[ vash is caught staring at a reflection when wolfwood appears behind him over his shoulder, intersected by the bright green of his arm; birthmark reflected under the opposite eye, and it's a pale greenblue gaze that flicks upwards to fix upon the other's figure.
he doesn't bother turning around. for what feels like days, weeks, months he's been trapped in here going around in circles, and every mirror-surface he sees - wolfwood on his knees, with broken glass vials shattered before him dripping luminous green like blood from his hands. meryl and roberto, dissolving into red petals. rem's body floating in water red like her flowers, but it's not rem, it's tesla's body floating, and as vash watches she opens her eyes - her eye - rimmed with crusted blood staring, always staring. wolfwood's figure takes one step then another, closer and closer, and vash doesn't turn around - wills himself to not to, even when he knows that there isn't anything there. this isn't real.
what will it be this time? a rope around his neck, a gun to the back of his head, a knife between his ribs.
when the hand comes to rest against him, a solid, real pressure - with all the weight of fingers, thumb, palm - vash nearly jumps out of his skin the selfsame right alongside wolfwood. the echo of the collision reverberates through the space they're in and vash stares, open mouthed and wide eyed, at the other. ]
cw science experiment, body horror, mild hallucinations ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
he doesn't bother turning around. for what feels like days, weeks, months he's been trapped in here going around in circles, and every mirror-surface he sees - wolfwood on his knees, with broken glass vials shattered before him dripping luminous green like blood from his hands. meryl and roberto, dissolving into red petals. rem's body floating in water red like her flowers, but it's not rem, it's tesla's body floating, and as vash watches she opens her eyes - her eye - rimmed with crusted blood staring, always staring. wolfwood's figure takes one step then another, closer and closer, and vash doesn't turn around - wills himself to not to, even when he knows that there isn't anything there. this isn't real.
what will it be this time? a rope around his neck, a gun to the back of his head, a knife between his ribs.
when the hand comes to rest against him, a solid, real pressure - with all the weight of fingers, thumb, palm - vash nearly jumps out of his skin the selfsame right alongside wolfwood. the echo of the collision reverberates through the space they're in and vash stares, open mouthed and wide eyed, at the other. ]
.... Wolfwood?