I don't own Trigun [that's the stuff of wishes and dreams,] I just like
donuts.
Keep in mind, Eyre has never actually met Vash. ^_^; So she thinks like all those other rumour mongers.
Um... //-// is still flashbacks [thouch they're not really here]
And... ::-:: is telepathic speech.
.
~8~
.
The sound of the stranger's steps had long since faded into the air, leaving behind only a daunting silence; bootprints crushed into the helpless dust the only reminder of what had been. Bootprints, and a scene now etched into a young girls memory with cold precision. Eyre shuddered with sudden apprehension, as her gaze was again drawn out to the scene before her. The dust spider had begun to secrete a horrible ichor from some deep wellspring within itself, as if that which made it living was crawling slowly out of its mortal shell, to die again when the light touched it. She knelt softly beside the pathetic shell, a cloud of dust and sand billowing up about her blue-clad knees before settling back into its places. Far away, her rational mind queried her, not understanding. 'It was only a spider,' thought her rationality, 'why should it matter this much; why should it matter at all?' She didn't really know why, but it did.
It didn't seem like the man had killed a simple spider; it felt to her like he had killed someone very dear to her... Like he had been the one to wipe out the town, and that her spider was the only thing left alive, except her- and now it was dead too. Sudden, irrational fear made her numb; what if he had killed everyone in the town. What if everyone was gone, not because she had wished them away, but because a stranger in a white suit came and whisked them all into nothingness.
Shuddering again, she looked up from the lifeless thing to rest her eyes on the monumental scrawl in red. 'Knives...' Was that his signiature? Surely he couldn't be... on par with someone like Vash the Stampede, who destroyed towns on a whim; who obliterated the lives of helpless townspeople, and made humans tremble in fear wherever he walked?
Eyre stifled a gasp, still on her knees, her eyes suddenely loosened from their grasp on the statue. What if he was Vash the Stampede! She had heard he had blonde hair, and... well, it was very light, but that could be considered blonde! He did empty out the entire town, and he had such a disrespect for life that he would crush a helpless insect when there was no need to? But why, then, would he have written 'Knives' on a statue in the town centre? Her eyes darted around, thouch her body kept stock still; her mind whirled and twirled about dizzily in similar confusion. Right hand suddenly pressed to her forehead, she leaned heavily on her left, before applying more pressure, and lavering herself up. She stumbled from her sudden force, and fell forward, hands blindly reaching out before her. Suddenly, the cool rock of the statue held her up, and she tumbled weakly against it; the full force of her situation hitting her like a sledge hammer.
The dust-clad girl collapsed to the base of the monument, her knees buckling. Her family had been killed. Her sister, her mother, even that man... They were all gone. Linda would never tempt yet another innocent boy from the street with her sultry expressions and glinting nails. Her mother would no longer sew her clothing up by the candlelight, and tell her stories of the wild and wonderful adventures of the bounty hunters, who chased after an elusive sixty-million double dollar man. Even that man, her father, would never bounce her upon his knee in rare sobriety while she giggled helplessly. Her spider was gone too. And all the children. And all the children's parents. Eyre found herself choking dryly, suprised by the trails of molten heat that burned down her face. She had loved them, all of them... In her carelessness, she had wished herself out of it, and now that she was... She wasn't sure she wanted what she had thought she wanted.
Oh! This was so confusing! What about that mysterious killer? Who was he? Awash with confliction emotions, her soul involved in a rending game of tug-of-war, Eyre closed her eyes; her chest was constricted from her shallow gasps of pain and grief, and it pulsed with a fury previously unknown to her. Finally, with a solid thump that she never heard, the girl curled into a fetal ball, and toppled over into the dust at the foot of the monument, now a memorial and tombstone, her hand stretched out toward the pathetic spider's corpse in a silent entreaty for safety that would never come again. Carcasses was silent again- a dead place- though the lifeless bodies that the town's name implied would never be found.
Another sound occured, that would never reach the unconcious Eyre's ears. Footsteps again, slightly heavier than the first; as if the maker was carrying his sins on his shoulders for everyone to see, but only he to feel the full weight of.
.
~8~
.
::Master...::
A soft voice with all the texture and feel of wet silk insinuated its way within the thoughts and memories in the back of the white-suited man's awareness. It curled around his mind like a plume of smoke, pulling his immediate attention to the speaker, before dissipating into the blankness of the air around it.
With a slight smirk, Knives leant back in his chair, awaiting his report. He did not dignify his servant with an answer; he was one of them; and didn't deserve even a thought. He was interested, however, for he had sent his minion to the town on a different mission than usual. He had felt something watching him, earlier in the square; but dismissed it as little more than nothing. He had dispensed with the worthless slime within that town fully, and nothing remained. However, he had a lingering doubt. Not important enough for him to be troubled with; but important enough to send one of his belongings to check again; and report back if anything was found.
Legato knew that his master was listening vaguely, but he certainly did not want to ask for any more attention, even if something interesting had been found. Which indeed was the case... if another of these unworthy beings being discovered was interesting. As his golden gaze lanced down dispassionately at the curled and fallen girl, he had thought about just dispensing with her there and then; but He had ordered him to report everything; and he did not wish to make the master angry with him... never that.
::Master, there is an unconcious human girl here...:: the disembodied voice reported, a slight tone of indifferance indicating exactly what he thought of the situation. Knives' eyesbrows lowered slightly in thought; how could any filth have survived his 'attack' on the settlement? Perturbed, he settled lower in his seat, fingers falling lazily together to form a steeple, where they tapped together for a few times, before rewarding his minion's dilligence with a few syllables.
::Go on.:: he abstractly thought back at the man on-scene, his thoughts suddenly occupied with scenarios of survival for the strange girl. A slight thread of astonishment laced Legato's reply, as if he was baffled that he had been spoken to.
::...She is living, and appears to be around fourteen or fifteen years of age,:: the silken voice continued, still being sewn together with reverance, ::and footstep depth and direction indicates that she crouched behind a nearby building within view of the square for a short period of time, before getting up and shuffling to the center stone. There, she fell onto her knees, rested herself upon her left hand, and then forced herself up with the same hand. She then stumbled forward, pressed into the monument, and toppled over into the position that I see currently. Patches on the ground indicate that she was crying, Master.:: the capital letter was evident in the title, the whole speech presented in the air on one who fears to leave any detail, no matter how minute, out.
Knives breathed out slowly, in a whoosh of air. He tapped his steepled fingers against each other once more, before lacing them together and sitting up a slight straighter. This made a little more sense; she must have been a resident, not someone from out of the area. She had been at another town? He grunted slightly in frustration, and braced one elbow against his desk, resting his chin in his open palm. Not enough information.
::Where do the footsteps originate.:: He thought at his servant; it was not an inquiry, his tone provided for that, it was an order. Find out; it said.
There was a moment of silence, and he could almost feel the neatly executed steps as the girl's footsteps were traced back to their origin.
::They lead to a house at the edge of town, Master,:: Legato finally thought, the incense of his voice again raising a plume of smoke into the waiting air. ::And from there they lead back out into the dunes. There is a scooped out hole here, though it is partially covered over now, where she slept the last night.::
A ha. Concluded the Master, silently greatful that his thoughts had been untangled. She must have lived in that house. There was something that made her leave, and sleep outside of town. She must not have awakened before his little courtesy call, and came in to town just afterwards. Suddenly, he frowned; his thoughts interrupted by that voice again, a little more hurried this time.
::She has awakened, Master... should I dispose of her?:: His lips frowned for him, as his forehead was now doing.
::Ye-...:: Knives cut off his thought, still mulling it over; something about this girl piqued his interest; he briefly considered asking Legato to bring her to him, for further questioning... but that wasn't enough. He thought for a few seconds more, before hitting on a use for her. A child. I can use her as a tool against my brother; bring him to me. That was a good enough excuse. ::No. I want you to bring her here, to me.:: he finalized. Surprise from his servant, but underneath it, an almost disturbing willingness to obey.
::Very well, Master.:: Legato thought; and then the Master's presence was gone from his mind; no longer paying him any heed.
.
~8~
.
Eyre awoke slowly, her body feeling the presence of another before her mind registered it, and her memory pulled in a figure quickly.
//that man, bent over to cuff her awake...//
Danger! Every fiber in her being sang, and she sat up violently, reflexively scooting away from the presence. It wasn't her father. It was faster. An iron grip quickly closed about her throat, and she gagged for breath, her eyes opening fully, and her mind awaking to the situation. She felt her feet leave the dusty ground, and then her back was slammed roughly into the monolith in the center of the square. She choked against the merciless grip, and struggled to get free; but it would not give for anything she tried. Her eyes raised to look at her attacker, and was startled to meet piercing eyes of gold, hidden behind a screen of blue hair- he looked incredibly bored. The man was wearing a white coat as well, one shoulder adorned with spikes of iron, or some sort of black metal. Her efforts to get free redoubled and became increasingly frantic as she saw what garnished the other shoulder of his coat. A human skull.
Fearfully, Eyre turned her eyes back to his, and saw them unfocus slightly, as if he were waiting for an answer. His hand tightened again on her throat, causing her to wheeze and see sparks at the edge of her vision, and then he released the added pressure on her throat suddenly. She looked at him dazedly, to see the golden eyes look decidedly confused for a few scant moments, before become apathetic again. Those eyes bored into her green- flecked ones, until she wished nothing but to shrink back into the stone behind her; and then he squeezed--...
There was not even light at the edge of her vision as her breathing stopped, and she lapsed into unconciousness again; becoming only a lax burden with was carefully cradled- almost gently- in her assailant's arms. He didn't want to damage her any more, after all.
She was His now.
.
~8~
.
A/N: Whoo, that was a long one! It just ran out of my fingers like a waterfall. ^_^ Or Legato's hair; whichever you prefer to envision.
Again, thanks to my reviewers; and don't fret, the plot is coming! If I could, I'd give a little bit of Trigun to all of you... If I owned it, which of course I don't. ^_^ If wishes were horses, I'd probably be a hustler.
Don't change that channel!
Love and Peace!
-Ivory
Keep in mind, Eyre has never actually met Vash. ^_^; So she thinks like all those other rumour mongers.
Um... //-// is still flashbacks [thouch they're not really here]
And... ::-:: is telepathic speech.
.
~8~
.
The sound of the stranger's steps had long since faded into the air, leaving behind only a daunting silence; bootprints crushed into the helpless dust the only reminder of what had been. Bootprints, and a scene now etched into a young girls memory with cold precision. Eyre shuddered with sudden apprehension, as her gaze was again drawn out to the scene before her. The dust spider had begun to secrete a horrible ichor from some deep wellspring within itself, as if that which made it living was crawling slowly out of its mortal shell, to die again when the light touched it. She knelt softly beside the pathetic shell, a cloud of dust and sand billowing up about her blue-clad knees before settling back into its places. Far away, her rational mind queried her, not understanding. 'It was only a spider,' thought her rationality, 'why should it matter this much; why should it matter at all?' She didn't really know why, but it did.
It didn't seem like the man had killed a simple spider; it felt to her like he had killed someone very dear to her... Like he had been the one to wipe out the town, and that her spider was the only thing left alive, except her- and now it was dead too. Sudden, irrational fear made her numb; what if he had killed everyone in the town. What if everyone was gone, not because she had wished them away, but because a stranger in a white suit came and whisked them all into nothingness.
Shuddering again, she looked up from the lifeless thing to rest her eyes on the monumental scrawl in red. 'Knives...' Was that his signiature? Surely he couldn't be... on par with someone like Vash the Stampede, who destroyed towns on a whim; who obliterated the lives of helpless townspeople, and made humans tremble in fear wherever he walked?
Eyre stifled a gasp, still on her knees, her eyes suddenely loosened from their grasp on the statue. What if he was Vash the Stampede! She had heard he had blonde hair, and... well, it was very light, but that could be considered blonde! He did empty out the entire town, and he had such a disrespect for life that he would crush a helpless insect when there was no need to? But why, then, would he have written 'Knives' on a statue in the town centre? Her eyes darted around, thouch her body kept stock still; her mind whirled and twirled about dizzily in similar confusion. Right hand suddenly pressed to her forehead, she leaned heavily on her left, before applying more pressure, and lavering herself up. She stumbled from her sudden force, and fell forward, hands blindly reaching out before her. Suddenly, the cool rock of the statue held her up, and she tumbled weakly against it; the full force of her situation hitting her like a sledge hammer.
The dust-clad girl collapsed to the base of the monument, her knees buckling. Her family had been killed. Her sister, her mother, even that man... They were all gone. Linda would never tempt yet another innocent boy from the street with her sultry expressions and glinting nails. Her mother would no longer sew her clothing up by the candlelight, and tell her stories of the wild and wonderful adventures of the bounty hunters, who chased after an elusive sixty-million double dollar man. Even that man, her father, would never bounce her upon his knee in rare sobriety while she giggled helplessly. Her spider was gone too. And all the children. And all the children's parents. Eyre found herself choking dryly, suprised by the trails of molten heat that burned down her face. She had loved them, all of them... In her carelessness, she had wished herself out of it, and now that she was... She wasn't sure she wanted what she had thought she wanted.
Oh! This was so confusing! What about that mysterious killer? Who was he? Awash with confliction emotions, her soul involved in a rending game of tug-of-war, Eyre closed her eyes; her chest was constricted from her shallow gasps of pain and grief, and it pulsed with a fury previously unknown to her. Finally, with a solid thump that she never heard, the girl curled into a fetal ball, and toppled over into the dust at the foot of the monument, now a memorial and tombstone, her hand stretched out toward the pathetic spider's corpse in a silent entreaty for safety that would never come again. Carcasses was silent again- a dead place- though the lifeless bodies that the town's name implied would never be found.
Another sound occured, that would never reach the unconcious Eyre's ears. Footsteps again, slightly heavier than the first; as if the maker was carrying his sins on his shoulders for everyone to see, but only he to feel the full weight of.
.
~8~
.
::Master...::
A soft voice with all the texture and feel of wet silk insinuated its way within the thoughts and memories in the back of the white-suited man's awareness. It curled around his mind like a plume of smoke, pulling his immediate attention to the speaker, before dissipating into the blankness of the air around it.
With a slight smirk, Knives leant back in his chair, awaiting his report. He did not dignify his servant with an answer; he was one of them; and didn't deserve even a thought. He was interested, however, for he had sent his minion to the town on a different mission than usual. He had felt something watching him, earlier in the square; but dismissed it as little more than nothing. He had dispensed with the worthless slime within that town fully, and nothing remained. However, he had a lingering doubt. Not important enough for him to be troubled with; but important enough to send one of his belongings to check again; and report back if anything was found.
Legato knew that his master was listening vaguely, but he certainly did not want to ask for any more attention, even if something interesting had been found. Which indeed was the case... if another of these unworthy beings being discovered was interesting. As his golden gaze lanced down dispassionately at the curled and fallen girl, he had thought about just dispensing with her there and then; but He had ordered him to report everything; and he did not wish to make the master angry with him... never that.
::Master, there is an unconcious human girl here...:: the disembodied voice reported, a slight tone of indifferance indicating exactly what he thought of the situation. Knives' eyesbrows lowered slightly in thought; how could any filth have survived his 'attack' on the settlement? Perturbed, he settled lower in his seat, fingers falling lazily together to form a steeple, where they tapped together for a few times, before rewarding his minion's dilligence with a few syllables.
::Go on.:: he abstractly thought back at the man on-scene, his thoughts suddenly occupied with scenarios of survival for the strange girl. A slight thread of astonishment laced Legato's reply, as if he was baffled that he had been spoken to.
::...She is living, and appears to be around fourteen or fifteen years of age,:: the silken voice continued, still being sewn together with reverance, ::and footstep depth and direction indicates that she crouched behind a nearby building within view of the square for a short period of time, before getting up and shuffling to the center stone. There, she fell onto her knees, rested herself upon her left hand, and then forced herself up with the same hand. She then stumbled forward, pressed into the monument, and toppled over into the position that I see currently. Patches on the ground indicate that she was crying, Master.:: the capital letter was evident in the title, the whole speech presented in the air on one who fears to leave any detail, no matter how minute, out.
Knives breathed out slowly, in a whoosh of air. He tapped his steepled fingers against each other once more, before lacing them together and sitting up a slight straighter. This made a little more sense; she must have been a resident, not someone from out of the area. She had been at another town? He grunted slightly in frustration, and braced one elbow against his desk, resting his chin in his open palm. Not enough information.
::Where do the footsteps originate.:: He thought at his servant; it was not an inquiry, his tone provided for that, it was an order. Find out; it said.
There was a moment of silence, and he could almost feel the neatly executed steps as the girl's footsteps were traced back to their origin.
::They lead to a house at the edge of town, Master,:: Legato finally thought, the incense of his voice again raising a plume of smoke into the waiting air. ::And from there they lead back out into the dunes. There is a scooped out hole here, though it is partially covered over now, where she slept the last night.::
A ha. Concluded the Master, silently greatful that his thoughts had been untangled. She must have lived in that house. There was something that made her leave, and sleep outside of town. She must not have awakened before his little courtesy call, and came in to town just afterwards. Suddenly, he frowned; his thoughts interrupted by that voice again, a little more hurried this time.
::She has awakened, Master... should I dispose of her?:: His lips frowned for him, as his forehead was now doing.
::Ye-...:: Knives cut off his thought, still mulling it over; something about this girl piqued his interest; he briefly considered asking Legato to bring her to him, for further questioning... but that wasn't enough. He thought for a few seconds more, before hitting on a use for her. A child. I can use her as a tool against my brother; bring him to me. That was a good enough excuse. ::No. I want you to bring her here, to me.:: he finalized. Surprise from his servant, but underneath it, an almost disturbing willingness to obey.
::Very well, Master.:: Legato thought; and then the Master's presence was gone from his mind; no longer paying him any heed.
.
~8~
.
Eyre awoke slowly, her body feeling the presence of another before her mind registered it, and her memory pulled in a figure quickly.
//that man, bent over to cuff her awake...//
Danger! Every fiber in her being sang, and she sat up violently, reflexively scooting away from the presence. It wasn't her father. It was faster. An iron grip quickly closed about her throat, and she gagged for breath, her eyes opening fully, and her mind awaking to the situation. She felt her feet leave the dusty ground, and then her back was slammed roughly into the monolith in the center of the square. She choked against the merciless grip, and struggled to get free; but it would not give for anything she tried. Her eyes raised to look at her attacker, and was startled to meet piercing eyes of gold, hidden behind a screen of blue hair- he looked incredibly bored. The man was wearing a white coat as well, one shoulder adorned with spikes of iron, or some sort of black metal. Her efforts to get free redoubled and became increasingly frantic as she saw what garnished the other shoulder of his coat. A human skull.
Fearfully, Eyre turned her eyes back to his, and saw them unfocus slightly, as if he were waiting for an answer. His hand tightened again on her throat, causing her to wheeze and see sparks at the edge of her vision, and then he released the added pressure on her throat suddenly. She looked at him dazedly, to see the golden eyes look decidedly confused for a few scant moments, before become apathetic again. Those eyes bored into her green- flecked ones, until she wished nothing but to shrink back into the stone behind her; and then he squeezed--...
There was not even light at the edge of her vision as her breathing stopped, and she lapsed into unconciousness again; becoming only a lax burden with was carefully cradled- almost gently- in her assailant's arms. He didn't want to damage her any more, after all.
She was His now.
.
~8~
.
A/N: Whoo, that was a long one! It just ran out of my fingers like a waterfall. ^_^ Or Legato's hair; whichever you prefer to envision.
Again, thanks to my reviewers; and don't fret, the plot is coming! If I could, I'd give a little bit of Trigun to all of you... If I owned it, which of course I don't. ^_^ If wishes were horses, I'd probably be a hustler.
Don't change that channel!
Love and Peace!
-Ivory