#hopelantics

He falls silent, mortified and speechless as he watches the strongest person he knew crumble into nothing this feet. Knowing Vash, knowing what he was capable of and what he had done…he knew such a break down would eventually occur. But it didn’t concern not surprise him any less. To see strength become weak… The facade that The Stampede put on could only last so long until the tiniest of grazes would break it. And it had finally happened, the alcohol had been the gun. As soon as he sees Vash beginning to stumble and loose his balance he lurches forward and grabs ahold of his arm, slowly helping to lower the both of them until they’re on ground level. ”I said I love you.” He repeats, pronunciation even more distinct and firm now that it had been challenged. He meant it. He truly did love him and didn’t think he ever would stop loving him. To him, any negatives that his blonde may have were minuscule. Grains of sand when it came to the good he saw in him. The heart was what mattered. He knew what was truly there. They both knew it, but Vash was having doubts that he would be there to soothe. ”You’re a victim of your circumstances. And that doesn’t make you a monster.” this time he’s the one closing the space between them. With a firm but gentle pull he envelopes the damaged plant into his arms. One hand reaches up afterwards to cup his face. ”You’ve saved me. You’ve saved so many, Vash. And you’ve only ever acted with good intentions. You’re better than almost everyone on this god forsaken planet morally.” You’re everything I want to be. Everything that I can’t be. ”You’ve saved so much. But…not everyone can be saved. No matter how hard you try to stop it, someone has to die so someone else can live. I’m sorry.” ”All you can do now is keep going. For them. In their name.”

A victim of circumstance. Is that what he is? He hadn't considered the possibility. How can he? How can he even begin to presume to have the right?

There are far more people who could consider themselves a victim in the wake of the Humanoid Typhoon-- so many, so many of them, the sun is overhead, they smiled at him, held his hand, welcomed him, not knowing what he was capable of, gone, gone with July-- Vash feels a fresh wave of nausea as he searches Nicholas's face desperately for any sign of disgust and finds none.

His little distraction hadn't worked. Wolfwood holds him like someone worth cherishing, worth loving, and Vash wishes he was.

"Wouldn't call what I did good intenshions..." he mumbles. Vash clicks his tongue against the backs of his teeth. "Shoulda let me have that whiskey."

Maybe he would have passed out before they ever got this far into this mess. Maybe Wolfwood would have never needed to say 'I love you.'

"Aaaah..." His whole face feels flush with heat from the alcohol and then some. Wolfwood's arms would make for a comfortable noose. A good end. Big, strong, and warm. Vash's eyelids droop as he allows Wolfwood to support more of his weight. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. Not about the past, not about the present. Definitely not about feelings. Maybe the proximity is enough. He hopes it's enough. If he lets Wolfwood take care of him, maybe they can let their conversation go unaddressed.

「𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔤!」- Vash had slipped into his new home without encountering his new roommate. He had found his bedroom and discovered that all of his possessions were already there. ...So they had held his things for him...

He felt exhausted. He had stripped the gun from his hip, dropped his coat on the floor, and climbed into bed.

The buzz of his phone made the gunman peek his eyes open. Black hair was stuck up all over as he sat up and grabbed the cell phone from his bedside table.

His contacts had updated...

What time was it, even? The recently revitalized gunman had no idea.

The screen was bright in his face and he squinted as he idly scrolled the new contacts. It seemed that plenty of new people had shown up in his absence.

Legato Bluesummers

Millions Knives

Roberto De Niro

(He breezed right by another Vash the Stampede.)

All familiar.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Vash stared.

...Two Wolfwood's?

One was Nico - that Wolfwood who belonged to the same place as Roberto...

He felt his insides twist. His throat grew tight. He gripped the phone just a bit tighter. Vash hovered a finger over the new contact.

Call. Message.

Vash He didn't have a right to assume that maybe this new Wolfwood came from the same place as himself, Legato, or Knives.

The phone was up to his ear, ringing. It clicked, and not the click of a voicemail.

"Ah... um..." He made a noise in his throat. A cracky thing. He hesitated, unsure. What did he...? What if this wasn't - "...Sorry.... Wolfwood." He managed to laugh. It was a strangled little noise. "It's probably kinda late ta be callin', huh?"

On habit, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

He should hang up. He should hang up. He should hang up. There was no guarantee. Maybe he was just seeing things even.

A blip on his phone as he was out with his sweet Gato. Tension coiled in his veins, shooting up his spine. It wasn't wrong, a duplicate, no, there was no history with the new one.

Ding

Whatever you do, don't upset Legato.

So, the old contact was the one he now new, which meant....

The Plant was moving before he could think, leach clipped to his hip but he doesn't think, doesn't check she's following, just moves. Where did he arrive? He spoke to Nicholas, Astarion and even Legato, they all arrived in the same place.

He was going to throw up, to panic. He'd avoided when he saw Vash's name - he knew how horrible that was - but this name...

He rounded the corner, looking up the path to the tower. He didn't have his powers - didn't want many of them - nor could he sense like Legato, but the air hang thick with scents he knew. Following them, he felt his anxiety grow, feathers forming on his cheeks, down his spine, sitting awkwardly in his clothes as he swore the scent got stronger and stronger.

There. Padding around almost lost, he held his breath, stepping into view.

"Nicholas D. Wolfwood?" His voice sounded... Hopeful, eyes tearing up as he saw the figure very clearly moving. Dead, perhaps before, but alive once more.

"I-I'm not here to harm you, here." He scrambles to unsheath the knife at his thigh, throwing it towards the other with a limp wrist, a weapon between them for the other to grab. "I.... I am so glad they chose you." Knees hit the ground, lowering his position to offer the other power and control, something he'd once commanded of others he gave so freely.

He unclipped the leash then, gently nudging the pup, ushering her to run off, though she barely went out of arms reach of him, eyeing the new man warily.

"Please, before you run, hear me out?" Never before did he sound so desperate, so eager to be at someone's mercy.

"Hey hey hey sweetheart! Where are you goin'?" Drunk men were the worst, spilling away from the front of the bar Legato is walking past. He's not the only one either, several more men following the first.

The hair on the back of Legato's neck stands up and he tries walking faster to avoid them, to no avail. The group of men trot to catch up, swaying and smelling strongly of booze.

"C'mon pretty thin', don't you wanna hang out wit' us?" The men crowd and Legato's attempts to sidestep them only end up cornering himself against a wall. A flash of fear trips down his spine and he hisses, drawing himself up to try and be intimidating.

"I am not interested, leave me alone." The men chuckle and crowd in closer.

"Playin' hard t' get, eh? C'mon we'll treat ya real nice." He darts forward, trying to simply break past them before things devolved further. It doesn't work, hands closing on his thick winter coat and throwing him back against the wall before he can clear the ring. It's difficult to think, through the surge of panic in his veins. Yes, Nico had taught him how to defend himself and he could throw a punch without breaking his hand. But there are too many of them and only one of him and he's liable to get himself in more trouble trying to defend himself than not.

Wide gold eyes dart around the street, looking for anyone who might be able and willing to help him. There's only one figure there and Legato meets their eyes in a silent plea for assistance-

Only for the hope on his face to die immediately.

It's Wolfwood, not the one who'd adopted him but his own, who would most likely prefer to see him dead. The likelihood of assistance coming from that direction is minimal at best. Legato drops his gaze, trying to find the willpower to swing at the men tugging on his jacket even as he flinches away from their touch. Hopefully they only want to manhandle him a bit and they lose interest quickly and he can run home and hide in Nai's wings where no one else can touch him. Without his powers, it's the best he can hope for.

When he reaches his villa, he notices that it looks as though someone has already settled in. He heaves a short sigh, mentally preparing himself for whatever fresh hell he is about to walk into. He lucked out with his roommates back at Blue Lock; Yukimiya was a mild-mannered guy when he wasn't on the pitch and knew how to read a room, while Nagi just napped and quietly played games on his bed most of the time. Neither of them were much of a bother to him, and he's silently hoping this arrangement will be similar. 

He lets himself in with his key and sees his new roommate, who looks like they were in the middle of something, looking him over with a hint of surprise.

"Hey… I guess we're roommates," he greets flatly, his gaze momentarily drifting down to his feet. He's not great at introductions, and truthfully he'd rather just hurry over to his room and get settled in undisturbed.

✘✘ // " hey , fancy pants . you got any flour ?? " just a question that any unsuspecting passerby might anticipate . but she was in the market for a stockpile . and what better way to stock up . . . than :

s o l i c i t a t i o n . <3

" nevermind , you look flourless . "

Leaving the large tower behind, Sara took off down the hill in the direction of the forests. While this could have potentially pushed her further from where she should be heading, something about the forests in the distance were calling to her. Perhaps it was the tengu blood running through her veins, or the desire to return to something familiar. Either way, it didn't take the tengu long to find herself among the trees once again.

As she strolled through the forest, the sights and sounds reminded her of Chinju Forest back home. Being able to hear the sounds of small animals and birds caused her to relax, and the scent of pine and other trees drew her back to her many strolls. In her limited off time she would leave her barracks and retreat to the forests surrounding Mt. Yogou. In her arms she would carry a bag of treats to feed the many small animals and youkai that made the forests their home.

A sudden cry snapped Sara from her thoughts. Immediately she rushed to the source of the sound, stopping when she came across a man. While he didn't appear to be in danger, she kept her guard up just in case.

There always has been, they think, but it's only gotten worse lately. Nothing they do seems right; everything is wrong and unnatural and uncanny. They don't understand the other children at school or out and about, they don't recognize the words on the pages they're meant to read, they're too cold and too damp and nothing feels right.

There is something under their skin, and it wants out.

They perch on the roof of a little shop and listen to the sound of tools from inside, tap tapping their heels against the wall. When the sounds stop and the man inside comes put for a smoke, they peer over the edge and wrinkle their nose.

"Where's your cross," Zazie hums. Their voice is too flat, there's others missing and they don't know why. "You should get one. It'll make you look bigger to other predators."

That sounds right... ish. Close, but not correct.