DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TRIGUN.
Author: Hi, so... I was thinking about ending this all by blowing up all of Gunsmoke. Then everyone dies and there's no need for further conflict. No, I'm kidding. I just wanted to get your attention for this important message. I NEED REVIEWS. Thank you, goodnight.
She had waited until Vash had his morning visit with Knives to move her 'activities' into the room. She set up an easel, a stack of books and various other effects. The she went downstairs and got his breakfast. Before she even put the tray down she pressed her ear against the door and listen for the others to close the front door behind themselves. When they finally left she set the tray down, walked over, and untied him. Before he had time to react she was removing the head piece.
"What are you doing," Knives demanded, "You are under orders not to remove that."
She smiled softly and blushed. She looked radiant when she blushed like that. She un-clasped the chin strap as she said, "I've never been good at following orders, and it was part of the deal. Besides, it's just not right. It's inhuman to make you wear that thing."
As soon as it was off his sisters' voices flooded his head. It was so wonderfully over-whelming. He jumped out of bed with glee and promptly crumpled to the floor. Renee was there in a flash, hauling his weight over her shoulders. That scent, that clean scent was already invading his senses. Disgusted, he shoved her away.
"I'm fine," He snapped, "I just took a bad step."
"Then you can find your way back into bed," She snapped back at him.
She sniffed and whimpered slightly. For some reason he hated that noise, it made his heart ache. In spite of it, he found his way back to his bed just fine without her. His wounds were knitting well, even if he hadn't gotten his land legs back yet. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to kill the woman just yet. He had a feeling she was hiding something that might be of use to him.
She settled herself in front of the easel and started working the paint across the canvas. She was aware of his eyes on her. The disorienting effect of the helmet must still be in effect. He hadn't tried probing her mind yet. He was in for a nasty surprise when he did, she thought with a frown. She was still hoping this would be easier, and that she wouldn't have to put him through everything she felt was needed to reform him. It was a laughable hope really. Did she expect him to just change after 130 years?
She mixed some new colors as she worked. She was getting nervous. He hadn't spoken, he hadn't attempted to contact anybody, and hadn't tried to harm her. Waiting for it was far worse than the actual event. She thought as she rubbed the marks on her neck through the scarf she was using to conceal them. In his 130 years of malice that was probably the least amount of damage he'd done. It was a long shot to reform him, but they were counting on her. She couldn't let them down without trying her very hardest.
Finally, he spoke.
"Who are you?" He asked in his clear, superior voice, "You haven't even been kind enough to give me your name yet."
She had heard he could talk like that. In that friendly yet, mightier than thou voice. She forced a smile and said, "Of course, how rude of me! My name is Renee Everwinter."
Knives's eyes widened and his hands twitched. His sisters had mentioned that name before, but would never give him any information. They would only utter a faint plea for him not to hurt her if he ever encountered her. She was special. Whatever the hell that meant. His teeth clenched, he knew even more now that he had to know this woman. He couldn't kill her until he knew what made her so blasted special. Then again, finding out would be easy enough. All he needed to do was...
He tensed up. Not quite the violent reaction she was expecting. She wasn't sure how much had accidentally been leaked to knives about her. By the puzzled expression beneath the hate on his surface, she would guess not much. She busied her hand with the brush, still working the color around. The painting was slowly taking form. Then she felt it. It was like a feather brushing the top of her scull. She winced as he screamed in agony.
Author; Okay, so are you addicted yet? Or are you just hoping I'll get to the point? Some reviews or messages might help. HINTHINT
Author: Hi, so... I was thinking about ending this all by blowing up all of Gunsmoke. Then everyone dies and there's no need for further conflict. No, I'm kidding. I just wanted to get your attention for this important message. I NEED REVIEWS. Thank you, goodnight.
She had waited until Vash had his morning visit with Knives to move her 'activities' into the room. She set up an easel, a stack of books and various other effects. The she went downstairs and got his breakfast. Before she even put the tray down she pressed her ear against the door and listen for the others to close the front door behind themselves. When they finally left she set the tray down, walked over, and untied him. Before he had time to react she was removing the head piece.
"What are you doing," Knives demanded, "You are under orders not to remove that."
She smiled softly and blushed. She looked radiant when she blushed like that. She un-clasped the chin strap as she said, "I've never been good at following orders, and it was part of the deal. Besides, it's just not right. It's inhuman to make you wear that thing."
As soon as it was off his sisters' voices flooded his head. It was so wonderfully over-whelming. He jumped out of bed with glee and promptly crumpled to the floor. Renee was there in a flash, hauling his weight over her shoulders. That scent, that clean scent was already invading his senses. Disgusted, he shoved her away.
"I'm fine," He snapped, "I just took a bad step."
"Then you can find your way back into bed," She snapped back at him.
She sniffed and whimpered slightly. For some reason he hated that noise, it made his heart ache. In spite of it, he found his way back to his bed just fine without her. His wounds were knitting well, even if he hadn't gotten his land legs back yet. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to kill the woman just yet. He had a feeling she was hiding something that might be of use to him.
She settled herself in front of the easel and started working the paint across the canvas. She was aware of his eyes on her. The disorienting effect of the helmet must still be in effect. He hadn't tried probing her mind yet. He was in for a nasty surprise when he did, she thought with a frown. She was still hoping this would be easier, and that she wouldn't have to put him through everything she felt was needed to reform him. It was a laughable hope really. Did she expect him to just change after 130 years?
She mixed some new colors as she worked. She was getting nervous. He hadn't spoken, he hadn't attempted to contact anybody, and hadn't tried to harm her. Waiting for it was far worse than the actual event. She thought as she rubbed the marks on her neck through the scarf she was using to conceal them. In his 130 years of malice that was probably the least amount of damage he'd done. It was a long shot to reform him, but they were counting on her. She couldn't let them down without trying her very hardest.
Finally, he spoke.
"Who are you?" He asked in his clear, superior voice, "You haven't even been kind enough to give me your name yet."
She had heard he could talk like that. In that friendly yet, mightier than thou voice. She forced a smile and said, "Of course, how rude of me! My name is Renee Everwinter."
Knives's eyes widened and his hands twitched. His sisters had mentioned that name before, but would never give him any information. They would only utter a faint plea for him not to hurt her if he ever encountered her. She was special. Whatever the hell that meant. His teeth clenched, he knew even more now that he had to know this woman. He couldn't kill her until he knew what made her so blasted special. Then again, finding out would be easy enough. All he needed to do was...
He tensed up. Not quite the violent reaction she was expecting. She wasn't sure how much had accidentally been leaked to knives about her. By the puzzled expression beneath the hate on his surface, she would guess not much. She busied her hand with the brush, still working the color around. The painting was slowly taking form. Then she felt it. It was like a feather brushing the top of her scull. She winced as he screamed in agony.
Author; Okay, so are you addicted yet? Or are you just hoping I'll get to the point? Some reviews or messages might help. HINTHINT