first, approaching the figure by the fire with a tentative: ]
Knives?
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[ that wry look doesn't go unmissed - there is something similar, perhaps, in the way vee huffs out a breath at that, his brows creasing minutely as is his smile in return; a sentiment shared, albeit unspoken. it isn't as though they are not stubborn, but knives' obstinacy towards basic care is at a next level - or so he could claim, though really, are they any better?
vee twists his fingers absently as he gauges the other's reaction, trying to not make it seem so obvious (hopefully not) that he is scanning vash's expression, lingering on the reddened edge of his eyes and the way his smile seems a shade too forcefully bright. he still doesn't really understand the situation here ... too many missing pieces of the puzzle, and one that he is reluctant to search more of - call him a coward, but there is something dark and gaping in the way knives seems to sometimes blankly stare ahead as though looking at nothing. there is something inexplicably torn in the way vash looks at him sometimes, their gazes meeting but turning back without words. the circumstances that led them here ... the path that has turned their hair jet black, he doesn't want to think about it. just a coward, after all.
his weight shifts from toe to heel and then back again as though he cannot keep still with the nervous flighty energy buzzing under his skin, but vee obligingly tilts his face towards the other's motion - briefly knocking their foreheads together. there is nothing to it now but an empty pang in his gut, an absence that throbs with only an echo of what they have all lost, but it's still comforting - the other's words even more so. it makes his expression brighten a little, his smile bleeding easier onto his face, a little more natural, as vee reaches up to ruffle vash's hair before pulling away, knocking aside the pale snow still lingering there caught within the dark strands. ]
You know you don't need to say that.
Now come on, before he does something stupid again.
[ he tips his head to one side, gaze following vash out as the other makes his way towards his brother, on the other side of the doorway - and it's only then that he turns his attention back to wolfwood, the edges of the brightness still lingering in the way he smiles at him, though his gait is cautious and almost awkward - reaching out a hand towards the other after a moment of hesitation, as if to shake his hand. ]
Uh, hi! Guess I don't need to introduce myself, huh ...
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I guess not.
[ There's a thousand tiny differences he can't help noting, but they're much more alike than not. He's staring, he realizes after a moment, laughing quietly at himself. He drops Vash's hand, tucking his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, stripping off the gloves and running a hand through his own (somewhat muddy and snow-dusted) hair. Two Vashes. Of all the day's strangeness, this might really be the strangest part yet. ]
I don't know what to say. [ At least it's so much warmer in this little church than it was outside. His tattered suit doesn't no a damn thing to keep the wind out, and the hideous orange jacket Vash found for him only covers so much. But in here it's cozy, comfortable... almost nice enough to forget the monster on the other side of that door. ] Pleased to meetcha, I guess?
[ He gaze flicks part Vash to the doorway beyond, and for just that moment his expression goes hard and cold. It passes as quickly as it came, although that friendly smile when he looks back at Vash is less bright, and more weary. ]
Or maybe sorry for th'intrusion. You wouldn't believe the day I've had. [ And it's not over yet. ] To be honest, I'm not sure I do.
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it's a question that goes unanswered, perhaps deliberately so, as vash lets the other go to his brother, to mitigate and quell whatever aftereffects that their encounter has left on knives. it's not going to be easy - if what little he'd seen means anything - but they've always been too optimistic to a fault, too prone to seeing the good in people over the bad.
unruly mop of hair falls over his forehead as vash shakes wolfwood's hand, answering the laugh with his own, quieter one. and if he seems to look the other over, it's only (ostensibly) to check for any further injuries. that's all. nothing else to it. ]
I can only imagine.
[ is that a trick of the wind beginning to pick up outside, rattling at the window frames, or is that a droning sarcasm in vash's voice? well, even if it is, the quickflash smile he shoots towards the other might (hopefully) mitigate whatever sting it has ... the fact is that yes, wolfwood might have it bad, but none of them are having the best of days and it's not even over yet.
there is the birdlike motion again, a quirk of his head that is half curious, half watchful as wolfwood look around - unblinkingly following his gaze to the doorway that his other self has disappeared through, and then back towards him. when their eyes meet, vash just smiles again as though he hadn't seen the way wolfwood's features harden, reaching out a hand again - curling his fingers into the crook of his elbow. it is a light touch, but insistent. ]
Come on. Let's get you warmed up! I'll get the fire going.
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Wolfwood's tried to live by that last tenet for the past year, he really has. And he could explain that he thought this was Hell, that he saw Knives and panicked, that he was so certain that the man's presence here was meant as a punishment for him personally... but none of that changes the fact that he saw Knives across the room and attacked him with intent to kill. Even a heart as forgiving as Vash's might take some time to let that go, he knows, and so he nods, and lets himself be guided. ]
It's just the three of you here? [ --he tries again, somewhat lamely, hunting desperately for a safe topic. ] You don't have the insurance girls tucked away in a side room or anything, do ya?
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Sorry, it's really cold here - [ carefully, as though wolfwood is constructed of fragile glass only barely holding itself together, vash guides him down onto a chair near the fireplace. it is unlit, though there is a bundle of firewood stacked up beside, and vash fusses over the other man for another moment before pulling aside to kneel in front of the grate, picking up the wood and beginning to pack it into the fireplace. ]
I would have got this going sooner if I knew you were going to be here so soon, but ... [ a little shrug, mothing but a loose jerk of his shoulders, and vash ducks his head again as though he's said something he shouldn't. ] Don't worry though! I've had plenty of practice, see!
[ okay, good change of topic. that manages to bring him up short, cutting through the middle of his rambling - and vash blinks, his eyes wide and confused and blank for a second, before he glances up at wolfwood. ]
What insurance girls?
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It's disappointing, he thinks, letting himself be seated by the cold fire. He'd been thinking that he'd stay with Vash -- the other Vash -- wherever the man was staying. He'd have slept on the floor, in the hall, whatever, just to share a roof with him, for the security of having a friend close in a strange place. But Knives lives here, which means Wolfwood can't. He won't. He'll have to go back to the community hall after this, claim a cot for the night, and tomorrow he'll see what places in town are available.
...Wait, what did he say? ]
What do you mean, what insurance girls? [ He knows Knives, and Wolfwood, so surely he knows shorty and the big girl. Doesn't he? ] Milly? And Meryl? They were followin' you around before you and I even met.
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That's what I said, [ a frown starts to furrow in between the set of his brows, and vash, if anything, looks more confused than ever ... at least, until wolfwood mentions a certain name. ]
Oh! I know Meryl! [ his expression brightens slightly, before dipping away; he hopes she was safe - it doesn’t quite feel rigit, to acknowledge his acquaintance with her like this, knowing just what kind of mess he'd left them all in. ] I didn't know she knew anything about insurance ...
[ though, judging by the way she drove that car sometimes, honestly it somehow made a whole lot of sense. ]
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That's how you met. [ In his world, anyway. ] They were chasin' after you to stop you typhoonin' through places, because you were costing Bernardelli Insurance too much money.
[ Meryl without Milly though... What happened to her? Did she not exist in this Vash's world? Has he just not met her yet? Or is it like his shiny green hand -- just a way that their different worlds went different routes.
He'll have to ask Vash about the girls. He hopes they made it. ]
It's a shame you didn't get to meet her. Milly, I mean. She had a big heart. You've liked her.
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well, it isn't as though they had much of a chance to compare any sort of notes, really, with the way they would dance around (and away) from having actual conversations about it ... in any case, vash doesn't appear to be too overly concerned, turning his attention back to fussing over the wood in the fireplace and getting them stacked just right. ]
I guess some things are just different, huh ...
[ milly? he doesn't think he'd met anyone with that name before ... at least, not in the way that wolfwood describes.
he fidgets with the flint, drawing his knuckles through the wood shavings, and doesn't meet the other's eyes. ] Do you, um, know anybody called Roberto, then?
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A chill hits him again, and Wolfwood tucks his hands into his armpits, breathing slow to will the shivers away. It's not that cold in here, really -- the chill is in his heart rather than in his bones, but he'll be fine. He just needs a little time, that's all. ]
No. Never heard of him.
[ He can just barely hear the murmur of voices in the next room, where the other Vash is talking with Knives. When this all turns out to be a fever dream, or the last few thoughts of his dying brain, he won't be at all surprised.
What a weird thing to imagine, though. ]
Is it true? Is Knives really powerless here?
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vash lets out a laugh - hoping that it doesn't sound too awkward and ungainly - and shuffles again, the flint clicking between his fingers. ] Alright, then ... Uh, don't worry about it!
[ the way wolfwood moves - cold and stiff, as if the chill has gotten straight into the marrow of his bones - doesn't escape him, and that's what spurs vash into action - hastily striking the flint once, then twice, until the spark catches at the shavings and begins to light. it flickers against the bottle-green digits, making them shine out briefly as vash piles it close to the wood, and he watches the flame flicker as it start to eat through the wood. ]
Um, yeah. Everyone is ...
[ including himself in that doesn't exactly feel right, though. it isn't as though he had anything useful to begin with.
there's a crackle and a pop, the leftover moisture drying out with the flames as it begins to heat up properly, and vash lets out a relieved sigh, half-turning back to the other man. ]
Sorry, it'll warm up in a minute!
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if the priest wanted to fight, let it happen. although he couldn't say for certainty any longer what the end result would be, knives could promise something far worse than a simply broken wrist.
he sits up from his contemplative posing, scratching lightly at the wet cloth vee had wrapped around his bruised throat earlier, the iciness having faded to skin-warmed damp. knives pulls it away, revealing the lovely, bruising necklace wolfwood had gifted him. there is pain when he breathes, but the worst of it is when he tries to speak and he can hear the ruined pitch of his voice. it makes him want to chew glass.
so, he says nothing and only tilts his head as he watches vash cross the distance to him. as aggravating as it was, a part of knives knows he deserved this. let the human take his pound of flesh when vash himself couldn't do it.]
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Knives' expression is pretty unreadable when he slips into the kitchen and it doesn't do much to set Vash at ease like he hoped putting eyes on his twin would. At least he can still hear Wolfwood conversing with Vee on the other side of the door, it means he's truly here and alive, and that does soothe another frazzled part of him. As tempted as he is to listen in on the conversation, he puts all his focus on his brother. It's hard to even look elsewhere when Knives pulls the cloth around his throat down, the sight of what's revealed causing Vash to visibly wince and suck in a sharp breath. It makes his stomach drop much the same way it had done when he'd spotted the knife on the floor and realized how close he'd been to losing Wolfwood yet again.
A few swift steps take him in front of his brother where he promptly drops down into a crouch, shrugging off the satchel before he's reaching out with both hands to assess the damage for himself. One takes gentle hold of Knives' chin to keep it tilted up while the cold fingers of the other ghost over the tender skin with a grimace, the held breath released in a soft hiss as though he's the one in pain. It looks nasty. Who knows how long it will take to heal now without his powers. ]
I brought painkillers. They should help, but swallowing them might be a problem. I'll see if I can dissolve one in water for you.
[ He breaks the silence with an anxious babble of words, unable to hide his worry when he's simply too exhausted to feign otherwise. He feels emotionally scraped hollow in the wake of his breakdown — perhaps not entirely unpleasantly so, the well of his grief finally drained — and strangely unmoored. The hand on Knives' chin drops to take the wet cloth from him with every intention of getting it icy cold again. Vash knows he needs to stay in motion lest the temptation to stay on the floor becomes too great to resist. ]
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vash's anxiety rolls off of him in palpable waves as knives sits there. beyond his anger at being slighted and made vulnerable by the very human he had once employed, there lies a simmering fury that now vash was forced to worry over him in such a way that knives couldn't simply wave him off. his brother would fuss and fret, the wrinkle between his brows deepening so much so that knives felt the urge to reach out and smooth away the worries that etched themselves across his brother's soft features. this isn't what he needed now, yet another unnecessary stress to add to every other stress they dealt with here. lights in the skies, ghosts, and monsters that lurked in the shadows of the forest and beneath the floorboards of their weather-worn homes.
the priest would pay, one way or another.
but for now, knives would choose to focus on vash and vee. he'd already upset the latter...
knives shakes his head, making a crumbling noise of quiet protest. it hurt, but pain was a familiar sensation by now.]
Save them.
[... it hurt to talk, try as he might not to wince around the broken rasp of his voice to force the words out. but he meant what he said; medicine was hard to come by and he could survive this discomfort.]
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It's only once his lungs are full with bracing air that he lifts his head again to regard his brother with a red-rimmed weary gaze, for once not even trying to feign any cheer or stubborn front. ]
Just one, please? For me?
[ A simple plea. Perhaps he's being selfish here when medicine is in short supply and the injury might not necessarily require it, but part of him does feel guilty about neglecting his brother back at the community hall and leaving him to Vee to take care of. Of course he couldn't have tended to both Wolfwood and Knives at the same time and he made the best decision he could in the moment, but still. It might be more about assuaging that guilt, yet there's nothing else he can do to help ease the pain for his twin save for the little round pills tucked away in his satchel.
This is all he can offer and it already doesn't feel like enough to make up for it. ]
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he can feel the exhaustion rolling off of his brother in heavy waves and when the broad palm of his hand finds itself in the messy nest of dark hair resting by his knee, it isn't for his comfort but for vash's. he knows he's lost the argument already, because while he knows he's in the right, it isn't the right answer. no...
the right answer looks up at him with bottle blue eyes that pierce through him with deadly aim. the right answer would be taking one of those pills to see the his brother breathe a little easier, one less thing to worry over. knives breathes out through his nose a sigh and the fingers carding through vash's hair tug at a few locks wrapped around slender digits. see?, he conveys with an air of exasperated surrender, I'm fine.
the hand pulls away only to lightly flick vash across the nose before knives leans back, propping an elbow against the arm of the chair. he holds that same hand out, palm up, patiently expectant. one pill, for vash.]
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Much harder to ignore is the flick to his nose, it makes his expression scrunch up briefly on impact and then transform into a pout at the injustice of getting bullied this way. It doesn't last long though. The hand held out in clear expectation is enough to melt the moue away again. In a slight burst of playfulness, Vash leans forward and rests his chin on Knives' palm to flash his brother a grateful smile before he's pulling back to rummage through his satchel, still visibly pleased at the easy cooperation. It's been easier than ever to get Knives to cave to his will in some instances and he's glad this happens to be one of them.
He takes out one of the painkillers along with the water bottle he keeps in the bag by default — perhaps less necessary here than back on No Man's Land, but an old habit he sticks to nonetheless. The little white pill is set down on Knives' waiting palm and the bottle held out to him. ]
Sure you don't want me to try and dissolve it?
[ It's not a big pill by any means, but still... his eyes drift down to the ring of bruises around Knives' throat helplessly. ]
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now with the priest's presence here, moments like this felt even more precious. whatever he felt now, the muscle of his heart tightening as he butted against the bottomless well of emotions he's kept buried for so long, would continue to go unnamed and ignored. whatever he felt deep down in the ugly crevices of his soul didn't matter against what was important now. these moments were all he'd have now, probably.
knives snorts, hand already closing around the little pill despite vash's offer. at least he could be thankful they had water aplenty here because the idea of dry swallowing something like this would have been extremely irritating. ignoring the way vash's gaze linger around his throat, knives pops the pill into his mouth before taking a swig from the water bottle. the swallow feels like razors, gritting his teeth to finish the motion. a dribble of water spills down his chin and for such a small pill he can acutely feel it slip down his throat that bastard...]
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I'm going to make some tea for everyone.
[ He announces as he picks up his satchel and spurs himself into motion again, leaving his water bottle with Knives should his brother want to sip more for his aching throat. In a flurry of movement, Vash does what he does best: keep occupied, keep moving. He drops the wet cloth in the bucket of snow by the backdoor to soak up the cold, takes off his coat, takes out the thermoses of soup and stew to set aside for later, and puts on the kettle after filling it. It's only after he's lit the stove that he retrieves the cloth, wrings it out, and returns to Knives' side with it. His fingers tingle and bloom red with the cold, but Vash pays it no more mind than he does the exhaustion clinging to him with a tenacious grip.
As he carefully wraps the icy fabric around his twin's throat — hiding those ugly bruises out of view again — there's an obvious hesitation before he quietly asks: ]
... Will you join us?
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at least wolfwood could follow through where his brother could not. he couldn't fault the man for taking the shot when he had the chance, when knives would have done the exact same if in a similar situation.
vash wipes his chin and knives rewards him by wrinkling his nose at the gesture and frowning. thankfully there was little guilt in drinking his fill of water here, watching his brother in turn flutter around as he fussed with preparations as he nurses slowly from the water bottle left behind for him. his tongue darts out to wipe away a few errant beads of water gathered on his lips, eyes tracking vash as he returns to his side with the towel freshly cold and damp. carefully, he tilts his head in offering, eyes hooded and gaze unwavering.
vash asks and he knows what he wants the answer to be and he knows what knives wants to say. the silence is heavy here, until knives sighs through his nose and allows his gaze to slide away. the chill of the towel making his skin prickle and rise with goosebumps. it's for vash that he gives a small nod in reluctant affirmation.]
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Fortunately, he doesn't have to. The sigh and the falling of his gaze are capitulation enough before the nod cements the decision.
Like a mere moment before, Vash marvels at how sometimes Knives caves to his will more easily than he ever could have hoped for, yet other times he remains his infuriatingly obstinate self. It's a flip of the coin each time. Today many seem to land in his favor and he's glad for it. The corresponding sigh that leaves him is soft and relieved, his gentle fingers finishing their careful wrapping. ]
Thank you.
[ He breathes out with another brief flash of a genuine smile. Maybe he'll come to regret asking this of Knives in a moment, but he likes to think better of both Wolfwood and his twin. He's about to stand to go get the mugs when he remembers something that stops him before he even starts the motion. His hands fall away from Knives' neck, one moving to fiddle with the pouch strapped to his thigh and retrieve the skinning blade Knives dropped back at the community hall. Vash holds it out, handle first, meaningfully. ]
Here, you dropped this.
[ For all that his tone sounds casual, it belies the significance of the gesture — both a warning that he knows how close Knives was to doing something that Vash would not be able to forgive and also a show of trust that he won't do it again. His attention doesn't waver, remaining firmly and pointedly on Knives, even when the kettle starts whistling in the background. ]