oleaeuropaea | [Ryslig] INBOX

[This message is sent the day after the event ends. After Pure Vanilla wakes up and has horrible memories of a dream like quality that he, nonetheless, feels is real. His hands, colored in crimson, digging into Vash. Settling around his throat.]

My friend, forgive me if this message is unwanted, but I have... memories, of the last week. I am unsure if they are real, they feel like a dream almost, but they cling in a manner that tells me they are not.

I fear I hurt you. Terribly so. I

May I speak with you? Someplace public, over coffee or tea. I would like to ascertain you are all right. If. Ah. If you would allow it.

Edited 2023-09-25 15:22 (UTC)

[Perhaps Pure Vanilla will think the worst, when Vash takes another day respond. Like Pure Vanilla, he has vivid snippets of what happened between them. The new scars on his body, namely those focused against his ribs, confirm the story his faulty memory tells.

But more than that, he recalls what led up to their meeting — of the lives he himself had taken. That, more than anything, has haunted him as he tries to recover.

Part of him doesn't want to respond. He wants to forget whatever happened during that week. But the idea of someone out there carrying the memory of those sins without some kind of explanation sits even less comfortably with him.

So eventually, a response comes through.]

you're not the only one that should be apologizing.
what you saw, the things i did...

right. in person.
doesn't have to be public, maybe i'd prefer it not be.
but after what you saw, i wouldn't blame you if you'd rather be somewhere safe.
with witnesses.
there's just... a lot i should tell you, after all of that.
things i'd rather not have other people hear.

but it's your choice.

[For a moment, the silence seems to confirm that Vash would rather avoid him. Then the message comes in, and it's enough to lift a tiny weight off him. It also touches his heart that Vash had the exact same idea as Pure Vanilla. A public place, in case the other felt uncomfortable being alone. It makes him smile, even if its a touch sad.]

Private then. I trust you, and I am glad you trust me, despite

[He lifts his finger from the speech to text button. Despite his fingers digging into the body beneath him. He feels ill.]

Do you know the Grapevine? It is my residence and my room is quite private. Sparkling Cookie will be asleep until night time, and will not bother us, and Clotted Cream Cookie has his room in the basement. It should only be us. If this is all right?

[Vash should be saying the same thing. People had died because of him. And he'd relished in it.

But if he focuses on the details, his mind won't go out of control with doubt, with fear of judgement from someone he just barely knew.] ]

i've visited, yeah.
is there a second entrance?
don't want to go knocking on the main door and waking everyone if it's all locked up.

either way.
i'll be there.

... thank you.
for trusting me.

There's the back entrance. I will be waiting for you.

And no, my friend, please. You never harmed me. I will meet you when you arrive.

[Text can't catch the hitch in Pure Vanillas voice.

And true to his word, when Vash shows up, Pure Vanilla will be sitting outside the back entrance. He's wearing a thick sweater to stave off some of the chill of the September morning, and his fingers are nervously plucking at the fibers.

He looks different, as well. His hair is paler, no longer burnt at the ends, and the faint clinging scent of burnt vanilla has faded to a softer scent. Just normal vanilla, woven in with him. His ears flick back and forth, swiveling to pick up the sound of the others approach.]

[Like his companion, Vash comes dressed for comfort. Granted, that comfortable attire isn't all that different than his day-to-day wear. Whether Pure Vanilla remembers or not, the rustle of Vash's clothes sounds far more muffled. He's more padded up, as if protecting himself from something. The tight thermal at least has been switched with a sweater of thicker yarn, though it still pulls up to beneath his chin. His jacket, bright red and familiar, is zipped tight and pulled around him. This very jacket had been missing during their last encounter, its weighty thud not joining the mess of fabric that Vash had discarded before their session.

Which, speaking of thuds, Vash lands not far from the back entrance. With the weather clearing up, and his confidence in his ability to fly with just three wings increasing, he's able to make the journey quickly. Still, he doesn't want to plop right down at the entrance. The sounds of his boots approaching will announce him to anyone trying to hear.

Which would mean Pure Vanilla.

He really only does remember snippets of what happened to him. In there, he remembers carefully guiding Pure Vanilla along. He'd never outright said that he was blind in that moment, but from the pieces he's gathered, Vash goes with the assumption. Thus, he clears his throat gingerly as he approaches, though his hand still lifts in a wave on instinct.]

You're - [He falters here. The man he had met before had insisted on Vanilla. Yet the online moniker his companion had chosen would have indicated otherwise. He errs on the side of caution after a second of hesitation, opting to go with the name that had been spelled out for him.] Pure Vanilla, right?

[He tries to inject his usual cheer into his speech. However, the tone winds up falling flat, even coming dangerously close to morose.]

[He doesn't get to his feet until the voice reaches his ears, unsure if the person approaching was Vash or not. There's relief on his face, half that he showed up and half that he sounds fine (if a little uncertain). It sounds like the other is bundled, even more so than before, and understands it.

His own robes have returned to normal, but he doesn't know that. He's stashed them in the back of his closet, loathe to touch them.]

Yes... Pure Vanilla Cookie. You're... Vash, correct?

[A name in the memory. Spilling from his own lips as he cajoles the other into screaming. He exhales, hard, and his expression tightens a little. There's a lot he wants to say, but Vash requested privacy. He turns a little to open the back door.]

Please, come inside.

[He begins to hold out his hand, the gesture familiar from their last encounter, muscle memory. Then falters mid-way, letting it drop, unsure if he should, before stepping aside to let Vash into the door.]

[That hand stretches out, and Vash reaches for it. Maybe it's a mercy, that Pure vanilla can't see it. Or maybe the sound of his jacket quickly ruffling, then settling back down into place, is evidence enough of what he'd tried to do. He feels guilty for even trying. He knows what his own hands are capable of, after all.

(Some part of his brain reasons that Pure Vanilla, too, is capable of this. But that part is sounded out by the screaming self-loathing that encompasses most of his mind.)

As it stands, Vash waits until they're thoroughly indoors before breathing a sigh of relief. There's something about being in the public eye right now that makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't want to be recognized for what he did, even if he looks so different than he had over the course of that week.

There were so many new faces. And now he'll be — even if only partially — remembered by those deaths. Pure Vanilla is no exception, despite the brief conversation they'd had over the network previously. But at least now he had a chance to rectify that.]

Thank you... for letting me come here. If you're uncomfortable at any point, please tell me. I know what you saw me do was... pretty terrible. But I promise I'm not like that.

[He can get into the details later, but this must be said first.]

[The way Vash's clothes shuffled before, when he extended his hand, has him silent for a moment, as he closes the door behind them. The words from the other wash over him like they're incomprehensible. And maybe, to Pure Vanilla, they are. Because he simply can't imagine Vash apologizing to him.]

Oh... my friend, no.

[Impulsively he reaches out again, his hand blinding seeking Vash's until he can find one to take hold of. He gives it a tight squeeze, then uses it to lead the other up the back stairways to the second floor.]

You do not need to apologize, though I know your heart will not let it rest until you have.

[Because they're the same, and Pure Vanillas heart aches in the need to beg for forgiveness.]

These events that this world puts us through warps us to our very core. And sometimes there is simply no manner in which to fight it.

[The walk down the second floor hallway is quick, before he stops in front of a door. Twisting the handle, he pushes it open, then quickly sticks his leg in the way to prevent a small cakepup from barging out. The tiny thing barges into his leg, grabs a mouthful of wool to yank it vigorously back and forth, then turn and run off, giving Pure Vanilla room to open the door the rest of the way and usher Vash in.

The apartment is rather sparsely furnished, due to Pure Vanilla not needing a lot of things due to his sight, but what he does have looks comfortable and obviously made for relaxing. A couch with thick cushions, an equally squishy looking chair which the cakepup is currently standing in, a toy clamped in his tiny mouth, his eyes fixed on Vash as his tail wags away. A record slash radio player, a desk scattered with books and papers. But mostly? Plants. Herbs of various types. Most of them are medicinal, or used for teas. The only few that stand out are orchids with a center that looks suspiciously like a closed eye, and a ... well. Tubers that look like mandragoras if mandragoras could look entirely too pleased about being fat and healthy in their pots.]

Please... sit. Make yourself comfortable. We can talk at length once you have made yourself at home. Would you like something to drink? Please excuse Lavender, he loves people.

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, NEEDLENOGGIN FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 018.07.154.55 * NEEDLENOGGIN has joined 018.07.154.55 <needlenoggin>hiiiii you've reached vash!. <needlenoggin>** i'm probably sleeping or eating right now so leave something for me and i'll get back to it!

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Some time after October 1st time isn't real

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