#godail

"I got it! I can heal other people, I know I can Shoko!"

It was rare to catch a glimpse of Satoru these days, so engrossed in his studies and endless practical explorations of spells new and old. He made progress frighteningly quick, popping up in his friends' lives only to show off progress, ask for critique and any guidance that required their particular expertise, then vanish again under an increasingly impossible work schedule, almost all free time spent on the obsession over his own growth.

So maybe it didn't come as that big of a surprise when he barged into Shoko's workplace with an excited look on his face, so obvious even with his eyes obscured.

ꕤ 𓂃 The twin suns glare down mercilessly. The heat is visible here & it shimmers across the sand while Wolfwood’s back grows smaller with every step forward.

Vash watches him go, then follows, the cigarette smoke as good of a guide as any. He knows what it's like to travel with no one at all; to hear footsteps that aren't really there.

❝ Heh! As if you'd really leave me. ❞

For a moment, Vash squints against the sunlight, smile softening into something fragile. The punisher cross feels particularly heavy on his back today.

❝ Right Wolfwood? ❞ he adds quietly to himself, then reaches out like he wants to grab his shoulder... stops, then continues on.

most crucial personality indicators

1. when u binge-watch tv, do u skip the intro theme song or watch it?

It depends on whether I like the opening or not as well as how long it is. If I’m just playing a show in the background aye I’ll let it play through unless it bugs me.

2. did u prefer dinosaurs or monsters as a kid?

Very specifically i was a ‘ghosts and Mexican folklore’ kid.

3. how many and what kind of collections do u keep?

I keep postcards and pencils/pens or interesting paperclips. I’d like to start collecting magnets though.

4. ya’ll r gonna hate this but ur major actually says a lot about u as a person. whats ur major?

sadsfhdhgk I did Economic and Social History (with quants) for my undergrad. Then I did masters in History (w/ Conflict Archaeology). And I’m a PhD candidate in [niche topic redacted for privacy reasons; medico-legal and social history with a focus on marginalised identities].

🖤 𓂃 Suguru doesn't answer right away.

The heat presses in every direction but that isn't the only thing that's making his movement slow.

Sweat gathers at his temple, sliding down past strands of loose black hair that have escaped his bun. His eyes look... hollow. Like he’s focusing on something just behind Shoko instead of her.

He knows she’s talking to him. Knows what she wants. It just takes longer than it should for the thought to reach his hands.

❝ Yeah, ❞ he murmurs, voice dry.

Up close it's obvious. He's changed. Suguru hasn't been eating, cheeks looking sharper. Food barely tastes like anything lately anyway. Rice, tea, sweets… all muted. Pointless effort.

Instead of reaching into his pocket Suguru goes for the back of his head, dark hair spilling & sticking to the sweat on his face.

He's staring directly at Shoko the entire time. Holds up the hair tie.

❝ Take it. ❞

Quieter.

Vash isn't an idiot; he knows how Wolfwood sees him sometimes. Nine times out of ten, they get on like a house on fire, like two partners meeting each other step for step in a dance. But sometimes, he and Wolfwood are both stretched too thin to keep pace with each other, and that's the rare occasion they start to fight.

It's usually after somebody dies.

He knows Wolfwood thinks he's weak. That Vash's pacifism is a dream born from rancid hope and pure, unadulterated stubbornness, and nothing more. There's no truth to be found there. When Vash sees someone die - usually, someone trying their damnedest to kill him - the grief he feels is an indulgence, impractical and masochistic, and the truth is, he needs to stop.

Sometimes, their fights get ugly. When that happens, one of them (usually Vash) will spend the night in the saloon, while the other (usually Wolfwood) will sit in their hotel room, tearing their hair out. They'll meet on the stairs sometime around dawn, both of them having the genius idea to find the other, and somehow, it always catches them off guard. When they're fighting, they forget just how similar they can be.

Wolfwood's eyes are always clearest in the early morning light. He won't say it, but when he drags Vash back to their motel room, Vash knows exactly what he wants to ask.

"Hiding? Who says I'm hiding anything?"

It might be the oldest trick in the book: to deflect a question with another question when you really don't want to respond. But in Vash's defence, he's not really at his best right now. It's hard to hide when you have a bullet hole in your stomach, and you'd also really like to stop a certain priest finding out about it.

Now, look. It's not that Vash is being difficult on purpose (he'll always say it just comes naturally). It's just that a man's bullet wound is a very private thing! Especially when that man isn't human; his insides are trying to stitch themselves back together in a way that makes that fact obvious; and he doesn't want to freak out someone who is.

"You're being paranoid, Wolfwood! Why don't you go on and join the girls and - ah..."

Of course, that's the moment Vash's big stupid boot gets stuck on a table leg, jolting him enough to send shockwaves through his battered body. He hisses and bites his lip hard, trying not to make a noise, but it's too late - Wolfwood's already narrowing his eyes.