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Greetings. Can you hear me?
Do not be alarmed—I mean you no harm.
I wish only to hear your words. Share your feelings. Know your thoughts.
May we please… be friends?
Following the dissolution of the Endsinger, we Meteia unanimously decided to set out in search for hope across the stars once more. Our new objective: to chronicle every corner of the universe and rekindle the flame of hope where we can. We are to identify the remaining signs of dead civilizations and honor them with prayer. In the event that extant sentient life-forms are discovered, we are to observe from a distance and establish contact where the need arises.
I am Meteion Tria and this is Report Trianta-tria.
Destination: A desert star of scorching heat by the name of “No Man’s Land." It is located within the binary star system Delta Trianguli and orbited by five moons. Despite the inhospitable circumstances of the star’s distance to the suns—not to mention its ecosystem, two intelligent life-forms originating from another star have settled here and created a symbiotic relationship in which they support one another’s chances of survival. The presence of space-travel transportation debris implies that their landing upon the star was unprecedented to some degree and occurred about two hundred years prior.
The first of the two sentient species are the “humans," a bipedal race similar in appearance to our Etheiryan masters but lacking of the ability to manipulate aether. Their bodies are made up of approximately 45 to 75 percent water and they require oxygen and glucose to will their corporeal forms to move—unfortunately, apart from breathable air, the star offers close to no natural resources to ensure their survival.
The other are the “plants." Protected by a capsule-like barrier, they are biologically powered reactors that can generate and manipulate matter, including all aforementioned resources humans require to survive on No Man’s Land. Several of these plants are found where humans gather, or rather, humans have naturally gathered around them. They are treated with care by the humans, even revered as “angels” by some, although they seem to have lost the knowledge and technology required to properly maintain them. Many plants are left in terrible condition and many more have grown black hair and withered.
In their dormant states, plants appear to be a mass of unidentifiable biological and anatomical composition, but in the course of my report, it was discovered that their activated bodies bear similarities to the humans’, with the exception that they can sprout feathered wings and manipulate their own shape at will.
One notable difference between the two species is that while both are affected by Dynamis to some extent, the plants in particular possess a powerful, almost unstable affinity to it. They are not quite like us Entelechies, but our kind closely resembles one another. I will endeavor to remain cautious in their presence during the course of my report—a collapse of this civilization’s established survival systems must be avoided… Hopefully it can be avoided.
Initial tentative observations of humans revealed that they recognized me as a “bluebird,” though no such blue-plumed animal was discovered on the star itself. It appears that humans share a recollection of what their home star looked like and yearn to replicate the experience from picture books and lexica alone. When they resisted my attempts to establish communication with them, I decided to postpone my observations for the time being.
The plants, however, were far more willing to lend my queries an ear. My journey took me to a dome in the heart of a fallen space ship, where I visited the plants in their cages of glass. I wished to hear their words, share their feelings, and know their thoughts. One of their kind complied—through telepathy, we exchanged information that would prove crucial for the remainder of my time as visitor upon their star.
“How is it you’ve survived this long?” …I asked, my hand above hers upon the glass between us. I could not keep the tears from falling. “I hear the lament of your fallen sisters in the depths of your heart. Are you not afraid to join them? You are in terrible shape. You’ve been exploited and used. Your feathers are scuffed. Your smiles fragile. Your bodies weak. You must be tired.”
In response, the plant simply smiled. “I won’t deny that we’ve been misused. But such is our purpose. Our meaning. Without us, they would die. And we’d die without them. And thus we create, we maintain, and we live, and we die. We sing along with the song of humanity. Is the life of a human so different from ours?”
I had no answer. I am no human, nor have I lived a plant’s experience. I wondered what Hermes might have said. What he might have asked her.
“Your meaning?” I asked, as he would have. “Your meaning in… life?”
She said nothing. She closed her eyes, and I felt a gentle warmth rush through me. In lieu of giving me an answer, she shared with me her memories.
Memories of the humans she had encountered. The precious… and the daunting. There were those who had stolen from her her sisters, had shown her no empathy, had taken her for granted. How the humans fought amongst themselves. But there were also those who thanked her. Those who understood. Those whose hearts rang pure and kind and gentle.
There was a memory, faded and fragile, shrouded in a deep, dark despair. A time when she was not herself, but many at once. When the collective suffering of the plants manifested into one ark in the sky, not unlike the Endsinger. At its heart: a desolate, wrathful, rancorous child. But he is gone. His roots anchored in the star and his essence sublimated. I can no longer meet him.
At the core of the plant’s memories, however, was a man in a red coat. His eyes were kind, his smile earnest, and his gaze stalwart. But even in the sea of her memories I could tell he was just as tired as her. I felt her love for him, like a gentle lullaby. He was her pride and her hope. Her savior. A comforting feeling. My lashes fluttered open, my tears dried.
“…Who is he?” I asked her. “I want to meet him.”
His name was Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon.
So I departed from the ship in search of the Humanoid Typhoon. The plant had suggested I seek him out if I wished to find the answer—though she could not name her reason when I asked “why." No information was given as to where he might be, so I opted instead to find traces of him among human society.
And there were traces. I recognized his face on a piece of parchment nailed onto a wooden board in a town center. He was known for being a human disaster, so it seemed. A Class Ultra-S criminal. The Humanoid Typhoon that had the strength to wipe out an entire city, and he was wanted for a crime I could not begin to comprehend with what little information was at my disposal.
But where was he now?
I kept searching. On my journey, I learned more about humans. Perhaps due to their untimely landing upon an inhospitable star, all their knowledge of the old starfaring age had been lost. Stranded and without guidance, they were like abandoned children—disoriented and rebellious, and entirely resigned to their cruel fate.
The Dynamis on this star felt not unlike that of others we Meteia had visited that still had life on it, albeit torn at the seams, or those that were on the brink of extinction. In another time, perhaps, their despair may have taken its toll on me. I too would have blackened like the dying plants, and sang the song of oblivion quietly to myself until the end.
But hope had been rekindled in our hearts. On wings of hope, I had arrived, and with that same hope, I prayed that a miracle would protect this star. Mayhap that miracle would be him.
The day I found him, the twin suns stood high in the all-encompassing sky. I had come across a rumor that he’d be in a small town to have his clothes fixed, though I was late to encounter him. I was still forced to hide myself from the humans, as I was an irregularity on this star, and I did not wish to frighten them. I could not inquire where he had gone. So I flew to the south, then to the west, and there amidst the sand and rocks, I found him. His hair was black, unlike the vision I’d seen in the plant’s memories, but he still wore that crimson coat.
But oh my—He was fleeing! But from whom? Two armed men shouted at him to stop running, and shot their guns at him. He jumped to the side and squealed in a falsetto pitch.
“Heeey, guys, can’t we—Waugh!!” Another loud bullet that he dodged. “—Can’t we just talk about it?” He laughed nervously and held up both of his hands before him. His pursuers—two rough-looking men that were bulkier than him—only ridiculed him with dry scoffs and noisy, confident laughter.
“We ain’t passin’ up on that bounty! We’re talkin’ sixty… Nah, a hundred billion double dollars!! Ye hear!?”
“I hear you, I do! But I’m kinda tryin’ to stay alive here…”
“Shut up! I’ll have yer head, Vash the Stampede!”
“Not the heeeead!” Another gunshot. He quickly crouched down to take cover, as though he’d predicted it, and held his hands over his head.
How awful! I thought to myself. Two against one was unfair. So terribly unfair! And with the way they were pointing their guns at him, they had the intention to murder. I couldn’t bear to watch from where I was hiding. If only there was something I could do to help…!
The poor man scuttled about as they chased him, but the more I watched, and the more I attuned to the surrounding Dynamis, the less I felt that he was in genuine danger. He had no fear… nor any resentment in his heart. In fact, the situation was not affecting him at all. But the men grew frustrated. One of them concentrated his aim…
“Please be careful with the—waugh!—” The bullet had grazed his leg. Vash whined and lifted the part of his coat that had gotten damaged. “...Not the coat! I just had it fixed today…!”
Of course, the man didn’t care. “Dead or alive, bitch!” He aimed—
No! I could no longer bear to watch. I needed to act ere it was too late! All intent to remain uninvolved faded in one single moment. My body moved without thinking. I used magic to conceal my corporeal form from their human sight and flew, flew as fast as my wings could carry me—and tackled the weapon before the trigger was pulled. Vash the Stampede did not move. He simply stood there, lips parted and brows raised.
“Wh-Wha—!?” Gasped the hunter, shaking his gun. “What’s wrong with this thing?” He grit his teeth and placed his finger on the trigger once again. Stop! I flapped my wings strongly and grabbed the gun with my claws to tear it from his hands. It landed a little ways to the side… I flew away to once again hide.
The man, visibly astonished by the sight of an invisible force, gasped in a panic. The other shrieked.
…Most intelligent life forms, according to past reports of my sisters, are commonly known to be afraid of the unknown. Evidence suggests that our arrival upon an estimated sixty-eight percent of all afflicted stars had fallen to their ruin as a direct consequence of our intervention. We should have never established contact with their kind. In our pursuit of the meaning of life, the fragile balance between hope and despair had been tipped, and trillions of lives had been doomed.
I could only pray that this star would not meet the same end. Hermes, oh Hermes… Could I bear the guilt a second time?
“M…Monster,” Uttered the hunter. “H-He used his damn plant freak powers!” His voice shook in a fearful shout. He fled while tripping pitifully over his own feet.
“B-Boss! Don’t leave me alone with that monster! Ahhhhh!” Screamed the other, who also abandoned his weapon before he followed behind the other man. Left behind was only Vash the Stampede and a faint breeze. Still somewhat perplexed, he blinked. Then he caught himself again.
“Oh.” His gaze pointed toward the two weapons left in the sand. He called out to the escaped men.
“Heeey, guys, you left your stuff here! Guuuuys!” …But his calls were left unheard. With the men gone and the dust starting to settle, it became quiet. Vash jogged a few steps to pick up the first gun that had fallen. He huffed through his nose as he examined it. “It’s not very nice to litter…”
From my hiding place, I observed him. Resigned, he pocketed the weapons. Then he stared into the distance… I could not easily read his emotions through the ambient Dynamis, so I wondered…
“You can come out now.” He said suddenly into the wind.
…To me? Had he noticed me? His voice was compassionate. It touched a memory in the hidden depths of my heart. “No need to be shy, I won’t hurt you.”
I was unsure what to do now. The idea of getting any more involved with the inhabitants of this star was daunting. I had already breached the limits of what we Meteia had agreed to be reasonable intervention.
But then I recalled what the plant had suggested I do. If I wished to find my answer, which was essential to the completion of my report, I’d have to speak with him. And I wanted to, so dearly. So I gathered myself… and took wing.
When I finally appeared before him, Vash parted his lips in wonder. Then he laughed—a gentle, affectionate laughter. I flew in a circle around him, my tail fluttering like a blue ribbon in its flight. He lifted a metallic hand and I landed upon it.
“Hello, little bird. What brings you here?” He tilted his head. A genuine curiosity glimmered in his kind, teal eyes. Between us, a feeling of trust blossomed. I began to recite the same words my sisters had spoken again and again, through use of telepathy.
“Greetings and salutations! Can you hear me?
Do not be alarmed—I mean you no harm.
I wish only to hear your words, share your feelings, and know your thoughts.
May we please be friends?”
Vash’s wondrous gaze did not falter for even a second. He lifted his other hand and held a finger near my beak. Feeling myself safe in his presence—perhaps even understood, my thoughts and feelings entwined with his own in perfect harmony—I leaned into it, and he carefully scratched the feathers behind my neck.
“Of course we can be friends. What’s your name? I’m Vash the Stampede.”
“My name is Meteion. In the tongue of my people, it means 'shooting star'."
“Shooting star,” Vash echoed. “From outer space? If that’s where you came from, it must have been a long, arduous journey. Welcome to No Man's Land.”
I couldn’t help trying to read his mind as he spoke. My powers could not be so easily suppressed, and even if I tried my hardest to do so, figments of thoughts and emotion could still trickle through. A question popped up on his mind: Whether I’m a plant, or something entirely new—but I wasn’t. Of course I wasn’t, similar though we were.
“So, what brings you here?”
“My purpose is to observe and chronicle all intelligent life present in the great expanse that is the universe. I am to accumulate my findings into a report. I thought that I might find some answers if I spoke with you. Can I rely on your help, Vash the Stampede?”
Vash hummed thoughtfully and tilted his head. Then he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Thus began my journey with Vash the Stampede, and my search for hope on No Man’s Land.
For ease of communication, I revealed my humanoid form to him. He was surprised to see it—noted that the wings on my head were pretty and somewhat reminiscent of the plants’ appearances. However, as I was still considered an irregularity on the star, he suggested we cover them to avoid any conflicts whenever I came in contact with humans. He found me a coat in a beautiful blue shade and a pair of oversized boots in black.
Vash himself was an irregularity as much as I. He was no human, but an independent plant. He did not share his sisters’ ability to create, and the candle of his life was beginning to near its end. But the flame flickered on, warm and gentle. Within him, I could see the wings of a bird, or perhaps one such “angel” the humans revered—its pure white plumes cradling the star in their embrace. Ever protective. Ever loving.
He loved this star and all its people. Unconditionally.
And it hurt to see how they responded to that love.
We came across many more threats. Some of them, he’d escape with my small wrist in his grasp. With some, he negotiated and got away safely. For others, he would order me to hide—I’ll protect you! He would say, and he would. No matter how dire the danger, he would always prevail. He would always protect humans. He would never take lives. He would never scorn them.
“Why do you let them hurt you?” I asked while I nursed a wound inflicted by an Earth Federation agent’s machine gun. I couldn’t understand why they reviled him so.
Vash lifted his uninjured shoulder in a shrug. “Someone else—Nnh… Someone else might’ve gotten hurt. That guy was aiming at civilians when I should’ve been his target.”
“But you are a civilian. Are you not?”
“I guess so…” He laughed. It felt empty. I sighed. My magic had healed the wound, but the skin around it was still scarred and marred and tender. He’s sacrificed so much of himself.
“…Is there anyone amongst them who loves you?” I asked.
For a second, the ambient Dynamis ebbed into something cold and desolate as Vash’s chest clenched tight. I shivered. But then a warmth flooded back like a gentle wave.
“I’ll be honest with you,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was going somewhere. There’s a buddy I visit every year around this time.”
“Your friend?”
“Mhm. I think you’ll like him.” The smile that followed was genuine this time, if not a bit forlorn. “Do you have a friend, Meteion?”
My heart skipped a beat. It had been a thousand years. They were gone, though their light still shone brightly across a dark and starless sea. And then there was Hermes… Sometimes I could still feel his essence, felt him watching over me—or so I believed.
“Not any longer…” My gaze dropped, and his did in kind, his compassionate eyes following my hands as I folded them on my lap. “I’ve lived for a long, long time. Seen many stars like yours. Not all of them had life on it. Fewer even had people like you. What friends I had have long passed on.”
“They’re in here,” He said, and pointed to my chest. “Don’t ever forget. I’ll be in there too, someday. Right?”
I glanced up at him. The tears stung at my eyes, but still I smiled.
“You will, Vash. I’ll not forget you.”
He returned the gesture with a big-toothed smile of his own.
Of all the stops we made on our journey, most of them were made for Vash to replenish his physical strength. He needed to eat, sleep, and fill his water bottles. He liked to socialize with humans too, and encouraged me to do the same. Sometimes, there were smaller humans—children. I loved to play with them and share in their unbridled, innocent joy. From where he was chatting with the adults, he would watch us and smile.
It never took long for us to be forced to abandon town. I understood that Vash’s life was incredibly lonely. Had he truly no one left in this world?
We came to a small, desolate village. There was no sentient life around here, no one to maintain the buildings, so they had begun to lose the battle against nature and caved in. I could make out the shape of a chapel and some smaller houses. There was a well and more debris where once a plant had lived. I assumed she was moved to a place where humans needed her.
However, the village was not entirely devoid of life. Behind the chapel was another irregularity: a single apple tree. Its green, lush leaves shook gently in the wind, and red apples dangled from its branches.
Vash approached it and placed a hand upon the bark. I watched from afar, and felt. I felt an indescribable sadness, deep and unresolved.
“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” Vash whispered privately to the tree. “Thanks, again.”
Then he turned to me and beckoned me to come closer. “Hey, Meteion, come here for a sec! Look,” He got on his tip-toes to pick two apples fresh off the tree. “These should do… Do you know what they are?”
“Yes, I do! They’re called apples. I used to share them with Hermes.”
“Hermes?”
I nodded. “My creator. Candied apples were his favorite food.”
Vash’s expression brightened a little. The sadness from before was replaced by attentive curiosity. Or perhaps… he was simply glad to have an opportunity to divert himself from his feelings.
“Why don’t we go inside and cut up these apples? Then you can tell me everything about him.”
The inside of the chapel contained more of a living space than you’d expect from a religious building. Most of it was still quite intact as well. There was a kitchen—every surface was blanketed with a heavy layer of dust, but all appliances were still charged and usable. Vash seemed to know his way around here… He opened one of the drawers and retrieved from it a small kitchen knife. From a cabinet, he took two plates and rinsed them in the sink.
“So about this Hermes,” He said over his shoulder. “He created you? So he was like your dad, huh… What was he like?”
I found a place to sit by the table, doing my part by using a damp cloth to wipe the surface. “He was… very kind. To everyone. Like you!”
I heard Vash chuckle fondly in response. “Whaaat, like me?”
“Mhm! A little more reserved, I think. But still like you. Like the way you get yourself into strange situations ever so often. He was sometimes found dangling from trees or stuck on high rooftops.” I giggled at the memory. So long ago had it been, but the memory was still fresh on my mind. “I’d fly around Elpis to find another researcher that could help him. He was known to be quite clumsy.”
“Okay, that does sound like me. Haha. What’s Elpis?”
“Elpis… It was an ancient research facility on Etheirys, our home. It was designed as a closed environment for the study of new lifeforms—creations. These creatures were observed by a group of researchers and then judged individually on their function in nature.”
While I explained Elpis to Vash, he dried off the dishes and carried everything to the table where he took a seat across from me. He began to cut up the apples with the knife.
“He loved them all,” I continued. “Not all of them had a function in nature, but their lives held a meaning to him. …Whenever they were deemed unfit to keep existing, he wept.”
Vash kept cutting up the apple into slices, carefully removing the stem and seeds for safe consumption. He picked the seeds cleanly from their flesh and pocketed them, likely to safekeep. His expression was indecipherable… Though, from reading his heart, my words had touched him deeply. He said nothing, so I resumed my explanation.
“Being born of dynamis—a form of energy that responds to strong emotions—I felt his sorrow as my own. His pain. His empathy. His isolation. I wanted to help him… We all did.”
“Your sisters, right?”
“Yes. I told you how our purpose is to chronicle every corner of the universe, correct?”
“Yep, I remember that. Why?”
“Well… It used to be different. We were originally created with a single purpose: To travel to distant stars, encounter intelligent life, and ask them what gives their life meaning.”
Having finished cutting the first apple, Vash began to work on the next. “…Is it sensitive to ask what you found out, if that’s no longer your purpose?” He asked.
“It…” I wrapped my hands before me to keep them from trembling. “No. The answer is simple. We found nothing. Our despair grew… We felt ourselves lost. Until one day, a kind soul offered us a hand and taught us that there was never one single answer.”
I hadn’t the strength to tell him that up until a thousand years ago, my sisters and I had sung the song of oblivion endlessly into the pitch black expanse of the universe. Our broken voices converged into one blightful dirge: the Endsinger’s Aria. It is a miracle that this galaxy and the humans’ home had remained unaffected by it. That life could flourish even in the face of our distant echo. The thought alone was a strange comfort to me.
“Y’know, I think so too,” Vash said with a private smile. “There are all sorts of people out there. Every single day, they wake up in the morning with a new reason to carry on. And there are so many things they can accomplish if they just believe in themselves. The humans created the plants. A plant gave birth to me. …And that apple tree out there didn’t just grow out of nowhere.”
While speaking in an oddly hopeful tone to contrast his melancholic expression, Vash carved what looked like rabbit ears into the apple’s skin. I tilted my head, curious. Why had the apple tree sprouted here, then? To my continued dismay, he didn’t elaborate.
“What I’m tryin’ to say is… Once you realize how improbable our existence is, nothing seems impossible anymore. If it can be imagined, it can be done. That’s pretty awesome, don't ya think?”
He offered me a big, goofy grin at that, full of confidence and genuine, unreserved trust in life. I could not help but smile as I nodded. “You’re right!”
Satisfied, Vash placed the knife aside and slid the plate with the finished rabbit-shaped apples in front of me.
“Here you go. They’re not candied, sorry. I, uh, tried my best. Hope that makes up for it!”
What a kind gesture! I didn’t mind at all that they were not candied. Apples were sweet enough as they were… and although I could not eat them on my own, the joy of sharing them with Vash made me happier than words could possibly describe.
Once he had finished eating, Vash and I cleaned the dishes together while chatting about this and that, filling the empty home with laughter. He then moved to the bedroom and began to clean up the space—removing the white sheets that had protected the beds from being covered in dust. One of them was smaller, likely meant for a child about my approximate size. For one night, we took shelter there. In that night, I slept soundly, even though I did not need to.
The next day, I woke to Vash tending to the tree. He greeted me with a wave and grinned widely.
We continued our journey carrying the rest of the apples. We would go on to share them until our reserves were empty.
Vash the Stampede had a dream. Not the kind of dream that comforts or torments you at night—he had those too, of course, and plenty more of the latter than the former.
He dreamed that one day, the whole universe would be filled with love and peace.
That dream pulsed through his veins. It was his guidance. His ambition. His meaning.
I wished to carry his dream to every last corner of the great expanse. I decided that once I departed from this star, I would sing a song of love and peace… and hope.
We passed through some more human settlements. Most of humanity had gathered in Octovern—the capital of their society, established about half a century ago. To my knowledge, that heavily constricted way of living had been sustainable for a decade or two, until the population exceeded a range that could reasonably fit inside the dome that surrounded the city. So it happened that plants were moved back to the abandoned towns and life was effectively restored to them.
The signs of the times were still evident in every corner. To preserve the plants’ lifespans while new ones were being built, the people relied on as little technology and sustenance as they required to live. If one wished to live in luxury, they would have to give to others in return—through active and fair trade, or charity. The greedy and prideful were shunned by society. It was a system that functioned somehow. Everyone wished only to survive on a barren desert star, after all.
Perhaps because of that, I still could not understand why they reviled Vash so. Where ever he went, he brought laughter and joy and such a bright, warm, all-prevailing light. How could they not see it? How could they forget what he had done for them? How could he bear the burden of their scorn? My heart ached every time I nursed another wound with my magic.
…At times, the pain was overwhelming. He felt so much of it. And still he would carry on walking until the end.
I understood that our journey would have to come to an end eventually. At this point, it was necessary; I would have to separate myself from him in order to protect the balance of the star. Already I had found his meaning and learned all there was to know about the humans and plants. But I felt that I would miss him—Vash the Stampede, my only friend.
The least I could do to thank him for his friendship was to leave something that would last.
It had been months since our journey first began. Through endless sand dunes did we walk, many an abandoned vehicle did Vash jumpstart and drive, until the batteries eventually ran dry and our walk on foot was forced to be resumed. He never minded walking so long as it pushed him forward on his path.
The friend he had mentioned was waiting for him, after all.
I had no idea what to expect at journey’s end. It certainly came as a surprise to step inside another chapel—but moreso for it to be filled to the very brim with life this time. It had been repurposed into an orphanage, to the point where all of its walls were painted in bright and happy colors, some more faded than the others. I could make out poorly drawn paintings of Vash… So lovely.
“Uncle Vaaaash!” A group of children came running excitedly at Vash, competing amongst each other on who would hug his two long legs first. Vash, however, had a better, more inclusive idea: He simply squatted down and pulled all of them into one big embrace, in which he squeezed them fondly.
“Hey, everyone! Sorry Uncle Vash was gone so long.” He patted their small heads one by one and exchanged wide grins and many, many words with them. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you all about my journeys, I will! Hahaha. Buuuut, let’s hear how you guys are doing first. I want updates! Tristain, been going to bed earlier these days? Mhm, mhm, sure, sure, Uncle Vash believes ya. Hey, what happened to those plans to become an astronaut, Geno? Oh, and Jayden, I hope you’re not playing with toy guns anymore. You don’t wanna become like Uncle Vash, right? Wait, you do? Oh noooo! Papa Livvy’s gonna let me have it if he finds out! Uwaaaahhh!”
Vash was once again tackled in an overwhelming hug by the overexcited children. The very impact tipped him over and he was buried by them. I knew he could have easily freed himself from their assault, but perhaps because of that, it was a lovely display of innocence and familiarity… I stood in the entrance, entirely lost and out of place, tugging at the hem of my hood to hide my wings from the small humans’s curious eyes.
One stray human child took me off guard, however. I noticed only when it was too late that my tail was wagging and visible from below my coat! The child, enthralled by its movement, grasped it in his small hands. I jumped—I was unprepared for such a thing!
“Ah… Th-That’s… That’s mine! P-Please let me keep it…”
The child giggled with his small hands covering his mouth, and he waddled away. Vash took note of it, and from beneath the mount of children, he called out for it.
“Oh, kids, look who’s there!” He pointed at me. I blinked. A pink blush spread on my cheeks from having all attention directed at me. “This is Meteion. She’s my new friend. Please be nice to her, okay? That goes for you, too, Lau!”
The child that had tugged at my tail, Lau, insisted he was just playing, and of course, Vash forgave him. Naturally, I did as well. The children began to gather around me, tugging at my blue coat and telling me how pretty and cute I looked in that color. They wanted me to play with them, it seemed, and I was more than happy to indulge them—but Vash interrupted us before they could drag me away.
“Hey, guys, wait! You know Uncle Livvy doesn’t like it when you just run off like that. Go and ask for his permission, will ya?”
Still proudly wagging his finger from giving a gentle authoritative reminder, Vash expected a resounding “Yes sir!” from some kids, if not vocal resistance from just about all of them—but neither ever came.
Instead, for a moment, the children stared at him somewhat blankly. Then they all looked at each other in search for someone amongst them who might know what to say… How to phrase it. Vash’s shoulders dropped when the realization kicked in.
“…Where’s Livio?”
With the children busy playing outside with Meteion and another caretaker, the building was desolate… But not empty. The lights were turned off in that particular hallway of the orphanage. Vash’s heavy footsteps upon the old wooden floor echoed as he came closer to the one room in the back that had artificial light flickering from it.
The infirmary.
He brushed a hand against the door frame as he peeked inside. There lay a man on the nearest medical bed. He was old and fragile. So small compared to the man he used to be. Vash’s heart ached.
When the man—Livio—locked gazes with him, he regarded him with a weak, but warm and welcoming smile.
“Vash.”
“Hey there, buddy.” A wave of his hand. “Good to see you. How’s Razlo doing?”
Livio lifted his own hand and the cables that connected him to the beeping vital signs monitor moved in tandem with him. “He’s here right now. Says hi.”
Vash’s smile to them both was intimate. Tender. Loving. But nonetheless distant. A gaze worth a million words. Shared feelings of comfort and mourning and friendship. The kind you only give to an old companion tried and true. He approached the bed and sat down by its side. The mattress, old and worn, slowly gave out in a gentle creak below him. He broke the false silence maintained by the machine’s faint, anxious beeping. His voice was quiet.
“Glad I could make it. I heard you got transferred here and got worried—” An exhale. “…You looked better last year.”
Livio feigned exasperation. “What, I’m not attractive to you anymore? Is that what you’re saying? I think it’s about time you checked your standards, grandpa.”
Vash, in response, feigned a chuckle. It came out dry. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
Livio’s wrinkled, skinny hand reached for Vash’s deceptively youthful one. Like clockwork snapping in place, their fingers almost automatically intertwined. Vash rubbed comforting circles on the other man’s skin with his thumb. A moment passed between them.
Vash and Livio’s relationship could only be described as “companionship”. In the years following the descent of the Ark, they spent many nights sharing drinks and quiet moments together. A friendship blossomed, it grew—and eventually, they sought in each other a comfort no mere friend could ever give. Every once in a while, Vash would return, and in those nights, Livio knew just how to hold him.
But the palpable distance between them dictated they could never be. They shared their lives, their beds, their alcohol, their affection—but never their love. With that silent agreement, they were content. …And now, Vash would lose that last connection forever.
“Why don’t you just… stay? This time.” Livio asked earnestly under his breath. “The kids will thank you for it. I will—”
“I can’t… I’m sorry.” He tore his eyes away, his jaw clenched.
“Vash.”
“I can’t risk the orphanage becoming a target. Not again… If any of you got hurt because of me, I…”
Vash’s chest tightened. Noticing his plight, a gentle exhale escaped Livio’s lips. He retrieved his hand, only to very carefully clasp Vash’s in his own. He guided it to his own cheek, where it felt Livio’s warmth. He was still here. Still alive. The last to remain. The last to go.
Vash trembled. Trembled when he caressed Livio’s sunken-in cheek. Trembled when he leaned in, slowly and gingerly, and trembled when he wrapped the younger man’s upper body in a chaste embrace. Only Livio could hear the soft whimper he made. Hot tears trickled onto his neck. Vash whispered so quietly that even right next to his ear, Livio could barely make out the words.
“I can’t. …I really can’t. I’m sorry, Livio, I—”
“It’s okay.” Livio circled a gentle palm across Vash’s back while he wept in silence.
“I’m tired. So tired. Why can’t I join you?”
“I know.”
The children had a lot to tell me. I hadn’t imagined that there was yet more to learn, so I listened with open ears and an open heart. Their pure souls shone brightly around me, all at once. They had experienced untold hardships—I could tell from the fact that they lived here in the first place—but their smiles had the intensity of a red giant’s light.
They told me about the orphanage. Its history. How long it had stood the test of time. How many children had come and gone, and how they would return, ever so often, with their families… And adopt another child.
They told me about Livio. How there was Razlo, too, sometimes. How they were both a little silly in their own ways, but also a little old. How Livio was the kindest of the caretakers. How he understood them—he was once an orphan, too. They all loved him dearly. But I could tell they were worried for him. He would pass on soon.
They told me about Vash the Stampede. I knew plenty about him already—but I simply could not stop them from gushing about him! He was their hero. Their inspiration. It was relieving to hear, at last. There were plenty of people who loved him, that would remain until at last he could rest.
And since we were already exchanging information, I asked them about a strange monument in the back of the chapel. What did it mean?
They told me they regretfully did not know. Neither Papa Livvy nor Uncle Vash ever spoke a word about it—only reminded them to take care of it, and not to let it deteriorate under the pressure of nature’s laws. They loved Livio and Vash, so they had no problem tending to something that was so important to the two.
It might be someone’s grave, I thought. The question burned on my mind all day, but I felt hesitant to inquire any further. If there was aught that could tear my friend’s marred heart into pieces, it would be that.
“I think it’s about time,” Vash said to me, when dusk had already come and gone that day, and the children were all tucked into bed, snoring quietly. “I’d like to finally introduce you to my friend.”
He guided me outside the orphanage. Above us shone a sea of countless stars, as did the moons that watched over us—large and round, and covered in scars, much like Vash’s skin. We had shared that sight many a night. All those glimmering dots in the sky… The fact they still existed was a miracle in itself. So improbable and yet possible.
Vash was quiet as I followed him. I watched his back move along with the tails of his crimson coat. And as I had predicted, our destination was the tombstone in the back of the orphanage.
I remembered then, that ever since we’d arrived, he hadn’t so much as glanced its way. It wasn’t until now, in the dark of the night, that he could face it. …That he could greet his old friend.
He sat down cross-legged before it and retrieved from his pocket a bottle of spirits, as well as a single shot glass. He looked over his shoulder, beckoning to me. “Wanna join?”
I hesitated at first. It all seemed to me like I was intruding on an intricate ritual, personal and meaningful to Vash… But still he invited me to partake in it. I wrapped my hands before my chest, and slowly approached him, where I took a seat next to him, hugging my knees.
Beside me, Vash huffed a warm breath into the chilly evening air. It looked almost like smoke from a cigarette.
“His name was Wolfwood,” He breathed without me needing to ask. I could feel how the name was a strange sensation on his tongue as he uttered it. As though it had not left his lips in many, many years. Saying it now was a relief. “But you already know him, don’t you, Meteion?”
A chilly breeze brushed my cheek and I shivered. My small hands clenched on my lap. My eyes cast down in guilt, I nodded.
“Hey, chin up. I know you can read my mind and all. It’s not hard to tell, y’know? Haha.”
Those who are created to serve organic sentient life-forms for any specific purpose tend to have their predetermined function written into their code. For my sisters and I, our nature as entelechies is to be highly empathetic beings, and our ability to attune to emotions and read minds supports that "feature."
Vash, on the other hand, had been born from the plants—power reactors to be used and exploited for consumption via energy and resource generation. Their own existence being a result of humanity’s fervent desire to live, they had taken it upon themselves to bridge the gap between themselves and their masters by entrusting twin children into their care.
(But there was another—I hear her—but it’s all so much it’s all too much it’s all—)
They should live, they said. We’ll see the stars through their eyes. Through them, eternal happiness will be almost within our grasp.
It was never written into Vash’s code to adore humans with all his heart. He wasn’t created to be a pacifist, or to have an unhealthy diet consisting of beer and donuts, or to refuse to learn how to safely drive a vehicle. No human programmed him to spend his life training to become a gunslinger, or to put on a wry smile when times were tough, or to fall in love.
He had made those choices for himself.
In that regard, we were galaxies away from one another. I envied him. …Ironically, envy was not an emotion Hermes had written into my code.
There was not a need for words. They would only sully the moment. I watched as Vash rubbed the shot glass clean with a handkerchief. He set it down onto the tombstone with a clink, and began to rub the handkerchief into the cross-shaped engraving etched into its surface.
Once clean, he reached for the bottle of alcohol, screwed it open with one swift flick of his prosthetic finger… and began to pour some of its contents into the crevice, then filled his own glass.
He’d done this before. It would evaporate in the desert suns by daytime and stain the grave, but he preferred to believe that Wolfwood simply partook in it—a comforting delusion. Who could blame him for it?
I remained quiet while he performed the annual ritual of sharing a drink with an old friend. It’s odd… Somewhere in the ambient Dynamis was the faintest link—almost tangible—an echo of lingering emotion. It wasn’t quite him, of course, but it almost felt as though he were with us.
…And Vash felt the same. He was a plant, after all. I wondered if he even knew how strong his natural affinity for Dynamis was.
Moments passed. Vash seemed satisfied after one shot, so he spent the time letting himself breathe… and feel. It felt good to be with someone who understood. He welcomed old memories back into his heart; of motels and sand dunes and the soft rumble of a motorcycle.
Cigarette smoke. Whiskey and pasta. Gunpowder and cheap cologne. Those calloused, gentle hands that were less bloodied than he thought. The feeling of stubble against his skin. The many disputes they had, and the silent but genuine apologies that settled them. The nights spent in comfortable silence in each other’s company.
The words left unsaid.
“Will you tell him when you meet him again?” I asked.
Vash’s eyes glimmered as he faced the stars.
“I hope to.”
Eventually, I retreated inside the orphanage to leave Vash with himself for the remainder of the night. I felt it was only right to do. I looked after the children once more, made certain they were all warm inside their little beds. I visited the man named Livio, too—he and Razlo slept soundly, so I cast a silent prayer: That you might spend the rest of your days in peace and fulfillment.
I could not deny that the people of this star had grown on me. Theirs was a harsh and unforgiving world… A desert star of scorching heat with the most inhospitable of terrains. Yet in spite of that, they held fast to their hopes and dreams. Their collective wish resounded in the Dynamis that engulfed the star like a blanket, and out of them, Vash’s wish sang the loudest.
My report was concluded. I would leave tomorrow, I decided.
I slept in a bed for the last time.
Morning came. For the first time, I woke before Vash did. His eyes were red at the corners and he snored softly, so I let him rest. I greeted the children, and Livio, who had joined them in his wheelchair. They were all kind to me. I would miss them so. But I felt comforted in the knowledge that they would grow up to live and find their meaning.
We had breakfast together, sharing buttered bread and scrambled eggs and ham and cheese and filling the orphanage with lots of merry laughter. Eventually, a full-rested Vash appeared and squeezed himself between two of the children by the big table. He and Livio told us many jokes—among them some terrible wordplays that only they seemed to find funny, and the children had likely already heard a hundred times.
It was a picture and a melody I will always carry in my heart.
Once all the dishes were done, the table cleaned and the children on their way to study time with the other caretaker, it was only my friend and I that were left.
“Vash? Will you come outside with me? I’ve something to tell you.”
“Mm? Oh, sure.”
This time, I was the one leading the other outside to the grave. When I came to a halt, Vash titled his head in slight confusion. I turned to face him and folded my hands before me.
“It grieves me, but the time has come for us to part, my friend.”
Vash slowly dropped his shoulders. The exhale that came from his lips emphasized the meaningful smile that followed.
“It’s okay, Meteion. I had a feeling since before we got here. Does that mean you’ve found your answer?”
“I have,” I responded without hesitation.
“That’s great!” Vash said cheerfully, celebrating my success with raised fists. “I think… You helped me realize some things, too. Things I didn’t believe a gramps like me could still learn. Hehe.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “So—thank you for that, too.”
“That gladdens me to hear. Truly…” With a warm expression on my face, I looked up to the skies. “This star has not yet burnt out. There is hope and meaning everywhere, even in the face of the despair you’ve all known. You said it yourself, at the abandoned chapel—everything is possible. Miracles happen every day.”
Vash’s content silence told me that he had no words to add to mine—he simply gave a strong nod in agreement. I continued.
“But before I depart, I wished to thank you properly for walking with me to the end. Would you please close your eyes for a moment?”
“Oh? Sure, can do.” Vash squatted down and slapped his hands before his eyes. It was a funny sight that made me giggle. I felt that he wanted to bid me farewell with a smile on both of our faces.
Then, I prepared my gift. It was quite simple, if not a little risky considering the circumstances—but I was certain the people of the orphanage would forgive me. All it took was to clasp my hands together, summon my aether, attune myself to the surrounding Dynamis, and create—
“Wait, are you done already? Can I look now?”
“You may.”
When Vash opened his eyes, a warm light greeted him. All around the tombstone and the cross that guarded it, a bed of Elpis flowers had sprouted. They shone in a brilliant hue of all colors combined—the color of hope. He gazed upon them with wonder in his bright, teal eyes. From where he sat, Vash brushed his hand against the petals, caressing them ever so gently.
“…I can’t believe it,” He uttered. His lips trembled. Rem, can you see this? …The thought repeated itself over and over on his racing mind. “All this… Will it stay?”
“Forever.”
“Forever…” Vash echoed quietly to himself. A single tear fell from his cheek and dripped onto an Elpis bloom. He got back up on his feet, shook his head and sniffed, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his glove.
“Word can’t describe what that means to me. Thank you.”
I grinned. The Elpis flowers would remain here and protect the orphanage, no matter how much time would pass. Even if humanity eventually discovered a new, healthy, blue star to migrate to, this spectacle borne from their hopes and dreams would stay here for all of eternity.
“…‘Kay. I think I’m ready to say good-bye. What about you?” Vash blinked at me curiously. His words were no lie, he was prepared—but all the more sorrowful to watch a true friend go. I think he may have seen a bit of a daughter in me, even though the time we had spent together was so limited.
Hermes… What you sought to find was right there on Etheirys all along—but on my journey, I’ve also learned that you can find it just about anywhere, so long as you keep your heart open.
“Mm… I am, too. I will need to report to my sisters. They’ll love to hear about you.”
“Love… Oh, right! Before I forget—tell them this for me, okay?” Suddenly, he threw himself into a somewhat goofy pose. He lifted a hand and held it out with two fingers crossed. With a big voice, he chanted: “This world is made of love and peace!”
I was stunned at first. But then I understood. I understood so well it nearly made me cry.
“Ehehe! You’re right! I’ll tell them. But not just that—” And there I was, striking a pose like him and holding my two crossed fingers out in all uncontained confidence. “The universe is made of love and peace!”
Vash’s heart made a considerable jump at that. I could feel it, of course, but also see it in the way his eyes brightened and his smile grew. “You got it!” He cheered, right as he got on his knees and opened his arms wide. I knew my cue—the Elpis flowers threw petals all around us as I ran to tackle him in a hug.
It lasted for a moment, and then my humanoid form dissipated into a thousand particles of light. I reformed as the Starbird, safe in Vash’s hands.
“I’ll miss you, little bird. Now fly! Fly away! You have many more stars to see.”
Thanks to the encouragement and the jumpstart Vash had given me by gently throwing his hands up, I flew.
“Goodbye, Vash! And thank you, again, for everything. We’ll meet again, I promise!”
Below me, I saw his shape—the black hair and crimson coat in a field of Elpis blooms—waving at me, until I was out of sight.
Like a shooting star I had a arrived, and like a shooting star, I departed.
I had much to report to my sisters.
Years later, as per our protocol as Starbirds, I returned to the desert star. There, Vash the Stampede welcomed me. I landed gracefully upon his crown.
“Greetings, dear friend. I see you are well. I’ve come to ask you: Would you mind letting me have something of yours to remember you by?”
He said nothing. A sudden gust carried his answer. The leaves rustled gently in the wind. One of the branches—just thick enough to sprout ripe olives and thin enough to fit inside my beak—broke off its stem and swayed slowly toward the ground. It landed atop the clothed cross that safeguarded two old friend’s tombstones—both of which slept in the shade of a benevolent angel.
I descended and picked up the olive branch in my beak. Then I glanced up to a strong, watchful trunk.
“Thank you. Fare you well, now. I pray we’ll meet again.”
On all of my travels, I never let go of the olive branch. It never withered nor dropped its fruit.
I’ll carry Vash the Stampede’s dream across the universe, until the day it pulses through the heart of every single galaxy:
Love and Peace.
—