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No matter how hard Vash tried, he could never seem to crack the code of being consistently palatable.
It was easy when he was younger. Though his first few encounters with people certainly didn’t set the right tone for him to be perceived like them, with time he was able to dispel any fears by putting effort that way. Holding himself back if he wanted to crouch or bend in some unusual way, reminding himself to blink his eyes at the same time, and make sure to not let his mouth open too wide.
It all took more effort then he had sometimes, and that was when he’d slip up.
A stray movement here and there being just enough to make anyone near by recoil slightly, or even outright draw away in obvious horror. His blood, if you could call it that, would run cold in those moments. A pit quickly forming in his stomach and forcing him to sputter out an embarrassed apology before disappearing.
He may have been young, but there could be no excuses for setting himself out at this point. He needed this place to be his home. If he lost this place, then only god could know what would become of him then.
Which, of course, he ended up finding out a lot sooner than he would have anticipated. Making it all the more important for him to be able to pull off this facade of humanity for longer periods of time.
After all, every time he’d slip up a new scar would be added to his back.
It was almost amusing to him how consistently humans would fall into genuine terror when they’d see him now. He’d be putting up his best mask, and they’d still find an excuse to go running to the hills. Or to try and string up him for their own gain.
The posters didn’t help anything, sure, but before those got posted around every corner he’d still find himself being chased down for one purpose or another. People took one look at him and either wanted to use him, or want to possess him. And the few friends he was able to make during this time period always felt tentative. None of them were ever allowed to see him as he really was, so to call them his friends- as humans defined the term- felt incorrect.
Still though, he’d go along for it as long as he could. At least until he had to get going onto the next town.
And then the next.
And the next.
And the next.
And-
Well, you get the point.
Being around for hundreds of years will do that to you, of course. Going from one place to another, often times at multiple different points of time, with no really end in sight. Just grasping at the small scraps you can, until you eventually end up back at the ship you’ve found a brief family in. At least, until they go back to sleep again. Then your just- back at square one. It hurts too much for Vash to think about most times, so he’s found himself preferring other grim rabbit holes over it.
Really he’d prefer for none of his thoughts to be full of doom and gloom, but with so much time to waste he can’t help it much anymore. Especially, if it happens to pertain to how he’s seen.
His body never could be perfect.
He could never get everything into place just right.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much practice he had, and not matter how much time he was given there was always going to be a bone in the wrong place; an eyeball stretched a little too wide, or a smile twisted in the wrong direction.
There was always something wrong with him.
People could pass him by on the street maybe, only doing a double take every once in a while, but that didn’t stop the staring when they’d really notice. And at that point was when he had to fight with himself to see if it was because he was the infamous Stampede, or that he was just doing a poor job of being human again.
Always a gamble.
Always doubting.
Always–
“Hey, Needle-Noggin!” coarsely cuts through his thoughts suddenly.
Slowly he blinks back into the dusty reality around him. Right, he was camping out with his current set of campions. He wasn’t in town. There weren’t too many eyes on him. There was only this small group of people by his side. A small group of people, who already knew that he wasn’t entirely what he appeared to be.
Tilting his head to one side, making sure his neck didn’t crain too far, he mutters out a small “Yeah?” His voice sounding as distant as the city of July right now. He couldn’t really be present, he needed to make sure that nothing slipped out while he was regaining his composure. So his thoughts continued to lead him away from the present moment.
Though it would seem Wolfwood wasn’t having it as he harshly snapped his fingers in Vash’s face. “No more of that now, it was getting creepy enough as is.”
“C-Creepy!” He can’t help but exclaim, recoiling at how much panic had just laced his voice as he did he reaches up and puts a hand over his voice. Quickly glancing around at the others at camp, still thankfully asleep, before he presses Wolfwood. “What about it was, creepy?”
There’s a brief pause, Wolfwood’s eyes slowly go over the entity in front of him trying to figure out what was happening here. While Vash’s hands desperately grasp at one another trying to remain as put together as possible.
On the ship it’d been remarked on how inhuman he appeared at certain points, but they were never willing to fully explain to him what was wrong with what he was doing. Rather they preferred to briefly comment on it and move on as quickly as possible. And he’d experienced people telling him he was “odd” or “strange” a few times, but nothing like this. Not when the person actually knew that he wasn’t one of them. Comments by a stranger were one thing, but this was Wolfwood talking now. Meryl Roberto, and Wolfwood have seen what the rest of the world couldn’t. They’d look him straight in the eyes as his insides became his outsides again.
Human became plant in one fell swoop.
Never to go back to being what he was before.
“You weren’t there, I guess.” He finally answers, “You may have your shades on, but I’ve got a good enough angle to see in your through them. And they just looked– hollow.”
Vash balks at this explanation, it wasn’t ever something he’d had to think about before because every human zone out once and awhile. It was just something people did. However, Wolfwood knew him now. So a concept like that came with an new meaning to it.
“Hollow, that’s a new one.” He mutters, mostly to himself. His hands instinctively begin to move backwards, clinging onto his coat as he takes in a deep breath. Little joints popping all the while, Wolfwood’s eyes widening in confusion, as he lets out a long, heavy, sigh. “I’m not sure I can fix hollow.”
As his body deflates back to normal Wolfwood tries to process how he just watched Vash expand in front of him. Taking in his one sigh he just decides that that is a topic for another time. Needle-Noggin clearly had other things on his mind than explaining to him how his body functioned half the time. Instead he chooses to focus on the topic at hand, “Why would you need to fix it?”
That question properly gets Vash’s attention. Where before his head had returned to the upright position, and he’d been staring straight forward into the expanding desert, now it turns back to Wolfwood. His full attention now being placed on the person asking him why he needed to fix what was clearly an issue. “If it needed to be commented on, then there had to be something wrong with it. That’s what you meant when you wanted me to stop, right? You found it uncomfortable and you didn’t–”
“Needle-Noggin,” Wolfwood interrupts him before he can even begin to let out all of his rambling thoughts, “that’s not what I meant. I called it creepy, but I didn’t think it’d get that under your still.” Regret hangs in his voice as his grabs a cigarette from his pocket and begins to light it. “I was just getting worried is all. Didn’t know if you need to get actual sleep or something.” Taking in the first breath of smoke he flicks the first few pieces of ash in Vash’s direction. “You look and act weird enough sometimes, but that’s just normal at this point.”
Vash nervously swallows as he hopes Wolfwood will continue. His legs bobs up and down in the sand while his hands now grasp one another to stop from pulling at the seams of something nearby. This was both the best and worst case scenario here, and he couldn't’ help but get wound up by it. He was just too invested in his presentation at this point. How else was he supposed to handle someone telling him how he’d really been fucking it up the whole time?
“It’s nothing to be upset about, just how it is.” He finishes with a puff of smoke. “I assumed you were aware of it. You seem to fix yourself quick enough when something’s been off for too long.”
“I am, I’d just hoped that I’d been presenting better around you all. It just gets so tedious sometimes to look– human.”
He receives an eyeroll for that comment. “Then stop trying.”
“Wh-What?” Vash barely finds himself able to sputter out.
“If it’s so difficult, stop trying to look like us.” He motions out to the still sleeping Meryl and Roberto. “It is what it is, right? You look like enough of the time that it shouldn’t be too difficult to pass as human.”
“I’m still trying most of the time, Wolfwood. It’s not as simple as flipping a switch!”
“Then maybe trust that you’re body has gotten used to this whole charade and is capable of protecting itself.” With another deep inhale of nicotine quickly leaves Vash with a face full of smoke. He doesn’t draw away from it though, too caught up in the seemingly new proposition Wolfwood was providing him.
“And if there’s a slip up?”
“Then everyone else can deal with it. You’re rarely in a place long enough for it to matter. All it will do is cause more rumors about the great ‘Vash the Stampede.’ I doubt it’ll ever really come back to bite you.” Yet another cloud of smoke follows these words, but with this particular breath Wolfwood lets the cigarette linger in his hands just long enough for Vash to snatch it.
Opening his mouth in protest he suddenly realizes that he hadn’t even seen his companion’s hand when he’d done it. And with that, he can’t help but smile a little bit. Watching with delighted frustration as the plant, who for his own part was smiling like a mischievous kitten, brought the death stick to his lips, and breathed it in.
No coughing followed the action like he thought though. Rather it all seemed to come easily to the blonde, as though there had been some point in his past where he’d actually been able to enjoy those things.
“So, you gonna take my advice then?” He coyly asks, reaching his own hand out and pulling the cigarette straight from the plant’s lips. A lingering amount of sip following it, but neither party seemed to heed it any mind as Wolfwood immediately sticks it back in his mouth.
“Maybe, we’ll see how I feel in the morning.” Vash sighs, “It’ll be something new to consider going forward.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“There are other things to be thinking about, I guess.” His eyes briefly look back out at the desert before focusing back to the cigarette. A plausible excuse really, since his eyes were finding something else far more interesting now instead.
That didn't’ need to be commented on though.
Not at the moment.
“There are always going to be other things to think about, Needle-Noggin. You just gotta decide if you’re gonna let yourself think about it or not.” It’s a somewhat weak retort really, but it gets drowned out as Wolfwood lets his leg move forward, and resting his knee against Vash’s.
A wordless sort of encouragement.
A sort of encouragement neither was quite sure how to handle yet.
So all they can do instead is pass the cigarette between one another.
Tossing sleep aside for tonight, and instead option to appreciate the wordless kiss they’d let themselves fall into for tonight.
Tomorrow would surely come with new challenges. However, for now they could both let their discussion start to sink in, and their spit run down across their lips with each pass of the stick.
And that was enough, for now.