Title: Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things
Author: Azurepoet
E-mail: Azurepoettiff@aol.com
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Trigun. I know that they are the creations of the talented Mr. Nightow (And I say "Arigatou" to him every day). Wish I owned Wolfwood though.he would be a handy-dandy thing to have around the house.
A/N: This started as a weird thought I had at 2:30 in the morning.that wouldn't let me do anything else until I wrote it down. It's a look at the series from Milly's point of view, with the idea that the resident "big girl" is a little deeper then she appears.
Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things.
Chapter 1: Still Waters Run Deep
I smile when I can't think of anything else to say.
Everyone looks at me as a little beam of sunshine, which isn't exactly the most welcome sights on this dry, dusty planet. And I play my part, because I've played it all my life. I was the youngest, the baby. I was so protected that I didn't even have a clue as to what I was being protected from, and there was a small part of me that wanted to know.
I wanted to be like her.
She always reminded me of the Fifth moon: remote, a little cold, but always changing. She's so worldly and sure of herself, sophisticated, and all business. We each know our place. She's a leader, it comes naturally, but she can't lead without someone to follow. She also needs a friend. I can fill both roles, and it works for me because I know I wouldn't be able to travel alone, I would never make it.
I hated her sometimes.
No, not hate. I was jealous of her. She's pretty and petite, but she can hold her own. She's got that mix of brass tacks and femininity that always got her the second and third glances as we walked through rooms. She never let on that she noticed, though. She was always professional. No one was good enough. . .he didn't even make the grade at first. I was always too tall, too intimidating. I tower over most men and even the ones who can look me in the eye usually don't look any higher than my chest.
I knew when we first met.
It wasn't the fancy disarming tricks he pulled to get us out of there alive, or the coat and hair that gave him away. . .it was his eyes. As he ran beside the Thomas deftly stealing doughnuts from Meryl, he glanced back at me. And there it was, a single unguarded moment, lost in time, where everything was just there: the loneliness of the wandering life, the bare- boned suffering, and the ancient wisdom still in early bloom. . . It lasted a millisecond at the most, and I know he didn't do it intentionally, but it happened all the same. When we saw him again at the mansion, he said it all in that simple greeting. Not to give that raw piece of him away. And I understood, and kept my grain of insight deep inside. But I knew then he was the Vash the Stampede.
I tried to tell her.
It was hard because I couldn't express in words how I knew. It was a gut feeling. I covered myself by offering my own brand of logic, like the fact that he responded when I called his name. Meryl just gave me her usual exasperated look and started to lecture me. I smiled and nodded, not really paying attention. There was something about him that made me wonder, and I don't wonder that often. I thought that if he really was Vash the Stampede, that keeping tabs on him was going to be an interesting experience.
I had no idea. . .but even if I'd known then what I know now, I still would have stayed.
Chapter 2: An Angel With The Devil's Luck
A/N: I'm in the process of writing Chap. 2 of this story, and if people like the way I'm going with this, then I'll put it up. If anyone has any suggestions and/or criticisms, please send them my way. I love constructive criticism, and since this is my first attempt at writing a full-length fanfic, I'm hoping to get some hints and tips from more experienced writers. . .or readers. ^_^
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Trigun. I know that they are the creations of the talented Mr. Nightow (And I say "Arigatou" to him every day). Wish I owned Wolfwood though.he would be a handy-dandy thing to have around the house.
A/N: This started as a weird thought I had at 2:30 in the morning.that wouldn't let me do anything else until I wrote it down. It's a look at the series from Milly's point of view, with the idea that the resident "big girl" is a little deeper then she appears.
Unyielding Truths Are Fickle Things.
Chapter 1: Still Waters Run Deep
I smile when I can't think of anything else to say.
Everyone looks at me as a little beam of sunshine, which isn't exactly the most welcome sights on this dry, dusty planet. And I play my part, because I've played it all my life. I was the youngest, the baby. I was so protected that I didn't even have a clue as to what I was being protected from, and there was a small part of me that wanted to know.
I wanted to be like her.
She always reminded me of the Fifth moon: remote, a little cold, but always changing. She's so worldly and sure of herself, sophisticated, and all business. We each know our place. She's a leader, it comes naturally, but she can't lead without someone to follow. She also needs a friend. I can fill both roles, and it works for me because I know I wouldn't be able to travel alone, I would never make it.
I hated her sometimes.
No, not hate. I was jealous of her. She's pretty and petite, but she can hold her own. She's got that mix of brass tacks and femininity that always got her the second and third glances as we walked through rooms. She never let on that she noticed, though. She was always professional. No one was good enough. . .he didn't even make the grade at first. I was always too tall, too intimidating. I tower over most men and even the ones who can look me in the eye usually don't look any higher than my chest.
I knew when we first met.
It wasn't the fancy disarming tricks he pulled to get us out of there alive, or the coat and hair that gave him away. . .it was his eyes. As he ran beside the Thomas deftly stealing doughnuts from Meryl, he glanced back at me. And there it was, a single unguarded moment, lost in time, where everything was just there: the loneliness of the wandering life, the bare- boned suffering, and the ancient wisdom still in early bloom. . . It lasted a millisecond at the most, and I know he didn't do it intentionally, but it happened all the same. When we saw him again at the mansion, he said it all in that simple greeting. Not to give that raw piece of him away. And I understood, and kept my grain of insight deep inside. But I knew then he was the Vash the Stampede.
I tried to tell her.
It was hard because I couldn't express in words how I knew. It was a gut feeling. I covered myself by offering my own brand of logic, like the fact that he responded when I called his name. Meryl just gave me her usual exasperated look and started to lecture me. I smiled and nodded, not really paying attention. There was something about him that made me wonder, and I don't wonder that often. I thought that if he really was Vash the Stampede, that keeping tabs on him was going to be an interesting experience.
I had no idea. . .but even if I'd known then what I know now, I still would have stayed.
Chapter 2: An Angel With The Devil's Luck
A/N: I'm in the process of writing Chap. 2 of this story, and if people like the way I'm going with this, then I'll put it up. If anyone has any suggestions and/or criticisms, please send them my way. I love constructive criticism, and since this is my first attempt at writing a full-length fanfic, I'm hoping to get some hints and tips from more experienced writers. . .or readers. ^_^