[ he had asked why his companion had embraced the Zenith, yes: and the answer comes in a flood Vash was not expecting.
the line where he ends and Cassian begins (Cassian - this sly bitch) and Vash ends fuzzes; blurs. there are moments where there is little separating them, if anything at all; he can feel the hopelessness, the yearning, the grief and loss, the anger, bitter like choking on bile in his throat as if it were his own. he can see planets from the stars in a way he has not since he was a child consumed by tyranny and a sense of profound sadness.
planets lost, cities lost, people lost. time lost, years lost - a hope for this man's own peaceful future, lost. pieces of Cassian's life rush by in painful snippets, leaving nothing but a sense of acceptance and resolve behind.
it has to be - is - incredibly ironic that the man sitting opposite him, seized in this wide-eyed daze as it all washes over him, represents the other side of the coin as if in perfect dichotomy. Vash wants to speak, some visceral desire to undo what's been done overtaking him as the totality of Cassian's feelings pervade him - but it's too late. and like a dream shifting, nonsensical and yet perfectly comprehensible to a dreamer's mind, Vash's regret is swallowed up by the blistering heat of sister suns high in the too-blue sky.
...the sun-scorched deserts of No Man's Land are blinding; there are bodies half-buried in the sand, the wreckages of the SEED ships sitting like broken monoliths in an otherwise empty landscape. countless graves, countless bullets, the heavy stench of gunpowder and grease and blood. so many faces; towns; places. people. children grown older, friends grown older, friends who never got to grow at all. friends turned enemies for a few double dollars; trust betrayed; hopes crushed. so much violence and fear; hands pressed against the glass of a bulb again and again and again; apologies; guilt. exploitation. destruction.
and yet all of it is softened by arms slung jovially around his neck and raucous laughter in a saloon over a game of cards, or by being wrestled down to the ground beneath a gaggle of children pulling at lanky limbs, or the clink of a glass shared with a dark-haired shitty priest, the scent of cigarette smoke drowning out the stench of blood. or a woman's face scrunched with tears - even if you're in the dark right now, the blank ticket in your hand is just waiting to be filled in--
countless, innumerable names and faces he's memorized down to the last reaching out and showing him kindness. so, so many people who struggled in that unforgiving, barren place because they had no other choices. Rem's sacrifice--
Wolfwood.
Cassian was right. just like him, just like everything he's given - it can't all be for nothing. everything... all of it - the people. their struggles, their pain, their desperate bid to keep going, the way they have kept going despite all the odds against them. all the people gone, all the people who gave something precious up along the way, all the people that overcame those who tried to steal everything from them but couldn't--
he believes in them. he believes the bridges will connect, that they will find their hard-earned peace. it will all be for something, and it isn't something anyone can give them.
no subject
the line where he ends and Cassian begins (Cassian - this sly bitch) and Vash ends fuzzes; blurs. there are moments where there is little separating them, if anything at all; he can feel the hopelessness, the yearning, the grief and loss, the anger, bitter like choking on bile in his throat as if it were his own. he can see planets from the stars in a way he has not since he was a child consumed by tyranny and a sense of profound sadness.
planets lost, cities lost, people lost. time lost, years lost - a hope for this man's own peaceful future, lost. pieces of Cassian's life rush by in painful snippets, leaving nothing but a sense of acceptance and resolve behind.
it has to be - is - incredibly ironic that the man sitting opposite him, seized in this wide-eyed daze as it all washes over him, represents the other side of the coin as if in perfect dichotomy. Vash wants to speak, some visceral desire to undo what's been done overtaking him as the totality of Cassian's feelings pervade him - but it's too late. and like a dream shifting, nonsensical and yet perfectly comprehensible to a dreamer's mind, Vash's regret is swallowed up by the blistering heat of sister suns high in the too-blue sky.
...the sun-scorched deserts of No Man's Land are blinding; there are bodies half-buried in the sand, the wreckages of the SEED ships sitting like broken monoliths in an otherwise empty landscape. countless graves, countless bullets, the heavy stench of gunpowder and grease and blood. so many faces; towns; places. people. children grown older, friends grown older, friends who never got to grow at all. friends turned enemies for a few double dollars; trust betrayed; hopes crushed. so much violence and fear; hands pressed against the glass of a bulb again and again and again; apologies; guilt. exploitation. destruction.
and yet all of it is softened by arms slung jovially around his neck and raucous laughter in a saloon over a game of cards, or by being wrestled down to the ground beneath a gaggle of children pulling at lanky limbs, or the clink of a glass shared with a dark-haired shitty priest, the scent of cigarette smoke drowning out the stench of blood. or a woman's face scrunched with tears - even if you're in the dark right now, the blank ticket in your hand is just waiting to be filled in--
countless, innumerable names and faces he's memorized down to the last reaching out and showing him kindness. so, so many people who struggled in that unforgiving, barren place because they had no other choices. Rem's sacrifice--
Wolfwood.
Cassian was right. just like him, just like everything he's given - it can't all be for nothing. everything... all of it - the people. their struggles, their pain, their desperate bid to keep going, the way they have kept going despite all the odds against them. all the people gone, all the people who gave something precious up along the way, all the people that overcame those who tried to steal everything from them but couldn't--
he believes in them. he believes the bridges will connect, that they will find their hard-earned peace. it will all be for something, and it isn't something anyone can give them.
they have already earned it. they built it.
it's all of them. he isn't losing a single one. ]