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sticksandbones2024-05-03 12:02 pm
oleaeuropaea) wrote in sticksandbones2024-05-03 12:02 pm
Relent or Resist
Who: Vash the Stampede and YOU
What: Something strange is happening to Vash
When: Mid April to Mid May
Where: Throughout the grove
Warnings: Transformation horror/trauma. Finger/nail trauma in prompt 2, please be mindful!
[It starts as aches in his joints. To him, it feels not unlike the growing pains in his early years. Aging rapidly over the course of several years was, in a word, painful. It leaves him wondering if this is just another phase of that plan. The only other Independent he knew, aside from his brother, had met an untimely end. Anything else he knew had come from strictly lived experience. Grappling with the strange bumps and curves along the way had just become second nature.
Hence why, at first, he thinks nothing of it.
For his loved ones, the changes likely aren’t noticeable at first. His ankles have always shown a little in his pants, after all — though now he’s coming scandalously close to showing a little calf. He’s also always looked lanky, even if it’s not quite the case. So if his waist seems just that little bit narrower, who’s to say? Plus, he’s always changing out outfits now. The boots he’s wearing probably just gave him that extra few centimeters.
For others, ones that don’t see him every single day, the changes might be more obvious. He looks taller, more willowy. And as he bends over in the middle of town to rub at an aching knee, you might just catch the way his ears have grown just the faintest bit pointier.
Of course, if caught staring, Vash might just wave with a bright smile. Did his teeth always look so sharp?]
Is something wrong? Have I got something on my face?
ii. You're the War that I Wage — End of April, CW: FINGER/NAIL TRAUMA
[Vash is sitting in the Inn, eating breakfast when there’s a tink upon the table. There’s no warning, nor is there any pain. When he looks down, blood drips gradually onto the table, circling where the nail of his middle finger has fallen off.]
Uh - that’s new. [He laughs, a fluttering noise that sounds only a little nervous at the edges. He stands quickly, aiming for the paper towels. The less mess he makes in a public area, the better, right?
Unfortunately, by the time he reaches them, the ring and index fingers have suffered similar injuries. It leaves him a hell of a sight, right hand now streaked with blood, as he tries to frantically wrap his hand and clean up the mess.]
Bad time for the doctor to be gone! Way to go, body!
iii. Can you change me? — Beginning of May
[By the time the middle of the month rolls around, Vash looks altogether different. The height has become more obvious. The nails on his hand have been replaced with sharp claws. And yet somehow, someway, Vash just keeps smiling. Those that know him know just how false the grin is — it’s too wide, showing off sharpened teeth — and it never reaches those now alien looking eyes.
The changes aren’t just physical, either. With the shifts in his vision, the world has begun to look a lot different. It leaves him stumbling into doorways, or tripping over otherwise obvious objects. Every time, he’ll look up with a sheepish smile and wave off any concerns, even as he sits with his face in the grass or wipes away the blood from a busted nose.]
Oh, don’t go worryin’ about me! It’s all okay.
[He’ll probably try to walk away after that. And then promptly trip again.]
iv. From the Monster You’ve Made Me — Mid May
[Despite doing his best to bluster through whatever changes have begun to consume him, there comes a point where he simply can’t do so any longer. Namely, it happens one day when he’s working on Ourania’s statue. He strips off his jacket, aiming to lay it carefully over the Moon Goddess’s lap. Unfortunately, with his altered depth perception, he’s been dropping things more often than not lately, and it winds up splayed out against the ground.
No matter. It’s simple enough to bend down and pick it up, right?
Unfortunately, as he does so, a horrific tearing sensation rips itself along not one, but both shoulderblades. The bulge of fabric will become immediately obvious as something begins to wrench itself out from beneath his skin. And taken by surprise as he is, Vash can only scream as the pain erupts through him.
He collapses in that instant, crumbling to his knees as the waves of pain radiate through him. With each agonizing inch, fresh nerves seem to tear and come alight. He tries to reach back and rip at whatever seems to be attacking him, because surely that’s what it is, but to no avail.
He’ll have to wallow in the dirt on his face until someone comes to help, it would seem.]
What: Something strange is happening to Vash
When: Mid April to Mid May
Where: Throughout the grove
Warnings: Transformation horror/trauma. Finger/nail trauma in prompt 2, please be mindful!
[It starts as aches in his joints. To him, it feels not unlike the growing pains in his early years. Aging rapidly over the course of several years was, in a word, painful. It leaves him wondering if this is just another phase of that plan. The only other Independent he knew, aside from his brother, had met an untimely end. Anything else he knew had come from strictly lived experience. Grappling with the strange bumps and curves along the way had just become second nature.
Hence why, at first, he thinks nothing of it.
For his loved ones, the changes likely aren’t noticeable at first. His ankles have always shown a little in his pants, after all — though now he’s coming scandalously close to showing a little calf. He’s also always looked lanky, even if it’s not quite the case. So if his waist seems just that little bit narrower, who’s to say? Plus, he’s always changing out outfits now. The boots he’s wearing probably just gave him that extra few centimeters.
For others, ones that don’t see him every single day, the changes might be more obvious. He looks taller, more willowy. And as he bends over in the middle of town to rub at an aching knee, you might just catch the way his ears have grown just the faintest bit pointier.
Of course, if caught staring, Vash might just wave with a bright smile. Did his teeth always look so sharp?]
Is something wrong? Have I got something on my face?
ii. You're the War that I Wage — End of April, CW: FINGER/NAIL TRAUMA
[Vash is sitting in the Inn, eating breakfast when there’s a tink upon the table. There’s no warning, nor is there any pain. When he looks down, blood drips gradually onto the table, circling where the nail of his middle finger has fallen off.]
Uh - that’s new. [He laughs, a fluttering noise that sounds only a little nervous at the edges. He stands quickly, aiming for the paper towels. The less mess he makes in a public area, the better, right?
Unfortunately, by the time he reaches them, the ring and index fingers have suffered similar injuries. It leaves him a hell of a sight, right hand now streaked with blood, as he tries to frantically wrap his hand and clean up the mess.]
Bad time for the doctor to be gone! Way to go, body!
iii. Can you change me? — Beginning of May
[By the time the middle of the month rolls around, Vash looks altogether different. The height has become more obvious. The nails on his hand have been replaced with sharp claws. And yet somehow, someway, Vash just keeps smiling. Those that know him know just how false the grin is — it’s too wide, showing off sharpened teeth — and it never reaches those now alien looking eyes.
The changes aren’t just physical, either. With the shifts in his vision, the world has begun to look a lot different. It leaves him stumbling into doorways, or tripping over otherwise obvious objects. Every time, he’ll look up with a sheepish smile and wave off any concerns, even as he sits with his face in the grass or wipes away the blood from a busted nose.]
Oh, don’t go worryin’ about me! It’s all okay.
[He’ll probably try to walk away after that. And then promptly trip again.]
iv. From the Monster You’ve Made Me — Mid May
[Despite doing his best to bluster through whatever changes have begun to consume him, there comes a point where he simply can’t do so any longer. Namely, it happens one day when he’s working on Ourania’s statue. He strips off his jacket, aiming to lay it carefully over the Moon Goddess’s lap. Unfortunately, with his altered depth perception, he’s been dropping things more often than not lately, and it winds up splayed out against the ground.
No matter. It’s simple enough to bend down and pick it up, right?
Unfortunately, as he does so, a horrific tearing sensation rips itself along not one, but both shoulderblades. The bulge of fabric will become immediately obvious as something begins to wrench itself out from beneath his skin. And taken by surprise as he is, Vash can only scream as the pain erupts through him.
He collapses in that instant, crumbling to his knees as the waves of pain radiate through him. With each agonizing inch, fresh nerves seem to tear and come alight. He tries to reach back and rip at whatever seems to be attacking him, because surely that’s what it is, but to no avail.
He’ll have to wallow in the dirt on his face until someone comes to help, it would seem.]
no subject
The apology comes, and he's genuinely surprised that Vash gives it. Not that he hasn't apologized for all of this before, it's just...it seems like there's some latent bad feelings there that he hasn't fully gotten over.
He gets that. He does.
Wolfwood lifts a hand, reaching it out towards Vash. His hand ends up landing on that shock of blonde hair, resting his palm there as he brushes his bangs out of his eyes. They're so strange, now. No longer that vibrant blue that he's used to, but...different, faceted as they are.]
I ain't gonna tell you I told you so. I'm pretty sure you've been beatin' yourself up over it plenty.
[Then, with his other arm reaching out, he helps Vash sit forward, letting him slump into his side. He holds him like this as he brushes the dirt and semi-dried blood off the back of his thermal, his jacket blessedly saved from being destroyed since they removed it in time.]
But if you're worried 'bout me leavin' over this or some shit, don't. I ain't goin' anywhere. Haven't you gotten that through your thick skull by now?
no subject
But it doesn't come. He's still just at home here.]
You can say that. [Beating himself up and neglecting himself were practically synonymous at this point, weren't they? As much as he'd turned Wolfwood's tried and true words over within his head ("You deserve to eat. And laugh."), it hadn't helped.] And I wouldn't blame you if you did.
[Maybe he'd accepted it a few weeks ago. But things were different now. It wasn' just a matter of Vash running off like an idiot. He'd run off like an idiot, and now he was a risk to the entire town.]
no subject
Yeah, maybe.
[He agrees in an undertone, brushing more dirt off his shoulders and arms, careful to avoid his back directly. He wishes he had something to better clean him up with, but that won't happen until they can get to the clinic.]
But that'd be beating a dead horse, at this point. You fucked up. I fucked up. We're even on that front, remember?
[Wolfwood looks at Vash over his shades, brows furrowing.]
So now we gotta deal with it.
no subject
In the end, he settles for a nod. It isn't confident, but at least he's working on accepting it. Baby steps...
And the first step is exactly what Wolfwood says. Dealing with the problem. He glances as far over his shoulder as he dares, staring at the still damp wings that now protrude from his back. It makes his stomach twist before long, and instead he finds himself following the path of Wolfwood's hand. Much better, in his opinion.]
Think if you pull hard enough, we'll get rid of them?
[Buddy that is not what he meant.]
no subject
[Elsword is living proof of that. You can't just remove the corrupted parts and assume that's going to fix it. No, something...something about this corruption runs deeper than that, like an infection that has to be rooted out at the source. Trying to shave off the results will only just make room for something new and more horrific to come and replace it.
But then...what do they do? That, he isn't sure he has an answer for. At least, not a good one.]
I mean...we just gotta take this as it comes. I'm just glad you're still here. Very well couldn't be.
[After all, the Forest had tried its best to kill him the moment he left the Garden. Sacrifices are the name of the game here, and Wolfwood will be damned if he sees Vash die over this.]
no subject
[He knows that he shouldn't avoid the truth. The sooner he accepted the reality, the easier they could start to move on. Not that he knew what the hell moving on was supposed to look like. Even sitting still like he was felt like denying the truth. If he didn't move to clean himself up, he wouldn't have to acknowledge that there were wounds there, right?
A sigh leaves him, before he finally shifts his legs underneath himself. He pushes himself upward, wincing yet again as aching muscles and flayed flesh both bemoaned their predicament.]
Not gonna let me get away with skipping the Clinic, are you?
no subject
[He uses his grip on Vash to lift him up a little bit higher, sussing out what the best course of action from here might be. He might have to carry him, which is going to be tough for multiple reasons, but…
But then Vash surprises him by actually getting to his feet, which prompts him to stiffen so he can be a steadier support to lean on.]
I can carry you, if y’need. [Like, a fireman’s carry. We can’t do bridal style when your back is like that, sorry.] Just might be slow goin’.
no subject
[At least, he's pretty sure he can walk. It's not terribly far to the clinic, and the last thing he wants is to put any strain onto Wolfwood when he's already struggling. Neither of them are really in the best of shape right now, and he's not about to push their luck.]
Just. Stay close, yeah? Maybe let me lean a bit?
[It seems like the cleanest compromise he can find for right now.]
no subject
[They'll make it there together, even if it takes them an hour. If anything, Wolfwood is more worried about the amount of blood loss that Vash has suffered. He knows Vash has a higher constitution than most, and realistically probably would be fine...but now that he's corrupted, he has even more reason to be on high alert. No reason to take chances.
He'll let Vash command their pace, then, keeping his arm around Vash beneath those wings, with Vash holding onto him in turn however he feels the most comfortable.]
no subject
He just doesn't let Wolfwood go too far. As long as he can help it, his fingers remain twined with his partner's. It's a nice connection to normalcy, even as everything seems to be twisting itself into circles. They'd implied before that they were one another's homes, after all. A safe harbor.
So Vash clings to that hope as they finish up in the clinic. He holds onto it as they head home, and even as they settle into bed for the night. It'll be some time before he feels back to his normal self, and that's if it ever happens. Until then, he at least has this.]