drab

drab·ble (drab´'l) n. : a story exactly 100 words long, excluding title

31. Classic

Pressed and beautiful as the restaurant itself, Vash wasn't at all what she expected tonight. The date wasn't anything she had expected. No guns, no trouble, just that liquid gaze she could drown in joking and explaining odd bits of history.

Meryl leaned contentedly onto her palm. She didn't know why he chose such a seductive tone for Greek philosophers, but she couldn't deny enjoying the enthralling sparkle of his voice.

"Empedocles took a completely different stance, however. According to him, there were only two forces in nature," he smiled, catching her free hand for a kiss. "Love . . ."

"And Stryfe."

32. Despite Appearances

"Rem! Reeeem!"

The dark haired woman turned at the almost synchronized, breathless and extremely panicked young voices. Forms rather more elaborately clothed than usual streaked quite neatly past her, taking refuge in her shadow. Vash quite literally clung to her legs, half-hiding himself behind them.

She laughed, taking in the adorable dresses they'd been subjected to. Again.

Flustered, but quickly regaining himself, Knives pointed an accusatory finger at her, "I thought you said you were going to talk to Mary about this! We're not girls! It's embarrassing."

Vash nodded, smoothing his skirt primly, "And this color makes me look fat."

33. Naming

They had all gathered again on the bridge, taking a respite from the stress surrounding Steve's crime and judgement. Both Law and Mary were still twitching, so Rem had called them all together to hopefully return their minds to the light of the future that lay before them.

While the boys had claimed their seats in the front, the adults hovered behind the pair. The dusty planet they had celebrated before was once more on the screen.

"If it's going to be home, it needs a name," Rem asserted quietly.

Knives smiled, something secret in his eyes, "Why not . . . Eden?"

34. Kin

Watching Vash with the same resigned alarm that he traditionally reserved for his twin - that he'd created for his twin - Knives finally felt the need to voice his suspicion to his caretaker. His crystal eyes drifted from the sight of his brother sitting at the table with his legs demurely crossed beneath his dress and to the disconcertingly amused eyes of Rem.

"Rem, there's something I would like to ask you. I think I can handle whatever you say. And I need to know."

Irresistibly, his eyes again found Vash, taking ladylike sips of tea, "Vash is adopted, isn't he?"

35. Belief

The soft bed gave under the sleeping child's every breath, curving around a purpled face and helplessly curled hands. To either side the presence of his family embraced him, driving away the nightmares that often shuddered through his thin body.

Knives stroked his twin's long hair carefully, wistful expression on his fragile face, "I told him it would be alright. Did I lie?"

Rem shook her head, reaching out to still his hand. Hoping this once to consol him.

"I think I did," he whispered. "I'm not like you. And . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't."

"Can't what, sweetie?"

"Believe."

36. Ska

Vash wiped the sweat from his brow as the trombonist finished the final trills of the song. The crowd was faceless, flowing. Distilled humanity swaying and swinging to his song. It looked like all of Sky City had turned out, crowding into the flickering Rec Room for it's decommissioning.

But right now they were ignoring the precious technological trappings and looking only at him. It was glorious feeling.

Briefly, Vash thought that he could used to fame.

He grinned, taking a breath between sets, "Any requests?"

From several unsure locations came a layered, embarrassingly unified shout, "Take off your shirt!"

notes: Where to start? Where to start? Hmm. The beginning! Okay, the abuse of historical facts in Classic is indeed an abuse, since it is unequivocally true. As per always. So that once I've lulled you into a false sense of security, I can begin lying to you indiscriminately. What else? We know I'll use any excuse to make characters cross dress (if you didn't, you do now). Ska? Yeah. Okay. This is just a fangirlish fantasy on my part. So what if it's cheesy. I like Vash in a band. It amuses me. It doesn't matter if he can sing or not. The fans would go just to stare at him. Anyway, ska is a very fitting music for him - psychotically hyperactive, unswervingly truthful, oddly innocent, and occasionally quite biting.

Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Ours.

main fiction