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Sleeping in on Christmas morning at an orphanage is a fool’s errand, because young kids tend to wake up early and even if that wasn’t their natural inclination, with presents to be unwrapped, there was never any chance of keeping them all down for very long. This year in particular is special, because the beginning of the week marked the arrival of “Santa Claus”, AKA one Vash the Stampede in a fuzzy red tunic with a massive false beard, and none of the children under Melanie’s care are quite credulous to believe that Santa Claus really exists at this point, even the littles…
But Vash had come with presents nonetheless and in that regard Christmas will always stay the same. Livio just barely manages to get up early enough to be the majority of children, relying on the ol’ assassin’s feet to carry him down the kitchen so he can get a headstart on breakfast. He still isn’t done by the time the church is filled with voices, laughter and ambient chatter as the kids compare their loot, but it’s as much extra time as he’s ever able to buy himself. Jasmine is out to help him soon enough, and then Miss Melanie herself, and then it’s a real party in the small kitchen with all three of them trying to maneuver around each other… They shout in unison when Vash makes as if to enter just for the sake of helping. He is far too tall and far too broad to be anything other than a nuisance in this room, and thus relegated to caretaking duty. At least he doesn’t seem bothered by the rebuttal, merely giving a cheery wave and tripping on his own feet on the way out.
Boxing day is a little calmer. Nine o’clock rolls around and the majority of kids are still asleep, giving Melanie time to work on breakfast alone (as is her preference) and for Jasmine sleep in a little for once. Livio again relies on his silent step to make his way out of the building overall, creeping through the front courtyard to the back, where the beginnings of their vegetable garden have sprouted.
This isn’t a task that Livio necessarily likes doing alone, but if he waits any longer, the suns are going to be high in the sky and it’s going to be hot while he’s trying to do the weeding. Not to mention, he’d feel bad waking anyone for help, be it Jasmine who never gets the chance to rest a little or one of the nuns who have a thousand other things to be concerned about… The older kids are used to helping out, as Nicholas had been, but Livio doesn’t want to lean on them too heavily. It’s important that they, too, get the opportunity to be children, as much as that isn’t always available living on a planet like this…
Things are better now. Nicer. Livio reminds himself of this as he crouches down in the dew-damp soil, fingers running through the ground for weeds. The climate of No Man’s Land remains largely predictable with warm days and breezy nights. Some years they see snow in the city of December, but oftentimes they don’t. Livio had hoped for a bit of a bite in the air, something to make doing this more bearable, but instead he can already feel the warmth starting to build on the back of his neck. Picking his own clothes is easily the hardest part of being an “independent person” with “agency”. Something thin so he won’t overheat but thick enough to avoid getting pricked, something to keep the sun off his skin without warming him to the bone… At least it isn’t cold. Livio hasn’t learned yet how to deal with cold.
He’s expecting to go at this uninterrupted for the next hour or so at least, without any windows overlooking the backyard from either the nursery or the bedrooms shared by the older kids, but he hears boots treading on sand from behind him before even half an hour has passed. The shifting of the grains is so quiet it’s near imperceptible, but there’s no tricking Livio’s ear. His vision swims a moment as Razlo is alerted, but Razlo quickly returns to what he’d been doing before (fussing over the weeds) as they both reason out who exactly is moving behind him.
Though Razlo has never liked Vash, he doesn’t see him as a threat, either. It’s the opposite if anything; Vash staunchly refuses to fight no matter how often Razlo begs him for a duel. It’s probably… fair, actually, even if Livio himself is a little bit bummed about it. Vash doesn’t have a whole lot of “fighting” left in him, if Livio understands correctly… and also, Razlo’s idea of a friendly spar is a little bloodier than most people’s, Livio has learned.
“Mornin’,” Livio calls, because Vash hasn’t spoken yet. This man was a friend of Nicholas, and thus Livio trusts him implicitly, but he won’t claim to understand him. He spends a lot of time tiptoeing around the unspoken, chewing on what he’d like to say as if he’s waiting for his conversational partner to understand what he’s not putting into the world. Or maybe it’s less that and more that Vash doesn’t know what he wants other people to know about him. It’s not an issue Livio has ever dealt with. His sense of self was weak in the first place, and then fragmented, with the newfound sense of piece that he and Razlo have settled into together being tenuous at best. Everything he’s learned about himself he’s done in the company of somebody else, at least two other people. So he’s kind of an open book, in that regard.
Still, if Vash has his reasons for not giving a greeting, Livio isn’t going to look too much into it. It’s polite to say hello to someone when you see them for the first time, so he does.
“Good morning,” Vash echoes, without much delay, so maybe Livio was just overthinking it. He hears the crinkle of leather and a soft thud, glances over his shoulder to see Vash’s travel bag resting in the sand. “I couldn’t find you to say goodbye.”
“Heading out already?” Livio rocks back onto his heels. He supposes it’s been a week since Vash last arrived, so the day of his departure had to have been approaching rapidly. He never stays in one place for very long, Vash the Stampede. Or that’s what they say about him, but Livio thinks he remembers Vash talking about a little girl and her grandmother, and those two reporter/insurance ladies who are always following him around… Those are probably the ones he settles down with, if he ever settles at all. Nonetheless, he’s never stayed at the orphanage for longer than a week, so Livio isn’t sure he should be surprised. “Nice of ya to think of me.”
“I’m very nice,” Vash agrees, arms stretching over his head. He yawns, but his hair’s done up and he’s fully dressed in his armour and jacket, so he must’ve been awake for a little while, perhaps as long as Livio has. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the gardening, though. I know that’s hard work.”
It is, and not especially pleasant. Livio still prefers it to the way that he was living before, but if he had to rank his favourite chores, weeding probably wouldn’t top the list. He does it happily though, knowing that it isn’t fun, because the fact that he’s getting ahead of it means Melanie and Jasmine won’t have to get their hands dirty… and there is something satisfying about the way the soil looks when all the unneeded plants have been removed. Livio could get philosophical about that, why humans deem some plants helpful and welcomed and others not, but it’s the day after Christmas and he hasn’t had breakfast yet and he’s got a lot of his own reasons for wanting to see this garden flourish. Nothing tastes better than a tomato picked fresh off the vine. So for that reason, he’ll remove all the weeds, even the spiky ones.
Deciding that Vash’s departure nonetheless warrants a break, Livio straightens and dusts the soil off his hands. Then he turns to offer the man a proper goodbye, though he hesitates when their eyes meet. They’re not huggy people, with the combined violence staining both of their hands—and Livio isn’t sure, but he thinks that Vash wouldn’t be entirely comfortable touching him for so long, and so completely, even if he was after something like that.
(Not that Vash ever wears his feelings on his face, but Livio can tell, anyway. He spent his childhood reading the faces of those around him, searching for the rejection, the dislike, before it could come out and play across their features. Vash cares for him and forgives him; Livio knows that that is not a lie. But he’s a reminder of something miserable, just as Vash the Stampede is to Livio, so they don’t… you know. They don’t hug.)
Vash does set a gloved hand on his shoulder, though… and he smiles too.
“Thanks again for hosting me. Tell Melanie I’m grateful. I told her myself, but she waved me off, so I figure she could stand to hear it again from her favourite kid.”
Livio hums up and down, somewhat bashfully. Miss Melanie had bawled—not just cried but bawled when he returned for real, taking him into her arms and squeezing until he could scarcely breathe for it. Even that didn’t feel like enough. The years apart had stung and whatever ‘self’ Livio had had, he buried beneath hours of training and a dedication to a cause he had no true opinions on. It was Razlo’s cause, Razlo’s devotion, but Razlo was his closest friend and protector, and Livio was happy to follow in his tracks. Melanie was only ever his advocate though, someone who believed him when the act of believing in him was near-delusion… and she remembered him all the years apart. She recognised him when he came back with his head held low, just as she recognised and absolved Nicholas on his deathbed.
To call Livio her “favourite” is… well, it’s embarrassing, and it shouldn’t be true. But Livio loves her so dearly that he’s sure he’d combust for it if such a thing was possible, and he won’t argue with Vash. Not when he’s so privileged to be living a life like this. His face does feel awfully warm though.
“I’ll tell her,” Livio promises, rubbing at his neck. “Can’t promise she’ll listen though… She can be awful stubborn.”
“All the best people are,” Vash reflects, clapping Livio’s arm. “I’m catching a sandsteamer in two hours. Before that, can I help you get the rest of these weeds? Or were you staking your pride on doing it alone?”
Livio huffs a laugh and looks away. He doesn’t personally have much of an opinion on it, but what comes out of his mouth when he opens it is “Don’t even think about it” either way. Someone was staking their pride on it, it seems, even if Livio wasn’t.
Vash laughs, loud. “Alright, alright. I’ll just sit here and bother you both, in that case.” He drops down to sit on his bag, legs splayed out, arms propped in the sand behind him. Livio feels his brow furrow, a combination of his own feelings as well as Razlo’s, but if Vash wants to do that, then he supposes he won’t argue in this regard either. He’s definitely hitting the guy with a hell of a side eye as he turns back to his task, though.
…As least he didn’t wake Jasmine. She really needs the time off, and Razlo might have kicked his ass if he’d done so. Instead, Razlo focuses his attention back on the weeds, and Livio tries not to think too much about how hot it’s getting out here. So hot. Very hot. Unbearably hot even, which is unfair, because it’s the day after Christmas and Christmas is supposed to be cold.
“...You sure you don’t want me t—” Vash begins.
“I said don’t think about it!” Livio complains, prompting another laugh from behind him. He ducks his head so the legendary outlaw at his back doesn’t see the grin that spreads across his face as a result. They may not be the hugging type, either of them… but this is far from the worst way they could be spending the holiday, Livio will admit.