#tornticket

They’re back to where they started.

Figures.

They weren’t able to find Vash after they were separated. They were glad to have found their home — or what’s left of it — but it’s still… upsetting.

They were starting to get used to living with a fa — with others again.

But. Vash will be back here, sooner or later. He knows where Chara will go when they’re frightened. They just need to have faith.

… for now, they focus on collecting flowers. The cold has finally been broken enough to where the germaniums have started to bloom. Red, purple, blue — they’re nice looking flowers, and Chara could grow them easily if they collect the seeds… they could show Vash, or Miss Aerith, or Watanuki…

But, given the nature of the town he figures someone there might be able to tell him something. Someone like the younger Knives would probably leave a lasting impression.

Plus, he's heard something about a woman there that will sell items from your home world; Wolfwood doesn't think those damn wanted posters came from nothing. Looked like it was the same sort of paper for his own Vash's wanted posters: cheap, worn, torn. Barely even a proper photograph there, no color to it.

...Still, kinda weird to just be selling wanted posters. But he's duped enough people to know a lot of them can fall for any scam if you dress it up as nicely as possible.

He leaves his motorcycle chained to a post near a few boars snoozing in the shade. No one seems particularly disturbed by his appearance, evidently considering him just another normal visitor from the city. It eases just the slightest bit of tension. Wolfwood follows the sandy streets, taking shortcuts between homes, until he reaches a much more quiet part of town.

"Afternoon ma'am," he says as he approaches the stall. He's rolling a toothpick in his teeth. Doctor told him to cut back on smoking. "Mind if I ask ya some questions, or do I gotta buy from ya first?"

With where it sits between the city proper and the desert dunes that so closely resemble home the Mistwood seems to be the place that continues to see Vash crashing through it, wood splintering and enormous trees marked by his impact, not for the first time.

He doesn't make it far; the last time he'd smashed a bike against one of the huge trunks had been ages ago, on the opposite end of the forest, so close to where it gave way to sand and rock. This time he hardly makes it past city limits before he's free-falling back to the hard earth. He just barely clears the tree-line, but that doesn't stop twigs and branches snagging his feathers on the way down. caught in the mass of them or yanking them free in equal measure.

Dirt and rock and foliage get kicked up into the air as Vash makes impact, amalgam of feathers and wings unable to soften the blow before his body lands shoulder-first into the crater of his own making, knocking all of the breath out of him. Pain ricochets down his spine, making him gasp with it, but it's nothing in comparison to the white hot pain that had already been zipping through his nerves the moment he'd fled from his own home.

Just as Vash had felt when he'd first caught sight of himself in that mirror, nothing but the colour of his hair had changed; that bone-deep exhaustion, having steadily grown in the past weeks from his own negligence of himself, hadn't left him. He feels like he's burning up from the inside out, a dying star, each nerve singed. Black flows freely from his nose, the corners of his eyes, lines like cracks in marble creeping up his jawline.

"I'm sorry," he gasps to himself, so quiet it's a wonder even he can hear himself, voice layered overtop of one another. For not having control of himself. For being the monster that he is. For breaking not only his promise to Wolfwood to stay, but the one to not burn himself up again as well. "I'm sorry."

Welcome to sunshiney Isola Radiale, Knives!

You will be housed in APARTMENT 302!

You will retain your enhanced strength, though only enough to barely lift a car.

You will also be given your Plant bodysuit, and a pair of off-brand crocs.

He'll be dropped!

He's been picking at the flowers sprouting from him for a while, now. It hurts, but he doesn't care about that - he just wants to get rid of them. He's been uncharacteristically silent ever since his conversations this morning went south, ill intentions spilling from his mind to mouth with no filter between. Those are meant to be kept to himself, concealed by no small amount of lies and flattery to keep himself generally liked. The only reason he can account for this switch is the buds blooming across his form, a recent development that has made his usual performance fall flat.

The worst part is that it hasn't just been about other people. Someone asked him how he was doing this morning, and he answered honestly. He never wants to do that again.

Seeing someone staring however, his mind unhelpfully nudges him to say something.

His wings work at least, but he can't do much of anything else. Heart Render is nowhere to be found, instead replaced by a useless plank of wood that had been promptly tossed into that massive pit.

Michael has spoken to no one since he's arrived. People seem happy enough to give him a wide berth. He's traveled far from his assigned quarters, off into a neighboring ward, and he's found himself in what appears to be a more residential area. He passes a café with its lights off and curtains drawn.

A stray cat scampers past him and makes it a scant few yards until it skids to a stop in front of the only other figure there on the street, barely illuminated by the lights along the sidewalk. The feline arches, hisses, and darts off into an alleyway.

Curious, the dragon asks: "What are you waiting for?" And then, "Humans are suspicious of lone figures in the dark."

Make that two, now. This one strikes an interesting silhouette.

Welcome back to scenic Isola Radiale, Knives!

You’ll be staying in THE ARK.

You’ll retain everything you had during your previous stay.

Enjoy your stay!