deathsdevotee

[deathsdevotee]

Officially moving over to @deadlydevotion so I can have Legato on a proper main blog instead of a side blog, if you follow him here feel free to go pester him there! I'll be reblogging threads to that blog now to move over.

[deathsdevotee]

Reblog this if you roleplay on Discord

[deathsdevotee]

Legato listens because this is the most he's heard of his angel's past. Of course he knew what Knives and Vash were; he'd known from the very beginning when he stopped Knives from killing him along with the rest of the city. It was why he'd followed him in the first place. But there was much more he didn't know then that which he did. Knives had withheld more then he'd given and Legato had never pressed because he was a mere human and didn't deserve anything more then he was given.

"Knives was my savior, the only being to see me. He broke me and left me for dead but what you're asking.... that's betrayal. They'll kill him, won't they? Or try." The look on Legato's face is the expression of a man who's heart was broken, not a mere follower who'd been cast aside. "Either way I will lose. If Knives wipes humanity from the planet I will die and so will the one who saved me. If I assist you I betray him. There is no right answer, only pain either way." A hand comes up to cover his eyes beneath the veil of blue bangs, head bowed in anticipatory grief.

"He is your brother, he loves you more then anything else on this world. He will never so much as glance to anyone else so lo g as you draw breath. How can you keep this struggle against him day after day after century? How do you manage?"

he isn't sure how much he should - or wants - to tell legato but he is one of the very few humans who had become aware of the true nature of the twins. a strange opportunity at honesty. so vash simply shrugs and nods.

"after the great fall we avoided human contact unless absolutely necessary" an attempt on his side: if he kept knives away from humanity, he would not kill them and perhaps over time see a more peaceful way to cooperate. "we only went different ways after a particularly bad disagreement. I shot at him and he cut off my arm. as you see his punishments had always been on the more debilitating side of things" though the consequences for legato were even worse.

"we are plants. nether my brother nor I are close to divinity - I am sorry you ever believed we were." it be easier to see the twins for their true selves and their mistakes if the notion of angels and gods was put away. "and just as we are no angels you aren't my nemesis ...and right now you are not even an enemy. legato, I can offer you this: I will bring you to the community of survivors who still live on one of the ships."

"they can help you with your physical state, or at least provide a safe place. in return you can help them - we have received a signal from earth forces. when they arrive perhaps you can be part of taking a step towards a future where plants won't have to suffer to keep humanity alive - that would still be according to knives wishes."

[deathsdevotee]

"I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break."

-Marya Hornbacher, Wasted

[deathsdevotee]

Legato can't stand touch, not from him or anyone he doesn't trust. And the trust of Legato Bluesummers is a rare commodity indeed.

"80-!?" He looks up sharply, disbelief and confusion flashing across his face before settling into tired, even depressed acceptance. Of course he didn't know that detail; Legato only had ways of knowing whatever Knives himself told him and Knives had told him so very little in the end.

He hadn't known his savior at all.

"After the Fall. He never..." Legato looks away. Just another thing to be regarded as a failure. Another way he can't measure up to Vash.

"I no longer know what to take you for. My nemesis and the one standing between me and my angel, entirely a moot point now. I presumed to try to kill you and was broken and tossed aside for it. If you wanted to eliminate an enemy, now would be the time." He smiles, empty and hollow. "I can't even run. You won't get a better shot."

"sorry" vash apologizes, hands lowered back to his side. it's simply part of his nature to want to help and support someone when it looked like they needed it. even with their previous history leaving legato be seemed cruel.

the statement confuses vash for a moment, making him wonder how much the other actually knows - for example how old knives and vash actually were. "he and I traveled together for 80 years - trust me, I know my brother and his moods" but that's not something that would ease legato's pain.

vash breath hitches, a cold shiver running down his spine. "...you take me for that cruel?" as if he could ever let something like that happen. "...I think that particular hunt is over"

[deathsdevotee]

Legato visibly flinches away from reaching hands before he can control the impulse, then scowls to cover up the fear. He doesn't have a defense against Vash or anyone really, not with his injuries and his powers damaged as well. All he could do was grip his cane and watch Vash warily.

"I've lived with him longer then you have," Legato scowls. "I've been at his side for a decade while you-" He cuts himself off and grits his teeth. There's so much anger boiling under his skin, pushing with no where to go. Anger and hurt and betrayal and fear, a sour and disgusting mix churning in his gut.

"A doctor, someone to peel me open and pry me apart? No, I should think not. Why offer anything at all, I thought you were hunting me, were you not?"

"don't force yourself" he doesn't think when he already steps forward, hands raised as if he wanted to support the other. but before he can touch legato he stops - vash doubts that the other man would let him help this quickly.

the gunslinger sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. "sorry. I fear with him it's truly a mood thing. any other day he might have just been amused by what you did." or not. it's not as if his brother cared much for human lives.

"there's a town a few days from here with a doctor I trust. from there I could also arrange someone to shelter you, get you somewhere safe - a quiet place and one equipped to handle your needs."

[deathsdevotee]

Legato presses his lips together, neither confirming nor denying. Wolfwood would probably just put him out of his misery. Vash wouldn't.

He tries to stand straighter and avoid showing weakness but there's a stiffness to him and an all too visible flinch, to say nothing of his sunken, unhealthy look and lack of his characteristic jacket. Just a brown duster, totally normal. It doesn't do anything to disguise the hair though.

"Yes," he admits after a very long pause. "He left me. After Jennora. Attacking you was a sin he would not forgive."

"I'd prefer neither of you." Legato takes a small step backward, a brief flicker of nerves across his face as he turns slightly as if to hide the cane he's currently leaning on.

"You can't fix it. It's your fault I'm injured in the first place."

[deathsdevotee]

"I'd prefer neither of you." Legato takes a small step backward, a brief flicker of nerves across his face as he turns slightly as if to hide the cane he's currently leaning on.

"You can't fix it. It's your fault I'm injured in the first place."

"would you prefer wolfwood? he might be less pleasant" vash sighs and takes a step closer. "don't fuss and show me where you are hurt"

[deathsdevotee]

This was a full day of work but one that was a LOT of fun! This commission is for @deadlydevotion! They are an absolute sweetheart and my favourite feral raccoon :)

Thank you so much for entrusting me with your precious boi!!! I’m slowly accumulating Legatos 🥰

Sketches are £10 for a fullbody / Illustrations are £35 w/ background

[deathsdevotee]

staaaare

staaaaaareee

[deathsdevotee]

That's the key difference between them; where Wolfwood is a dog looking for an opportunity to sink his fangs into the masters who beat him, Legato has never known how to bare his teeth but at those his Masters point him to. He doesn't know how to do anything but submit to the whims of his owner, to roll over and show his belly and let his Masters cut into him as they please. He's never known anything different.

But there is the question. The most important one. The one he's been thinking of since he first woke up in agony.

Chapel doesn't give him a chance to answer before continuing to speak and Legato frowns slightly.

"Conrad would be careful. He might be able to fix the damage if Knives allowed it. You are attempting to reference the Eye though, aren't you?" Conrad had been the reason Legato managed to be as healthy as he had been, before. The Eye was another beast entirely and a shudder crawls down Legato's spine, makes him wince.

He'd considered giving himself to the Eye before, when he was younger and more stupid and more desperate. When Elendira began to come into her own and Legato's powers were not the best tool Knives had between the two of them. When she put him in the dirt more and more often. He'd decided against it, because they weren't his Master and thus had no right to his body.

"I'm not... going back. To the Eye, or Him. I was declared unworthy and denied even the honor of a death at His hand. My Master.... doesn't want me." There's so much agony in that statement, more pain then his body is in. He's not wanted, not needed, not useful, and he doesn't know what to do now.

"Whatta shame."

He counters sharply just before their drinks arrive. A spark of hatred passes behind his eyes - residue from when their roles were reversed and he was the one without power, a dog kicked into submission and determined get one good BITE in before vomiting up his guts.

"You gonna go back to your Master when you regain some 'a that gift?"

His question is loaded (like a gun). Chapel had never voiced his mutinous plans, but it was clear from the moment of his delivery that he loathed Knives. He was a troublemaker, prone to cause chaos at every opportunity. Maybe that was why the Independent tolerated him. Chaos fit the agenda.

"That Conrad bastard is still at Knives' beck and call. He could do you some favors." He takes three deep gulps from his frosted glass and wipes his mouth before adding, "Course, he's not liable to use anesthesia."

[deathsdevotee]

@humanitysong followed

"I truly am cursed, aren't I? To have you of all people stumble here."

[deathsdevotee]

God knows Chapel is good at questioning things. Orders, his superiors, basically anything he could find that might have an answer, whether or not he should be given one and whether or not the answer should matter to him.

There's another shifting of Legato's shoulders defensively but its slight, small. How much does he answer, how little can he get away with? He doesn't want to give away all his weakness but what options does he have? Vagueness and a hope that Chapel won't pry too hard.

"I can use some. Most of it is keeping me upright, what's left is greatly reduced." That's obvious enough from his lack of attempts to stop Chapel earlier. "It's hard, but I can." He does not demonstrate, there's no point and that would give away exactly how little he can affect the world around him. Nor does he mention his ability to sense the world around him with his threads. Either Chapel can hear and feel the slight electromagnetic pulses in the air or he can't and that's that.

"They'll return as I heal." He hopes. He prays. Its the only control he's ever had over his world after all.

Wolfwood reads the atmosphere well. Or maybe he's just apt at interrogation. He never expected Legato to volunteer information. He's happy to question. And question. And question.

"So have you completely lost your powers, or are you just too broke to use um?" He's trying to estimate the price of Legato's temper. Prodding hasn't yielded the punishment of days past, but Chapel remembers being crumpled like paper at the hands of hIs superior and is just as cautious as he is bitter about it happening.

[deathsdevotee]

While Chapel sprawls Legato sits almost primly, certainly stiffly. He's as far back against the seat as he can get for what added support he can find and his cane is leaned next to him, within immediate reach. Not as far as the Punisher but not as useful either.

Told to order for the both of them, Legato stumbles. He doesn't know anything about Chapel's tastes and what might satisfy, he doesn't know if something he chooses might be offensive to his palette. He's trying to be as small and inoffensive as possible, nonthreatening and meek and everything that might make the other man bored with him, might make him leave him alone and relatively safe. It's instinct, learned long ago and only really perpetuated in his service to Knives.

He orders stew and hopes it will be good enough.

And then he sits with his hands tucked in his lap, hair hiding his eyes, and waits. Chapel wants to know things, fine. He can be the one to ask because Legato isn't going to volunteer anything above what he absolutely has to in order to get through this conversation.

"Yes." He eases into the adjacent chair with a dry smile. One arm drapes over the back of its frame, preferring to linger near Punisher. The shrouded mockery of faith has been propped against the wall, out of the way but not out of reach.

Chapel casually crosses one leg over the other and peers up at their arriving waitress. "Two beers, sweetheart. " His eyes fall across the table though his nose remains pointed at their hostess. "And whatever my friend deems best for dinner."

He watches Legato fumble. The man's struggle has nothing to do with the menu. He seems to know it just fine, has a good idea of what will satisfy. He's just not used to making decisions for other people.

This will be their first time dining together. Chapel was never socially invested in Gung-Ho fuckery. He'd show up when his presence was imperative. He'd finished his assignments and filed his reports, but he hadn't expressed any interest in getting to know his colleague. That hasn't changed. It's just that Legato no longer qualifies as a coworker.

[deathsdevotee]

Legato's shoulders hunch more at the comment on his weight. He'd worked so hard to get his body up to a higher standard, to make up for all the abuse it had been put through for his entire childhood. He'd reached what Conrad had deemed a healthy weight and had put on muscle to boot. Now he's lost so much of that again, his powers still consuming a great deal of calories and his recovery leeching away all of that healthy weight.

He's self-conscious about it. It burns in the back of his throat.

The last thing he wants is to be more of a burden, even for Chapel. He holds himself very still, very carefully, very small. The former servant's breath shudders at the mention of his Master and he doesn't respond to the mocking. If he opens his mouth he's sure all that will emerge is a sob and he's already made it very clear how utterly weak and helpless he is in front of Chapel. He can't bear the thought of breaking down in tears as well, no matter how it burns in his throat and behind his eyes.

At the very least, Chapel doesn't carry him inside. These people have already seen him weak and useless but there's no need to make it worse. He can't afford to make it worse.

The man grits his teeth at the hand on his back. The damage was extensive and agonizing and repaired as best as his rescuer had been able. But she wasn't a surgeon, she wasn't trained. It was a miracle he survived long enough to heal this much.

"Thank you," he says quietly as he accepts the cane back, leans his weight on it. Carefully takes his steps toward the tavern doors and heads inside. The fact that he's walking at all is a miracle.

Legato takes the time to chose a table that offers slightly more privacy while affording a view of the place. It's just busy enough with people filtering in to take cover from the heat that they're noted but not marked. Legato is a known, if not familiar face and Wolfwood is so unassuming that no one bothers about them much.

"You're going to ask questions," Legato says. Its not a question.

"You're nothin' but skin and bones." Chapel comments as he regains height and turns to honor Legato's navigation.

His hold is gentle but impersonal. He carries his charge as though he's moving a box of fragile things; glass plates, or keepsakes that would have to shatter to give an opinion. He walks with the confidence of a man in charge, cool and slow... and maybe that's a blessing because it keeps the quake of Legato's repairing parts to a minimum.

'It's there, on the left.'

Legato directs softly while doing his best to keep his body from melding with that of his captor. He's thorough in his guidance and obeys Wolfwood's hands automatically, shifting the best he can to weigh less...to be an easy guest amidst the priest's arms. "Aw. So this is what it's like? Being Knives? You gonna wash my feet later? Do my laundry?"

"Here."

Chapel avoids the front of the building when they arrive. He diverts to the side and pauses in the privacy of its shade. "Alright," he says while tilting Legato's feet to meet the ground. "Here's your five steps." No man wants to be bridal carried into a tavern, especially one incapable of defending himself from the backlash if appearing soft.

Legato's cane is offered. It has been smartly snagged on the corner of Wolfwood's weapon and would have been forgotten there if his hand hadn't brushed over the cripple's spine upon letting him down. Their trespass was purely accidental; just a mishap of shifting positions. Even so, brief and light as it is, he can't help but notice bones jutting in directions they shouldn't. It's enough to make Chapel's touch recoil in search of the cane.

[deathsdevotee]

There was once a time when Legato could direct entire cities as he stalked through them, could reach out and casually turn a whole tavern's attention away from him at once, could use his power to twist whole groups into horrible and painful shapes. Now he can hardly keep himself upright while he focuses his attention on speaking with a singular Plant.

His powers might very well be in more ruin then his body right now. It's truly pathetic, how far he's fallen.

The broken mirror leans his head gratefully against Amara's shoulder, watching the Plants in their tank settle on the same level as the two.

'My body is only human,' he sighs, mind settling into the contact. 'It cannot repair such extensive damage without drastic help.' He doesn't know what the black means, not really, but her memory is context enough. She'd been dying, so very close to death, and here she was, nearly recovered. Miraculous.

But he was only human. There was only so much his body could take. Perhaps he could move himself with his threads if he rebuilt his power enough but he wasn't sure his body would ever heal properly.

'I hope one day to be able to stand tall again, but it may be merely a dream.'

Amara doesn't hesitate to hold the other, gently guiding them both to sit by the glass, tucking his echo into his chest, the witch holds him close, protectively. He looks to the Plants who'd all joined, sinking to the base of their tank to watch the two happily, small mutations splitting the beings apart from one another.

"Just focus on speaking, I've got your body. You're safe with me, Legato." hands nearly pet at hair, opting instead to rub across the man's shoulder, a soothing action as he settles in for a long session.

The leader of the Plants pushed back on his mind tenderly, a gentle way of telling him not to rush nor to feel guilt or shame for needing to heal. She moves, an arm raising up to reveal a smear of black on her skin, offering a memory where it had once consumed half of her body.

'We all recover in our own special time.' Sentience, far beyond that of the collective that Legato was familiar with, though her voice seems to echo with many, it holds an awareness.

[deathsdevotee]

Yes, actually, that is exactly what he'd expected Chapel to do. Leave him here to wile away the day in the sun until he could handle a walk again. Perhaps a bit foolish to expect; when someone like Chapel has a scent he's following it won't be so easily abandoned, but he'd hoped--

Legato might be back to awareness but that doesn't make him quite all there. It's like he blinks and Chapel is there, in front of him, crouching and caging him in with his body. If Legato wants to stand he'll have to make Chapel move and he may as well try to move a mountain by hand. He shrinks back as much as he can when he's already leaned back into the bench's backrest, hazy gold eyes suddenly wide again.

It's not a choice though. It's not him being given an option besides how soon to put himself in the arms of the man that had terrorized him enough to drive him from his body. He's lost all the illusion of choice he'd gained before when Knives broke his body and left him. A slump of his shoulders shows he knows he's not being given any other option, that he's accepted this is his fate.

It's awkward and painful to slide off the bench and into Chapel's arms. Legato hardly weighs anything, weight dropped significantly since his 'death' and slow recovery. It's not as easy to maintain the healthy weight he'd painstakingly achieved since his liberation when he can hardly move and his at best apathy for life hadn't helped. He'd be lucky weighing half as much as the Punisher right now.

"That way," he directs quietly. Meek. Defeated.

"And so you just expect me to leave you here to- what? Shamble home at three am when you're feeling more mobile?" He accuses casually, while bending go sling Punisher's strap over his shoulder. His face is pointed down as he speaks. "Ain't gonna happen."

Chapel shrugs his cross into place as he straightens. Once he's upright, his left foot turns toward Legato in time with his face, as though they're connected by an internal string. He's a smooth mover. It's hard to catch just how he ends up facing his hindered hostage, hard to tell how many strides it takes for him to close in.

He lowers over his knees in front of Legato's bench, like a man about to propose. His arms open, and their invitation is just shy of intimate. "I'll carry you." There is no room for debate - no 'may I' or 'please' to be had. Chapel is giving any order. The outcome will not be comfortable, but at least he's kind enough to wait. At least Legato can climb into the other's arms at his own pace instead of having his bones rattled by a thoughtless scoop.