tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; August 16th, afternoon
Rating; G
Characters; Knives (

mildlyreckless)
Summary; Knives and Vash reconcile out in the Xanadu. ...We hope.
Log;
Vash contentedly made his way through the garden, taking in the sights he hadn't laid eyes on in over ten months. It was still strange that so little had changed here when so much had gone on for him. It had been a roller coaster of a nigh-year for him. But then, that's how things had always been back home. The craziness had a familiar rhythm, and it was comforting.

There had been so many things he'd missed during his stay in the City that hadn't even seemed so dramatic until he went back to them again. Desert nights under the stars and moons, dusty bars, people living the simple life in small towns in stark contrast to the constant scramble of the big cities...

The familiar mental ambiance that told him his sisters were nearby; watching him and the humans he lived alongside.

Home had finally become a real home for the Plants. It had been amazing to see. The world he had hoped for, where humans and his siblings thrived alongside one another, seemed to have finally blossomed.

But no matter how good and comfortable home was, it was still hard knowing that Wolfwood and Knives would never get to see it for themselves except for through the ripples of the fountain.

Vash had grown accustomed to loss over the years, but it didn't stop it from leaving an ache in his heart. Part of him wondered if it would have been easier to accept if he wasn't being toggled between two worlds and finding no way to really connect the two. His mind trailed to Tessla, who was still in the City, alive but doomed back home anyway, and then to Rem, who had gone back home anyway. There had never been any hope of them seeing home anyway, even during the darker years.

Completely lost in thought, Vash was rather jolted when he felt Knives nearby. Now that they both had their lives back, it was nearly impossible to miss one another's presence. Vash had a feeling Knives was still rather sour with him, but he was still curious to see his twin after ten months. The last time he remembered seeing Knives, his brother was carrying him to find someone to heal him. ...Vash wondered if this time around, Knives would send him to a healer in a different fashion.

He quietly crept through the garden, thoroughly soaked by the rain at this point, and found Knives pretty much how he'd left him in the City. He wasn't entirely sure that Knives wouldn't try to kill him then and there if he said something, so he just stood and watched him through water-soaked tendrils of hair, knowing Knives could sense him anyway.

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Knives wasn't quite sure what to make of the past few days. First, Vash had gotten his life back, a fact that, despite how it should gladden him, irritated him to no end. They had killed each other for a reason, and they were perfectly content with it. But upon realizing that his brother's heart beat again, those reasons were apparently thrown out the window.

And it hurt.

Then, to add more insult to injury, Vash had disappeared back to Gunsmoke. Or was it No Man's Land now? It didn't matter. It was a home Knives never knew, and would never know, even if he did manage to return.

The elder twin had been in Xanadu for over an hour already, soaking in the rain and cold that would make ill any person, but not a plant; it took Vash's presence to snap him out of his thoughts. He didn't turn his head in his brother's direction, though—he simply stood with his hands in his pockets, staring down at the overflowing stream not a foot away.

But he did call out.

"Vash."

"Yo," Vash said after a brief hesitation. He wasn't terribly sure what he should do next, so he just stood there in silent company.

As he stood there, all the things he and his brother had been through since arriving in the City ran through his head. It was a shame that things had turned so bitter so quickly. For the first time since they were children, they had been able to actually get along peacefully. They could even go out together and not have the experience dissolve into a shouting match, during which one or both ended up exploding into their other forms.

He hoped they hadn't lost that for good.

"...Has Tessla been taking good care of you while I was gone?"

Knives took a deep breath, wondering briefly about any possible outcomes of this meeting, and decided nothing was going to make him feel any worse about his relations with his brother.

"She has," he replied curtly. "She, at least, assured me she would never leave again."

He remained with his back to Vash. He wasn't ready to look at his twin yet, not until he was certain he wouldn't run him through with his blade. Tessla wouldn't forgive him if he tried to kill Vash again, regardless of his sentiments at the time.

Instead, Knives focused on the rain, on the pelting cold. The storm was gathering strength, but he didn't care. It was a treat, the rain. It was a blessing in a life of drought.

Vash looked down at the ground sadly. Knives really was sensitive like that. He didn't like it when his family left him, even if-- no, probably especially if it was Vash.

"...I'm sorry, Knives," Vash said sincerely. "I didn't mean to leave you like that. And I can't guarantee it won't happen again, but I promise you, if I ever do leave again, I'll always come back."

He didn't normally make promises like that, but his heart was in this one. He'd already told quite a few people the same thing, and he meant it. As far as he was concerned, the City was as much his home now as No-Man's-Land was, and he never abandoned his home for good. Not if he could help it.

If there's one thing Knives had learned over the years, it was that he couldn't trust people, not even family. When they were young and traversing through the desert alone, he thought he could put his faith in Vash, but he'd been wrong. A hundred and fifty years later, he thought he could depend on his sisters for power and support, but then too, he'd been wrong.

"Can you keep your promise this time?" Knives asked, glancing over his shoulder at the red-clad man mere yards away. "Do I really have your word this time?"

Vash took a couple of steps forward and extended his right hand; his real hand; the hand he'd used to decimate a City; and reached for a handshake.

"You have my word," he said with somber eyes. "I promised I wouldn't leave you alone."

He faced his brother, looked him square in the eye—but did not shake his hand.

"You should thank Legato for my decent mood," he said evenly. "He bartered with the gods for the return of my life. If it hadn't turned out that way..." Knives didn't know how to finish that sentence because he didn't know what he'd do if Vash had returned and he was still dead. His fists clenched tighter in his pockets, and he felt the familiar surge of power ripple up his left arm, but it remained untransformed.

"Tessla's going to want to spend time with you now that you're back," the elder twin said instead. "I'll send her out to your apartment with Elendira."

"And Wolfwood bartered for mine," Vash said in an equally leveled tone, keeping his hand outstretched. "I didn't ask anyone to give me my life back, I didn't ask to be taken back home, and I wouldn't have asked for any of those things. So hold it against me if you like, but that's your choice and no fault of mine."

Vash locked eyes with Knives and combed through what he saw there in his mind. How could they be so close and yet so far apart? People who saw them standing there face-to-face could probably say they vaguely resembled mirror images of one another; lining up with features in reverse, even in opinion.

"...I don't want Elendira near my place," he said finally. "I'll come by and get Tessla myself."

Vash was right, and as much as Knives wanted to blame him for everything (in much the same way he'd blamed him back home), he could not. So, after a moment's hesitation, he reached out to grasp his brother's hand.

"You're right," Knives acknowledged—then continued with: "If Elendira gets near your apartment, she might attack Chapel. And you are not setting foot within sight of our ship. I'll send Kururu instead."

Vash squeezed Knives' hand in agreement and then released him, reluctant to make contact with him any longer than he had to.

"If she or any of your servants try to get near him, I'll engage them myself," he said, an edge to his tone. "And that's fine, Kururu's welcome to come anytime she likes."

"Then there you have it." Knives returned his hand to his pocket, and suddenly the rain was no longer soothing. He wanted to return home, to sit at his organ and just play and play until he could no longer hear the rain against the hull of the ship.

He turned and started away from Vash, not intending to speak any longer. He'd said all that was necessary already.

[ooc: Holy crap I'm so sorry for the late tag. I was completely distracted by something else. D8]

Vash watched Knives go, a sinking feeling creeping into his gut. There really wasn't anything left to say. After a hundred and fifty-some years, it had all been said, one way or another.

So Vash stared at the flooding stream as Knives walked away, not really caring to seek more company at the moment anyway.

...But...

"Do you hate me?" he wondered aloud, not really caring if Knives responded or not.

Knives froze where he stood.

Hate him? Vash? ...No. Vash was, if not marginally less, then just as important as Tessla. They were siblings, family—they were what Knives fought for, killed for, died for. Sure, there were times when he was angry at his brother to the point of wanting to kill him, but...

There was silence for a long time as Knives contemplated his answer. Finally, without looking at Vash, he said in a very clear voice:

"I do not hate you. I hate what you represent."

"Back at you," Vash replied mildly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. As long as they could coexist, that was all that mattered to him.

Really, after all they'd been through, coexisting and getting along enough that they could meet and talk like this was a big step.

"Later then," Vash said, raising his hand without turning to look at Knives once.

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