lupusxylem | Inbox for sticksandbones

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Inbox for sticksandbones

I will not make this look pretty later, don't believe me it's all a lie

====

INVENTORY:

-The Punisher: Wolfwood's cross gun, normally covered in wrappings.
INFO from the mods on use so I don't forget: The cross-gun will be able to fire regular bullets (regains of these can be handwaved; silvered bullets can be purchased in the bonus AC store) just fine, without any special nerfs. The laser feature will be usable a max of 3 times a month.

-4 Vials of his Drugs(tm)
Info from the mods on use so I don't forget: Wolfwood can start with up to 5 vials of his Lab Drugs. More of these can be regained for the price of a Small Item (a maximum of 5 at once), but they will not work on other player characters for obvious reasons. Their healing ability will also be slightly nerfed to not heal anything instantaneously, but rather over a few minutes.
3/7: All Vials have been used. Will need to purchase replacements if he wants to use them again.
???: Forgot to put the date here but he's purchased more Vials, one has been used to he has 4 currently.

-A lighter

-A carton of cigarettes, more can be purchased/handwaved

-A winter coat that Heimr bullied him into purchasing

-A matching pair of boots for the coat

-A little knit wolf with sunglasses from Elsword.

-A blanket from Livio.

-A handgun with a wolf engraved on the handle.

-A black husky named Angelina

-A belt pouch to carry his regeneration vials with a cross emblazoned into the leather.

-Authentic rosary beads, with beads made from black glass and a heavy, silver cross pendant

-A black leather choker with a silver cross pendant, similar to the rosary

-A whole church(tm)

-A wool knit cat plushie from Pure Vanilla

-3 tomas chicks that currently live in Kiera's barn

-3 londonites

-Wolf skull shaped cufflinks

-A dagger for his "birthday" from Gnosis

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[I mean. It would be nice to just forget Vash ever opened his mouth, but Wolfwood can't exactly do that. He's let the cat out of the bag in more than one way, and he's gotten people drawing weapons on him, and...if Wolfwood's blood pressure rises any higher, he's sure he's going to explode.

He takes the bottle back, holding it loosely by the neck without drinking more for now. He's going to start feeling what he has had pretty soon here, whiskey will do that. But, at the very least, the warmth spreading under his skin he can attribute to the alcohol and nothing else, and that it is helping to dull his frustration. Just a bit, but it's there.]

Yeah. But I don't think you came up here to just sit and play the quiet game.

[Vash came to apologize, sure, but...]

You're right. I can leave, if you want?

[It's the exact opposite of what Wolfwood is asking of him, but it's the first thing his mind goes to. Half of the Punisher's grief this evening has been a result of Vash and his own stupid actions. It's not the first time he's thrown himself on a knife for the sake of a kid, or something close to it. He knows Wolfwood is damn tired of it.

So while he he doesn't regret opening his mouth for his own sake, he'll make an exception for Wolfwood.]

Really, I just came to bring you your stuff. Figured it was the least I could do after everything.

[What Vash maybe doesn't realize is that he's putting the onus on Wolfwood a lot, here, in that he has to be the one to say "stay". Stay, even if the walls he keeps throwing up seem to want otherwise.

He looks down at the bottle he's still holding, about a third of it gone now from the two of them drinking it straight. He thinks back to the other night in the snow, when Vash cried at him to not force him to make the choice to push Wolfwood away, and in that moment, he'd refused.

Here he is again. Having Wolfwood to be the one to say "go", because he's the one who does that. It's easier, right?

Wolfwood takes a deep breath, then exhales heavily.]

Don't. Last thing you need to be doing now is going back out there.

[He doesn't bring up the fact Vash could just go to his own room, of course. It's easier to assume he'd go right back into the lobby where tensions are more than lightly still high.]

[That's the thing about Vash the Stampede. He'll insist that his causes are just. He'll insist that he's only trying to do the right thing, or just give people space. Ultimately, he's only ever used people's own needs as a shield for himself. It's hard to say if it's conscious or unconscious. Knowing Vash, it's just another tool in his arsenal to piss people off and convince them to hold him at arm's length.

Regardless, it is a relief to have Wolfwood encourage him to stay. It doesn't entirely take away the feeling of being a burden, but it lessens it to a degree.]

Okay.

[Wolfwood isn't wrong. If he'd left the room, there was no way he'd go to be alone with his thoughts. He'd pick a fight, or worse, start moping about himself more than he already is. Either way, this is the better option for the both of them.]

Heimr was a little worried about you, you know. You and all your smoking. Told him not to sweat it so much.

What, really? Tch, that old man...

[Wolfwood has scooted himself back on the mattress far enough to lean against the wall now, one leg bent at the knee while the other remains stretched out. He's bandying about the idea of drinking more booze, swirling it around in the bottle, but decides to just keep a tight grip for now. He could also light up again, but that's a categorically awful idea when he's recently had whiskey in his mouth.]

He is smoke. Somebody ought'a tell him to look in a mirror. [He already made that joke AT you, Wolfwood.] Anyway, you'd think he wouldn't care. Me buying is good for business.

[Assuming it even counts as that. He's not sure what the guy even does with the things they bring him, since- to Wolfwood- it just seems like river trash.]

[Maybe it's the alcohol working through his system. Maybe it's the invitation to stay. Either way, Vash finds himself leaning down onto the mattress. He lies flat on his back, arms out wide. His eyes watch the ceiling, taking note of how it already wobbles and tries to spin. It's been awhile since he's drank, and it's showing.

Especially when he laughs at the joke. With no one but Nick to take credit for it, what is he supposed to do.]

Good one.

[He does have his doubts about Wolfwood's vices being good for business, but he also has the decency to keep it to himself.]

He gave the candy to me for free. Seemed worried enough about us both. Almost makes ya feel at home.

[Wolfwood doesn't seem to mind it when Vash flops over onto his bed. Might as well, if he's staying for now. He's watching him too, though it's mostly masked by those ever present shades, hiding his eyes.

It's hard to believe that this guy would be worried about them, two assholes who have done nothing but cause trouble since they got here. He'd be better off not helping them, really. Let nature take its course and all that. But Heimr is not Wolfwood, and we are all the more thankful for it.

Vash mentions the candy, prompting him to look back over at the beds. There is a fucking lot of it too...then he likens it to feeling like home, and it forces Wolfwood's thoughts into a different direction. He feels his chest tighten a little, his tongue looser now due to the booze.

He looks away, instead staring across the room at the far wall now.]

You've met him, I'm guessing.

[Him. Who else.]

[It was a poor choice in words, and Vash knows it. The conversation was bound to go sour, given the direction he's taken it. Wincing and sucking in a breath does nothing to make it go away, and he doubts insisting on talking about something else will either. It needed to be brought up, this strange discrepancy between what their new friend had experienced versus themselves.

It's just a hell of a night to broach the conversation.]

I have. He's... way different than what I remember. [Vash's head angles upward. He squints toward Wolfwood, hoping that the wobble of his gaze will remain at bay long enough to at least see this conversation through.]

It's really him?

[It's really him?

Wolfwood huffs, looking pensive.]

...yeah. It's Livio.

[But the way Wolfwood says that doesn't sound all that happy. Still conflicted, to be sure.]

But either something happened between us fighting him and now, or... [He grits his teeth, shaking his head.] I don't know. He's different.

But it's still him.

[Wolfwood sinks back further against the wall, because now it's his turn to withdraw. There is a part of him still clinging to this story, desperate to keep it untainted and divorced from its reality, but at the same time...without context, Vash is going to be even more lost and confused about it than Wolfwood.

And, thus far, Vash has more reason to know than anybody else. It also helps that he's a couple swigs into the whiskey...]

You...really don't know what he is to me, you know.

[Whatever haunts Wolfwood, Vash doesn't fault him for. There's a grim reality to Livio's presence here, no matter how relieving it might be to know he's alive. Whatever mess they were wrapped up in, the other man was now caught too. It didn't bode well for any of them, least of all their newest companion.]

He's different. But he's still him. [He tries to sound as comforting he can. The truth was that he felt entirely out of his element. Whatever was happening was beyond Vash's ken, something that was no easy feat.

He doesn't dwell on that strangeness for too long, though. As Wolfwood continues to speak, Vash rolls onto his side. He pillows his head beneath an arm and stares up at the other man. If he's willing to speak, then the Plant is willing to listen.]

You can tell me about him, if you want.

[He's never told anyone this story. No one. He's amazed he even still remembers it, but the one thing the Eye couldn't take from him were his memories. At least, not with Wolfwood. Livio seemed to have been a different story. A more "perfect" specimen produces by the doctor's twisted experiments.

Wolfwood sighs deeply, his head dropping back with an audible thunk against the wall.]

I lived at that orphanage. Hopeland. And, one day...a shrimpy kid scared of his own shadow was brought in. Kept me awake at night, crying for his parents. I figured he'd get over it eventually like the rest of us, but he just kept moping around. So...I figured I'd see what his deal was.

[He pauses, the sound of people talking distantly still humming through the floorboards.]

We became friends pretty fast after that. We were kids, so. [He closes his eyes.] He was always following me around. Always trying to keep up.

But then. Wasn't long after that when they showed up. They'd said I'd been "selected". That I was special. I didn't understand what it meant, but everyone seemed so...happy for me. They waved me off like I was getting adopted or something.

[...]

Rollo. I don't need to tell you what happened to me next. Or why I'm...like this.

They did to Livio what they did to me. They made me believe that if I kept jumping when they said how high, he and the other kids would be safe. All a fucking lie.

[Vash's attention remains locked on Wolfwood as he speaks. Most of what he says is a confirmation of what he's already assumed. He wasn't privy to Knives' plans, but details still made it across the sands. Putting two and two together when it came to both the Punisher's latent abilities and his assignment was easy enough to do.

But there was something more that it confirmed. Vash had always been confident when he insisted that Wolfwood was a good person. Anyone who would throw down their life and subject themselves to near torture for an orphanage could be considered bad. But now he sees just how deep that tie goes. Some might have called it selfish. For Vash, it was an act of pure love.]

You were young. And they manipulated that. They manipulated both of you. [He wasn't sure how Wolfwood could have come out with as much free will as he had, while Livio had been a husk of a person. he doesn't want to ask that

He sits up instead, easing closer to Wolfwood. His hand extends, then draws back as if struck by a second thought. Nevertheless, Vash doesn't shy away fully.]

I'm sorry it happened to the two of you. That you couldn't lead a better life. [That bleeding heart of his feels like it's about to rip itself in two.] Are you - I mean, a lot has happened, Wolfwood. Are you okay...?

[For what it's worth, Wolfwood doesn't pull away. He stays right where he is, looking like he's too tired to do much else. He never knew how telling this to someone might make him feel, but it doesn't necessarily feel lighter, or like he's no longer carrying a burden. It's just...someone else knows about it now, he guesses.

As for why he retained his free will...well, that much has everything to do with Wolfwood himself. He, as far as he knows, is the only person who managed to get as far as he did in trying to escape. They too saw his ability to continue to fight back and lash out as an oddity. Perhaps it would have been a failure, had Wolfwood not taken so well to the chemical enhancement. It saved him all the same as it had doomed him.

Vash is right, though. The Eye preys on children who don't know any better, and...Wolfwood honestly has no clue how many more like him could be out there. It's just as likely there are more he simply doesn't know about. Nevertheless, the expected apologies come, and part of him wants to tell Vash to save it. It's too late for sorry, even when he knows Vash feels in some way responsible since it's his brother spearheading such a campaign.

But then Vash asks him if he's okay, and Wolfwood has to force out a laugh. It's dull, and heavy.]

Look at me, blondie. Do I look okay to you?

[He's a fucked up mess is what he is, despite how hard he works to keep up the image of the opposite. It probably doesn't help that Wolfwood is looking at Vash now, his eyes visible over the rim of his glasses.

He takes another swig.]

But it ain't like I can stop. You saw what happened on the sand steamer.

[If the orphanage had been destroyed, it would have been all to fuel Wolfwood's obedience. Nothing more.]

[It isn't just about Nai, not entirely. None of this would have ever happened if not for Vash's role in allowing the Big Fall to happen. There was a chance that Wolfwood might have been born in a happier, safer place. That he and Livio, and the rest of No Man's Land, could have had better lives on a better planet if not for his own hands.

It isn't just the blood of those that died in that Fall that stains his hands. It's everyone who's lived, suffered, and died on the planet afterward.

He at least has the good sense not to say as much. Internalizing every bit of grief and outwardly blaming himself for everyone's suffering was only bound to get his ass kicked. And while Wolfwood might not want pity, and interpret any sort of empathy as such, the least Vash can do is be present.

He pushes himself up with his cybernetic arm, just a little. Just enough to be able to extend the flesh hand, palm facing upward.]

You might not be able to stop, but at least you don't have to go it alone. We're both stuck together, right? Least I can do is help you shoulder some of that burden, Nick.

[Vash carefully tempering his response here is wise, though given the fact that Wolfwood is tipsy by this point, it's hard to say what his reaction to it might be. He hasn't shown himself to be a belligerent drunk, at the very least. Probably because he carries plenty of that anger with him when sober, he doesn't need to be drunk for that to come out. No, the liquor makes the words come more easily that otherwise he would have kept close to his chest. Vash is hearing things he never thought he'd tell a soul, but with Livio here...it makes it a little harder to keep secrets. And now that Vash has let the cat out of the bag in regards to knowing Wolfwood's original intentions? He may as well be looking at him with his heart completely bare.

...well. Almost. There are some parts still locked away, parts that are slowly being coaxed to the surface little by little.

He never wants to be pitied, no. But to be understood?

...

He looks over to Vash, and his outstretched hand. Then...Wolfwood shifts so he can reach out and take it, just for a brief moment.]

Yeah.

...I'm glad you're here. Vash.

[Sorry, Wolfwood. Once his hand is near Vash's own, he threads their fingers together. It's a gesture that's far more intimate than he'd normally be able to stomach, but given their previous resolutions and paired with the alcohol, his good sense is starting to trickle away. Left with nothing to hold them back, Vash stares down at their connected digits, watching as his thumb scrapes against the side of the other man's hand without really thinking about it. He's far too busy mapping the feeling of Wolfwood's palm against his own, after all.

Too close, his mind warns. Pull back. But for once that sinister, self-sabotaging voice is muffled beneath the faint buzz of booze and good companionship. Regret would come later, but not yet. Not while he's here.

His eyes flick upward, blue meeting brown with an almost boyish hesitation. How long has his face felt so hot. How long has his heart been fluttering like this. And above all, how long has it been since he's been able to hold onto someone for so long.]

I'm not going anywhere. It's a promise.

[Ah. For as tired as he is, and as inebriated as he is, Wolfwood somehow wasn't expecting Vash to do that. It's kindof the same feeling initially of like when you go to give someone a high-five but they come in to shake your hand instead, or vice versa. It's a feeling that only lasts for a moment before Wolfwood is the one feeling the sudden strain of his heart beating too fast, like he'd just run a marathon or something. His face was already hot thanks to the liquor, but now it feels like he's? Dying? In a way he's never quite felt before.

It makes him feel like he should let go. He should let go. But...Vash starts to stroke the edge of his hand with his thumb, and it's like he's locked into place. He kindof realizes, in that moment, that aside from the embrace he shared with Livio a few days prior, he hasn't shared contact like this with someone in years. Even something as simple as holding someone's hand...he hasn't, not since he and Livio were still at the orphanage.

And maybe it's the booze, or maybe it's something else unwanted bubbling to the surface, but he can feel the space behind his eyes ache. His eyes sting, and for a terrifying moment he's actually afraid he's going to start crying or something because that's what it feels like. Why? Is it because he's drunk? They're literally just sitting here, what the actual fuck.

He exhales on a shaky breath and glances away, though he hasn't let Vash's hand go just yet. If anything, he just curls their fingers together tighter. Maybe if he were sober he wouldn't have allowed this to happen, but oops. His subconscious desires the closeness and therefore, he doesn't let go. He can't. So, childishly, he hangs on.]

Good. Cause I'll kick your ass if you try to leave without me.

[Vash's eyes widen just slight, as that quivering breath leaves Wolfwood. Something sharp grips his chest, claws like molten lashes that leave him feeling gutted and exposed. His palm itches with a need he doesn't know how to reconcile — to pull Wolfwood in close and never let go, never let him go. At the same time, something in his mind screams to run far, far away. He said he wouldn't hold Wolfwood at arms length, but that doesn't mean he should pull him in like this

And yet -

Vash sits up properly, careful to keep their hands connected. He reaches out, lamenting that he has only the cybernetic to use. With the unfailing, frigid air, it leaves the digit cold and unfeeling. Wolfwood deserves something better, warmer than this. Than Vash. But this is what they have, and right now, he isn't about to let go.

His thumb brushes over Wolfwood's cheek, grazing along the bone. Then it slides further, into his hair. Something in the back of his mind longs to feel it, whether it's soft or coarse beneath his touch. He swallows it and focuses on coaxing him forward, forward, forward.]

C'mere, Nick. It's okay.

[It feels...surreal, what's happening right now. Like maybe he could just be imagining it because he drank too much, or something. He's lost track of how much of this bottle he's drained purely on his own, and coupled with Vash, it's not even half full anymore more than likely. He's kindof forgotten it now in the moment, it doesn't really matter anymore, even though he's still sort of loosely gripping the bottle by the neck. And also they're holding hands?? They're holding hands now, that's what they're doing. This isn't a friendly handshake or anything like that, hands are being held and Wolfwood simply does not know what to do with it.

As it turns out, Vash is a bloodhound for someone having an emotion other than him, not that Wolfwood is doing a stellar job of hiding it. Even if he can mask his expression behind his sunglasses, the rest he couldn't even if he wanted to. not with Vash this close. The way his breath shakes, the way his shoulders are sort of hunched like he's trying to curl up into a ball, all of it compounding together into a little miserable cocktail. Not that it's Vash's fault, granted. Wolfwood just doesn't know how to handle it. Didn't know how to handle it with Livio, either.

So imagine the kind of overdrive his already misfiring brain goes into when Vash not only reaches towards him, but touches his face with that cool, metal hand of his. It's a literal shock to his system to feel the firmness there against his cheek, his eyes darting across Vash's face, bewildered. His heart, now lodged firmly in his throat, beats so hard and fast it feels like he's going to choke on it, because now that same hand has found its way into the back of his hair, flashing him with a brief memory of being sprawled in a messy tangle on the inn couch when he was sickeningly high and Vash was trying to help him down from it. There's a whole bunch of guilt and bad feelings he could untangle from how he behaved during all of that, except the part his mind chooses to laser focus on- to remember- is that Vash was petting his hair the whole time. This is not a new thing.

He's not sure how he ends up just...sort of. Collapsing forward into Vash's arms like he does. It happens involuntarily, less by his own force and more by him lacking the strength or the wherewithal to pull away. He's completely stunned by it, and now that he's here, Wolfwood realizes that he couldn't possibly let go even if he tried.

His free hand shaking, a sort of tenuous tremble like he isn't sure if this is okay, he reaches out to place it against the back of Vash's shoulders. And then, as if that simple act is enough to break the dam because he has nothing else to lose at this point, he loses his grip on the whiskey bottle and abandons it in favor of grabbing for him with his other arm too. His hold starts as tentative, barely there resting against the back of his jacket, before he finds himself fisting the material like he had when they fought out in the snow the other night. Wherever the bottle ended up, be it mercifully upright and unspilled, or turned over onto the bed or worse, it doesn't matter to him now.

Wolfwood clutches onto Vash like a lifeline, curling up against the blonde now instead of himself. His jacket is so thick and wide even just on Vash himself that it nearly plunges Wolfwood immediately into darkness when he buries his face against his shoulder, but he doesn't really care. It's clear judging by the way he's breathing that he's still fighting back tears despite no longer really being in a position to pretend he's okay anymore, his shoulders trembling as he holds onto Vash so tightly he's genuinely afraid he might be hurting him.]

[There's a distant thump of the bottle, landing somewhere that Vash can't fully bring himself to care about. He feels a little guilty, just because of how nice Heimr had been with the whole thing. Of course, he hadn't mentioned it was the best Whiskey he had in the cabinet, but the label had still looked nice enough. He probably shouldn't waste it but -

but Wolfwood is clinging to him, and Vash has far more important things to think about. He coaxes his fingers through that hair. The fingers twined with Wolfwood's finally release, but it's solely to properly embrace the man. His now free hand swaps with the cybernetic — partially because he wants to feel, but also because it simply felt impersonal otherwise. The cybernetic then comes to rest against the small of his back, kneading circles into the skin through all the fabric separating them.]

You've gone through so much. I don't think I could ever understand it all. But you're not alone.

[It's the one blessing this strange world has given them. Their arrivals had only been separated by mere days. Not once had they really had to go it alone since winding up here. And when being faced with everything they had, it had been nice to have a shoulder to lay his head on, in the grand scheme. Even Vash, predisposed to a lonely road, had to admit he had appreciated it. He couldn't imagine being alone here.

He squeezes Nick just that little bit tighter as he thinks about if. The last thing he wanted was to tempt fate into trying to rip him away. Now that he had it, now that his heart was opening to the idea, he wants to cling to him. And given their positions, there's no reason not to.

His head lowers, nose grazing against Wolfwood's hair, then down to rest near his ear. It's an intimate position, one that maybe he'll regret later. For right now, it feels right.]

I'm here. I'm here.

[That's probably where Vash is winning the most favor, here. He's not saying "I understand your pain, I've been there", but instead telling him that he doesn't have to suffer through it alone. His entire life, however short in the grand scheme, he's had to walk alone. He's killed countless people whether they were truly criminals or completely innocent, all in the effort of chasing not his own happiness, but a future for the children who still had lives on this world to live. He had given up on having a life a long time ago when he sold his soul away to the devil. He had been ready to accept the fact that he would never have a peaceful life, and that he would probably die young when his luck finally ran out. Might as well go out with a bang...right?

But then he finds himself in this place, where the problems of home- while not entirely gone- are in a strange sort of limbo where he can compartmentalize them in ways he never could before. Vash is here, Livio is here and alive, and...it's all nearly too much for Wolfwood to handle. It's part of why he'd tried to just leave on that first day, hoping that maybe he would walk long enough to snap himself back to reality, only to wake up to himself dying in the desert or something. It would track that this whole thing ended up being a dying hallucination.

...it all feels so real, though. He's drunk sure, but he's plenty sober enough to be aware of what's going on. Vash is holding him like one might a lover, and he's not compelled to jerk away and push him off like he might have been in the past. In fact, the longer they embrace, the more that bitter sorrow wells up in his chest, that realization that this isn't something he deserves. He can't...really have this.

Wolfwood exhales a second time, and this time he can't hold himself together any longer. He blinks hard, feeling the tears he was fighting back from earlier spill over into the collar of Vash's jacket. Even when he was being held prisoner and fighting for his life, he never cried. Not from the misery, not from the pain.

But right now, where only Vash can be privy to it, he heaves a sob into his shoulder.]

[There's a reason why Vash makes a point of not thinking too hard. When he does, it's only bound to spiral. He knows he's setting himself up for a cruel and bracing reality check. One day, they'll surely get thrown from this place. When they wake up in the sand, they'll have to go back to who they were. Truly it would be easier on the both of them to not pursue this, to not erase the careful lines they've drawn for themselves within the sand.

They're two sides of a coin, in that regard. The people they are back home, the paths they've chosen — those don't allow for others to walk beside them. Yet somehow, this world had broken not just Wolfwood free, but Vash as well.

It was dangerous. It was going to end in disaster in someway. But Vash can't deny that he feels right holding Wolfwood like this. There's always been an attraction, an idiotic desire to be close no matter what. He's always admired Wolfwood's willingness to throw himself into things, his conviction when it comes to protecting others. And as a result, he's grown used to swallowing down those feelings.

But not now. Not as Wolfwood cries into him, and Vash feels himself weep in kind. It's okay, he tells himself, that he's shedding a tear. They aren't for himself, but for the man coiled within his arms. He repeats his words like a mantra, a whispered chant just to remind Wolfwood that he isn't fighting alone, that Vash hasn't given up or written him off.]

I've got you. I'm here.

[The words are thicker now, slurred with both the tears he's shed and those that he's biting back, but they still carry the same strength of resolve as before.]

[By this point, Wolfwood is very drunk. He can feel that usual heaviness he feels when he's inebriated, but it honestly probably wouldn't have changed much about his reaction here. It's only served to loosen him up enough to allow this, because otherwise he'd have felt some sort of pathological need to keep pushing Vash away, sabotaging himself at every turn out of some perceived reason to not be happy. People like them don't have enough time on this planet to live, nor do they deserve it. And though Vash may live tens of hundreds of years longer than Wolfwood ever will, that sentiment remains the same.

But in this world, other than Livio, Vash is all he's got. He's the only person who knows him now inside and out. There's really very little left to uncover, save maybe the fact that Vash isn't the only one feeling like he doesn't want to let Vash go. Not just now, but...ever.

He's unable to speak for a little while, simply weeping against him like he never thought he'd be capable of. It sort of just bleeds out of him uncontrollably, and he knows later he'll be ashamed of it, but right now he just simply lacks the energy to care. It seems that Vash is in the same boat, though whether his own tears are sympathetic or something else entirely...well. That's not for him to speculate, he doesn't think.

It hurts so much. He truly wishes things could be different, yet it feels like ever since he was first born, he's been predetermined to be miserable. He isn't meant to be happy, because that wasn't the kind of world he was born into.

For right now, he lets Vash hold him. He holds Vash. And when he does finally find his voice again, it's terribly thick and muffled and he wouldn't be blamed if he didn't actually hear what Wolfwood was asking of him, but nevertheless...]

...stay. Will you...?

[There isn't much Vash can do but let Wolfwood weep. Each gentle touch brings what comfort it can, but he can't siphon away his agony like he could the Plants. For as much as he loves humanity, he could never bring it a fragment of the comfort he could bring his own kind. Rather, he had only ever been an arbiter of misery for the humans he beloved so much.

At least this was different. Together they'd lanced a wound that had been festering for Wolfwood, and now it was finally being purged. And while Vash couldn't help the process, he would provide whatever support he needed. It was no different than when they fought together, watching one another's backs as their guns blazed.

Admittedly, he doesn't understand the words that the Punisher offers, but at least he's pretty sure he gets the gist of it. The hand in Wolfwood's hair slides back down, finding the span of his jaw and cradling it. He tilts the man's head up just enough, so that their eyes may meet. His own still shimmer with tears unshed, but he finds strength nonetheless.]

I will. I'll stay with you. Promise, Nick.

[And just like that, Wolfwood sags with relief. As if he actually thought Vash would try to leave, or something. He is...very atypically emotional right now, okay. He struggles to hold onto his emotions on a good day, but right now he feels like he's spiraling out of control, and Vash is the only thing keeping him grounded. And now that they've separated enough to look at each other, that much is abundantly clear.

The look in Wolfwood's eyes is deeply sorrowful, more than even he himself realizes. His face is streaked with tears and he looks like a mess, but to his credit he isn't trying to hide it. It's there for Vash to see, warts and all. And then Vash's hand is touching his face again, and like a feral cat reluctantly accepting affection, he leans into his palm.

It's okay to want this. It's okay to just...let it happen, he tells himself. Maybe he'll feel differently when he's sober. Maybe he won't.]

Thanks.

[He mutters lowly, sniffing loudly. God, he feels disgusting.]

Sorry. M'fuckin'...gross.

[And now Vash's beloved jacket is very much slightly Damp.]

Inbox for sticksandbones

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