synflux | November/December catch-all

[Well, it wasn't like they weren't friends before all of that happened, but after the drinking thread Vash is absolutely someone he'd take hits for without hesitation, so. This is the 'you broke it, you bought it' of friendship.]

Me? [Sylvain is going to be so shaken when he realizes he made friends with someone and there's no possible ulterior motivation for a gift, because he's got nothing to offer besides himself in this world.] Oh, I like anything. The way I see it, practical's good when someone notices you need something, and gets it for you before you can take care of it yourself. But sticking with practical's kind of...

[Oh wait, there's a Vegas gift store, he's detouring them inside, if their bosses ask he's fully prepared to lie and say there's some worm bits inside and they were going to investigate on a hunch.]

Impersonal? Lazy? Dunno. I think the best gifts are ones that show you're paying attention, either to what they need or silly stuff that they like.

So it's a mixture! Useful, maybe, but it can be fun too.

( The gift store is airing and bright, the air conditioning running full throttle to combat the desert heat. Vash pulls his coat tighter against his neck and immediately moves to spin the postcard rack. He plucks one free with a giant cartoon worm on it, holding it up so Sylvain can see, waggling his eyebrows as he does so. )

I thought about learning a craft, you know? Like uh, knitting. Then I could make things for people and they could be as serious or as silly as I need to. I have a lot of time to fill now, so it'd be a good chance to.

[Why the fuck is that funny- okay, he's gonna get a worm postcard, and he's absolutely gonna write a message and slide it under his king's door later. At some point, when he remembers- hopefully Dimitri likes cartoon worms.

...is that a worm snowglobe? (A wormglobe, if you will.)]

You should! I think you'd be- [Good might be a lie.] You'd have fun with it. [.........probably.] Don't let your dreams stay dreams.

Yeah! I could make people stuff. Like uh, scarves? And blankets.

( That's what people who knit make, he knows that much. Because they still do it on No Man's Land. The desert gets cold at night, and the sand can whip into people's eyes. Scarves can be handy. But he's busy nosying at the snowglobes now, because what the heck. )

Those are pretty.

( He's just going to violently shake one to peer inside - realising too late there's a little tiny figure of a scantily clad lady inside a martini glass. Then he's promptly putting it down and speed walking towards where the keychains are. ) Why is it all worms? Is this like the movies? People are obsessed with them now?

( DO THEY WANT TO FUCK THE WORMS? )

[He picks up the same snowglobe that Vash had touched, and hastily put down, and his eyebrows raise in interest as he sees the scantily clad lady inside the martini glass and he almost, almost puts it on his to-buy list-

But Vash retreats. A martini glass naked lady (or scantily clad lady) can wait until later, when he's alone. He follows to the keychains.]

You want my serious answer or my stupid answer?

[Choose wisely.]

Actually, they're both pretty stupid. [Choose wiser.]

Why not both?

( Because he wants to know the thoughts going on in Sylvain's head, actually. He's interesting. )

I'm sure they'll only be slightly traumatising, right?

[Terrible. Horrible. He made a point of hiding his thoughts, and then here's Vash, making him want to share them. (Vash really is a bullshit boy magnet, thinking about it. People used to wearing their masks immediately dropping their guard around him.)

But he chuckles. Amused. Pleased. Happy? Having a good time?]

Well, to the people who were here, the worms were probably some big, scary thing, right? [He's taking a worm plush and wiggling it at Vash's head - wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!] The people who weren't right here but in the general area heard an exciting story, and then tourists just knew about them as 'that one thing people killed that one time' and- what I'm saying is that the further you get away from the moment, all you got is a story, and a story is pretty sellable. [Is that the word?] Marketable?

Oh.

( He pauses, expression thoughtful. He supposes it makes sense. People hear stories and get attached to them, especially if there's a degree of separation from the trauma. He thinks that's why a lot of people tell ghost stories. Or ones about mysterious disappearances. It's human nature. But he looks at the worm in Sylvain's hands and thinks about someone making a stuffed animal out of him, as he was in July, one winged and monstrous. It sours something in his stomach, and his face scrunches ever so slightly. )

Gross.

( Not - the people, he can understand that. But the consuming. ) I mean, I get it. But people died.

( Overheard, some woman in the corner eyeing up worm shaped earrings gives Vash an ugly look. He immediately plasters on his brightest smile, but shuffles a little further away, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. ) But it's whatever, you know? People have to deal with things in whatever way they can. I guess it's not so different from the holidays they have back home, you know? Memorial ones. Though that's usually more drinking than trinkets.

Plus...

[Is anyone paying attention to him?...a cute girl is, he reflexively shoots her a smile and a wink, and then leans back in to talk to Vash because honestly, at the moment he's not feeling up to getting his dick wet. It's a weird feeling, but he likes Vash.]

There's a difference between your person dying and someone else's person dying. Your person dying is a tragedy; someone else's person dying is just a part of some bigger story.

[Which makes Sylvain wonder: is this how Faerghus would remember him, remember Dimitri? A series of tragic and terrible deaths, Edelgard's ministers no doubt painting over things and making them palatable, clean - in a generation they'd be some hopelessly ignorant knights clinging to a past, and in five they're the footnote to some-

Now's not the time for this. Sylvain shakes his head, thoughts, gone.] Easy enough when you're not the person mourning.

Hm.

( A quiet little hum. Vash mourns everyone, whether he knows them personally or not, a by-product of feeling irrationally responsible for every living thing. One would assume it would lessen here, when the people's existence on the planet was not his fault, but no. It remains ingrained upon his ribs, written in fine lettering. )

I guess it's just one of those things I know I'll never get. ( But then, a flickering smile, an attempt to brighten the mood. ) Like taxes!

Good. [He says it a bit loudly with a bit too much force, and someone gives him a look, probably - Sylvain doesn't shout it, but it's like some little bit of sentiment dredged up from the hole he's been throwing his feelings into so he can get by, day after day, not that he's fucking miserable but one of those countless things he can't deal with so he puts it aside until later, later, never now, always later. Sylvain can't help it. Because here he is, trying to accept that he's going to end up as a footnote, a cautionary tale, a sexy tragic knight who died for his misguided ways, him and all his friends, so Emperor fucking Edelgard's fucking bloodbath can be whitewashed into something noble and pure and not as dirty as the rest of them-

And Vash, someone who never would see his world, saying no. He'll never get it. He'll mourn, see people as people and not flatten them into a story.]

Don't ever try to get it, Vash. More people should be like you.

[He exhales, a breath he didn't realize he was holding- a shudder, and then.] Sorry.

No, you're okay.

( Quick to soothe, aware he's touched on a nerve somewhere. Behind his glasses Vash's eyes are soft, curious, a little older than his face. But he dredges up a smile either way, puts the knickknacks down, reaches out to press his gloved real hand on Sylvain's shoulder, squeezing lightly. )

Come on, let's get out of here. Maybe they'll be selling kaiju parts at the place with the slushies, we should check it out. Buy a couple just to be doubley sure they aren't contaminated. My treat!

[He wants to rebuff Vash, blow him off somehow, play off his reaction as nothing more than just stress or a joke, but there's a squeeze of Vash's hand and the tension from Sylvain just...

It doesn't quite vanish, in the same way water doesn't quite vanish but the earth does soak up the rain.]

Yeah, at this rate they'll throw us out anyway. [And Sylvain puts down his stuff. There's other places, he can buy things for Dimitri at one of those. Anywhere but here.] Now you mention it, I am pretty hungry.

[It's for the benefit of everyone else. See? He's not being weird, he's just hangry, and if Vash is seeing through him that's fine.]

Slushies and ... fries? They do fries, right. Wait, what's your go-to comfort food? Or the one you grab on the go. Both are different, right? Me, I like donuts. But I also like chips. And jerky.

( Is he ushering Sylvain straight out of the shop? Maybe. It's fine, they're fine, they're having a totally normal time right now and they're all good. The bell jingles. Vash breathes in dusty air the minute they're out. )

[He just listens and makes noises as Vash lists off food. Fries. A noise. Slushies. A slightly different noise, but a related noise. Donuts. A thoughtful noise? Chips and jerky are more of the same.

They're outside. The bell jingles, Sylvain breathes in dusty air-]

Let's get donuts. [He's going to become a donut man at this rate.]

( A little bark of agreeable laughter, Vash pressing his hand to Sylvain's shoulder again briefly comforting before he lets go. )

Donuts! Good choice. They had some fancy ones the last time I was here. I've noticed in the cities they get experimental. I think they were almost shiny. But it's my treat, so you get to pick your poison!

( A beat. )

Hopefully not actual poison.

November/December catch-all

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject