#[separation arc; orangetintedglasses]

[forgivenpunishment]

crash and burn (and don't look back)

⩥ @orangetintedglasses || plot continuation

Wolfwood hadn't expected a red carpet welcoming him to the facility or anything, but he'd be lying if he told himself that the Eye of Michael's preparations—or lack thereof—weren't a bruise to his ego. Considering how obvious it is that this facility in the middle of nowhere with its own extensive power grid is the one holding Vash, it's surprising that there aren't nearly enough defenses outside to hinder the undertaker as he storms forward with his goal in the forefront of his mind.

Puppets—of all things—have been his main enemy thus far. Like… from the creepy puppet guy. Wolfwood doesn't know much about Knives's knife drawer, but he's seen the cartoonish puppeteer and found himself unimpressed. Truly, this is a man they intend on throwing in for fodder and not one intended to do any real physical damage to anyone without a gun, because this is pathetic.

Punisher tears through vehicles and weapons and reinforced doors without mercy, the man behind the gun unrelenting in his warpath. Those damned human-like puppets crumple to pieces after one concussive blow or a few stray bullets. Wolfwood finds himself yet to take a hit, even as the scenery shifts from that of an industrial yard to one of a laboratory crafted in true Eye of Michael fashion.

Here is where he begins to encounter real people—well, as real as anyone from the Eye gets—and it's time for him to get serious.

He'd been prepared to slay anyone who got in his way today, but even now his fingers hesitate before pulling Punisher's trigger. What's wrong with him? These people are so far gone—and!!—they have Vash captive. So why does it sting when thoughts of Vash wincing with each meaty slap of bullet on flesh flood his mind? Why does the idea of watching Vash meander through blood-stained halls and seeing the way he mourns people who wanted to hurt him turn his stomach so bad…?

Fine. Fine. Vash wins this time. He doesn't have the time to deal with this petty morality, doesn't have time to weigh individual sins before issuing his own personal judgment day—

Thankfully, faces don't take kindly to the broad end of the Punisher. It's probably for the best that he saves ammo for whoever awaits him in Vash's containment—because surely there will be someone. Knives, Legato, maybe even that brat with the nails. Maybe they finally succeeded in giving her a body that Wolfwood can take her seriously in rather than that of a child, but then again that'd require Conrad successfully 'creating' Independents that don't wither and die within a year or whatever, so maybe it's for the best that he never gets to see that day.

Despite the mental preparation, by the time Wolfwood reaches the internal laboratory rooms and wards, the place feels… empty. Something is… definitely wrong here—there's some plan, he can tell, but when yet another door hisses open to a stark white room and Plants peacefully floating in their bulbs, he can't tell anymore what the game is. Is Vash being buried deep in this facility part of the plan? Maybe he'll take too long, and that's when the extra security shows up and overwhelms him…

Hydraulics hiss behind him as the doors close, and the only sound Wolfwood can hear outside of his rushing pulse is the sound of the soles of his shoes tapping softly against the sanitary white tile. Looking around him, he does see papers and clipboards—far less advanced than anything Luida or Brad use on their ship—scattered, like whoever was working here left fast. The undertaker picks up a paper at his feet and holds it in front of himself.

It's… a chart. Vash's vitals, medicines administered… it's incomplete, but… perhaps it's worth keeping around in case Luida needs to know. He tucks it into an interior pocket and continues to walk to the end of the room. The Plants lining the sides of it seem to be too exhausted to interact with him—probably with good reason if Vash's burst of energy tripped them up. Something about them feels… wrong… but Wolfwood can't put a finger on it, not even as he reaches the proudest bulb in the room��one big enough to hold Vash the Stampede in captivity.

He looks so… small… like this.

Wolfwood analyzes the panel and holographic table controlling the bulb's access, but… he's not particularly good at accessing these kinds of things. One wrong move could hurt Vash, but… he doesn't have a lot of time…

His hand hovers over a palm reader, which flashes red beneath his skin. No access this time. Shit.

He's not coming out all this way, getting himself caught by the Eye again, for Vash to stay sealed up in that shitty bulb sleeping. The tips of his fingers rap against the hollow surface of the locked holo-keyboard. If people left fast enough, there's a chance someone left their ID behind, right?

Leaving Vash's side for a moment, Wolfwood briskly shifts two bulbs over and finds a skewed pair of glasses on top of a physical ID. Jackpot.

The Plant right next to him feels strange to be around, like… maybe this is how it feels being next to a dying Plant. There's a deep sorrow in the atmosphere, and Wolfwood feels a heaviness from tears unshed. He can't help but approach the closed Dependent and cock his head at the glass sadly, inquisitively.

"Don't worry, your brother's gonna be fine… I'll make sure, alright?" Wolfwood apprehensively places a palm upon the glass, furrowing his brow with equal parts determination and confusion. Not looking to linger, especially considering any of these girls could drag his consciousness away at the worst moment, he reluctantly pulls away and returns to Vash's body with the ID card in hand. It works, and with several menus and warning screens eagerly clicked through, Wolfwood finally reaches a blinking warning screen and an ultimate confirmation dialog.

'Warning: Auto-release unavailable. Manual retrieval mandatory.'

Yes. Okay.

'Preemptive retrieval of body may result in heavy fluid intake. Be sure to have a plan in place to prevent drowning the subject.'

Can Vash drown? Shit. Uh…

'Set countdown for 1:00?'

Suddenly uncertain, Wolfwood bites his lip and flips his attention from the computer screen to the sleeping Vash in the bulb. With a heaving sigh, he flings his suit jacket off and shoves his sleeves up to his biceps. It seems that taking a little dip is going to be inevitable… these bulbs have a small fish-bowl like entrance that he can access once the cables detach from Vash's body and stop conducting the fluid with electricity that'd likely stop Wolfwood's heart… assuming he's not so much of a Plant at this point that he could survive the slightly electric liquid that feeds and houses Dependent Plants.

With a deep breath, he begins the countdown, and makes his way to the back of the bulb. The ladder to get into the tank is the most intimidating thing he's faced all day, he's pretty sure. All of the jitters he'd been feeling before leaving rock him all at once—will Vash be happy to see him? Will he be okay? Will he… even want to escape? Okay, that's out of the question—Wolfwood is not about to allow Knives to have his hands on Vash, no matter what's at stake.

There's always another way. Vash makes it look so easy.

The timer clicks off in time with the tubes and wires unsealing, and Wolfwood doesn't hesitate to sling himself into the bulb and push himself towards Vash's limp body. The first touch is electric—a spark to reignite recognition, hopefully.

Mentally, he calls out to his stubborn… ex-boyfriend? Boyfriend? His… Vash.

'Vash? Can you hear me? You have to get out of this bulb, but don't freak out, it's just me here… I'm here...'

[forgivenpunishment]

It's surprising, even to Wolfwood, that Luida managed to somehow maintain a normal conversation with him for so long—but perhaps knowing Vash is alive and wants help has raised hopes enough for normal conversation to happen in the first place. It's, at the very least, grounded Wolfwood in this precious day before his mission begins. Getting pissed off at Vash's... for lack of better terms... parents, is probably not a worthwhile usage of his time, and yet it is how he's spent a majority of his time aboard the ship doing.

Yeah, even if... by some miracle of God, he and Vash end up on decent terms... he should probably spend an indefinite amount of time away from here. He didn't even ask about what happened to Brad...

Tension between them, between he and Luida particularly, melts... thankfully. They both, for the time being, have the same goal. Finally.

Wolfwood sets all of the foodstuffs to the side, placing the containers neatly onto the tray with the utensils inside and any dirty napkins wadded up into one, easily disposable mass. He's quiet as she tells him of the plan soon to come to fruition.

"A day..." Wolfwood repeats thoughtfully, sad that it's no longer 'two hours' but content that they have a time and a destination. If he hadn't dipped into the Plant consciousness, he'd be on a wild thoma chase for... perhaps several more weeks—at least. "Yeah that should give me enough time. Gotta... well, I still gotta check Angelina out. Now I've gotta really make sure all my weapons are good to go as well."

Vash forgive him for the carnage he's about to cause. He's willing to follow the blond's rules—but there's a limit. Kidnapping his partner is one of the hard lines in the dry cement, that's for damn sure. Wolfwood doesn't necessarily plan to kill—even if he wants to—but he sure as hell isn't going to go back and make sure everyone's okay once his job's done.

And if they corner him, surround him, or get his back against the wall, well...

Just another reason for Vash to hate him when they're reunited, he supposes.

No one in the Eye deserves to survive this. No one who works for Knives, or Conrad, or Legato... no one. Vash could never change his mind—especially if he shows up. If he—Wolfwood's mentor—shows his face, the mission's on the rocks. Desperation and instinct will preside in that instance... and with desperation comes death. That's just how it has to be.

When a man's loved ones are at stake... it's a rant he's gone over in his mind time and time again—something he's always meant to talk about with Vash and argue over, but never managed to find the time to. Maybe he never will... or maybe Vash will have a front row seat to see exactly what he means.

The way the undertaker went a little more quiet— mumbling his responses and focusing more on the food in front of him than anything else —told both Luida and their guest all they really needed to know… though probably Luida moreso than their guest, as he left them to their own devices fairly quickly.

That meant that there would be a bit of silence between them for a little while, filled only by the occasional shuffle of containers and clinking of cutlery or dishware, but the matron didn't mind much. Single-minded function or not, it was good to see Wolfwood eating; that he had an appetite at all after being unconscious for so long was a good sign that his body was functioning correctly… at least, on a surface level. If they really wanted to know for certain, that would require a few rudimentary tests, and Luida really didn't want to put the young man through that when it was…

… well. When it was fairly clear that his biology wasn't normal.

So, the matron kept her eyes down— opting to check on various systems and networks that she had access to on her tablet until she heard the clink of silverware being set on the tray and Wolfwood speaking again. Quiet, but clearer this time.

When she looked up, she noticed that the poor thing looked pretty thoroughly distracted.

"Glad to hear it." she said gently, smiling as she reached out for him and laid her hand upon the bed. Not on him, not touching, but close by, as a gesture of 'I'm here, you aren't alone' while still trying to respect any boundaries he had… and partially to keep from startling him out of wherever it was he'd wandered off to in his own head.

Luida canted her head somewhat curiously.

"Is there anything else you'd like…? Maybe we could try to walk around a little, if you're feeling up to it, but if you'd prefer to keep resting for a little while, that's alright, too."

Admittedly they should try and get him moving at some point in the next few hours, since—

"… we do still have about a days' worth of travel. At that point, it'd be more beneficial for us to let you off. You'd get there much faster on your vehicle than you would traveling with us, since the storm cell we're traveling through is shifting course for a few days."

[forgivenpunishment]

The bouncy, peppy nature of the nutritionist is familiar, and strikes Wolfwood in an odd sort of way... like a church bell that's somehow off-key. It twists some knot that still has residence in his chest cavity, making him miss Vash even more than he was five seconds ago. Hell, even the red gelatin is making his heart do flips—'Vash would absolutely eat that first,' his brain automatically answers, as though it even matters.

Maybe if he closes his eyes hard enough, he can imagine how it'd taste on Vash's lips as well. Cherry—probably—it'd soak his already flushed lips with sugary-sweet juice, and...

God, someone strike him down with a bolt of lightning or a bullet, Wolfwood doesn't care which at this point.

He mumbles something incomprehensible, yet affirmative, then gently picks up the tray and scoops a spoonful of the jiggling ruby-red translucent solid-not-solid and brings it to his lips. The flavor is as bright and sweet as he imagined it, and it does shoot a pang of wishful yearning right through his heart.

Tastes like Vash.

Well, it doesn't taste anything like Vash, but it reminds him of Vash—

Vash and his stupid red lips and pink cheeks and sharp teeth and cute tongue and his bright hair that reminds him of the the dawn of the parent sun, or maybe it reminds him of just-sweet-enough lemonade, or iced tea with lemon at sunset...

"Fuck," the undertaker mumbles to himself, stubbornly slurping spoonfuls of the gelatin and filling the spoon occasionally with a bite of fruit alongside them. "Get a hold of yourself, Nicholas."

Whatever the hell they put in the food does re-energize him, at least. He can continue to put up with the bullshit of the day, or whatever. Soon he can go find Vash and bring him Home.

Before he realizes it, Wolfwood's downed all of the food he's been given—like he entered a trance state and focused solely on his own empty belly for once. He doesn't leave much room for conversation outside of his own idle, self-derogatory muttering

Vash... he gets to see Vash soon. Within days, likely. It's too soon—it's not soon enough—he doesn't know.

"S'good. Thanks," Wolfwood is eventually able to eke out, still clearly swatting away Cupids and ghosts. "Feeling better."

It took nearly everything Luida had left in her not to smile at the undertaker, trying so, so hard just to not repeat the word, but there was undoubtedly a fond light in her eyes as she listened and watched. It was difficult not to: he really was so similar to Vash in so many ways that drawing comparisons was basically inevitable. 'We couldn't, shouldn't, he can't, he shouldn't'… where had she heard talk like this before…?

From Vash himself. She remembers a conversation they had in hushed tones— one where Vash had confided in her, back when the undertaker refused to come out of the room they were sharing—

… it really was just as heart-wrenching, too, hearing someone like Wolfwood deny something so intrinsic to life as love was, and claiming that Vash shouldn't love him. And maybe, on a fundamental level, sure. There were valid enough reasons for that— the man in front of her (not-so-willingly) had been taked with bringing Vash straight into the maw of his brother's awful machinations: their meeting had not been fate or happenstance, or anything particularly cute or romantic… but…

"You say that like it'd stop him." Luida said, with all the sad reverence that she would have for the blond himself, had he been the one sitting in front of her right now.

As if on cue, though, the door to the room slid open with soft, quick woosh! as another Sinner— a cheery-looking man with mousy brown hair —entered with the tray of food that had been requested. He looked a little surprised, and— after taking in the mood in the air of the room —asked, "bad time…?"

"No, no… we were just finishing up." she looked from Wolfwood to the man, then back to Wolfwood again with a small smile. She'd pressed this topic enough for now— "sorry if that soured the mood at all… but eating should probably take precedence anyway, now that there's food here for you."

"Some pretty good stuff, too— but take it slow to start! And try to start with this, even if it doesn't look like the most appetizing thing," the man added, setting the tray down near the bed-bound undertaker. He pointed to a jiggling red mass of jello, nested between a cup of fruit, a muffin, and some stew portioned and packaged in one of those resealable containers, "to see how your stomach handles the concept."

Luida chuffed lightly, shaking her head. "Aaron is one of the nutritionists on board. He helps synthesize the food so there's plenty of nutritional benefit to most of it~."

"Mmhmm! And I'm… rambling, aren't I? Sorry! Enjoy your food!"

[forgivenpunishment]

The fight in Wolfwood's body seems to leave the more he treads into details he wish he had the human memory to forget. As much as he wants to fight and fight and deflect every word Luida speaks, he finds the fire dying right where it sparks in his chest.

Loves, though... no, that's... what they were both avoiding. That's irrelevant.

"Wh—no, he..." Wolfwood stammers, trying so desperately to shoo away the stormclouds that grow with any term of endearment, "It wasn't—we... he wasn't like that. We couldn't. We—he—can't. Shouldn't. So."

The concept of Vash running because he loves too much—it's unfortunately been at the forefront of Wolfwood's thoughts, no matter how much he tries to cast it to the side. He knows that that must be the reason Vash left, but adamantly refuses to believe such a ridiculous reason. There's... something more logical, surely. And—and even if love is involved—if—it's not... it can't be anything more than just... platonic. It's a strong platonic bond. That's... that's all.

"We both know that's out of the cards," Wolfwood finally shakes himself free of the demons trying to lure him back to dreamier times, "If that were the case, he would've... left a long time ago. No one can put up with that kind of feeling tugging at your ankles for so long... nope, no one."

... Even though he's been fighting it off for full years now.

"M'not scared of anything Vash can throw at me," the undertaker eventually finds himself mumbling. "Not even something stupid like... saying that. I'd just... tell him... 'no' or something..."

And yet, every crack and bullet hole in his heart tells him that he could never turn Vash away like that. He loves Vash, and it's a problem, but it's his problem. Not Vash's—which is why he's just going to... rescue him, get out, and stay out.

… as Wolfwood went into further detail, Luida remained quiet, only nodding along on occasion to prove she was listening as she processed what she was being told. She briefly wondered, had he not told her that Knives had broken Vash during his time in JuLai, if she would even fully believe that he was capable of such things… but the undertaker had the scars to prove it.

Scars that she would… glance at, then forcibly remove her gaze, not wanting to stare for too long. But they were there, left by whatever it was Vash had become. All of that information was a lot to take in at once, but Luida did so to the best of her ability; this wasn't about what she thought of that part of the situation, anyway.

"I suppose that wasn't an incorrect assumption to make, given the situation we're in right now…" she conceded. Yes, unfortunately, this outcome would be easily foreseeable to someone that knew Vash well enough to predict it. However, that wasn't all she had to say on the matter, gnawing on the inside of her cheek before continuing, "but prolonging a conversation like that for so long— until it was strong enough to make you 'freak out' at such a crucial moment —is probably part of why it had such a profoundly negative effect on you. Things like that fester easily when you refuse to acknowledge them."

… but that was only part of the problem, wasn't it?

Her hands fell to rest on her lap, where she wrung them together tightly. Wolfwood had responded negatively to talk like this in the past, but… maybe right now, while he was calm…

"… but hearing this, and knowing Vash on the level that I do… I don't think it's fair to either of you to look at it through such a simplified lens. 'Vash promised not to leave but then he did anyway'… you were both scared of something when it happened. People tend to make big, rash decisions that aren't necessarily the best for anyone when fear and guilt come into play— and Vash tends to make them for other people… often without their input, when he believes his presence is detrimental someone he loves."

[forgivenpunishment]

Trauma? Wolfwood's whole life is trauma—what's the honest to God difference between being held captive by the Eye as a child and being a display piece for not-Vash in JuLai? Why would one burden him with horrific flashbacks and not the other? Fuck, Wolfwood hates psychology. It's such a fake branch of 'science.'

"Well... he didn't know what happened to him... or me... in JuLai," Wolfwood continues, scratching the side of his head with a crumpled, guilty expression. "After I reacted like that during the shootout, I was forced to tell him what he—what... Knives's idea of Vash... did to me."

Fuck, he should consider the possibility of Vash's body being inhabited by that... monster... thing... again, shouldn't he? To that end, it'd be best for Luida to know exactly what the not-Vash is capable of.

"Knives twisted Vash into... some kind of remade form of himself before JuLai was destroyed. He wouldn't have given a fuck what I did with my time if it were up to him—he got his brother back or whatever, and that's all he needed—but... Vash demanded that I stayed right where I was."

He rubs his forearm awkwardly, inside the bend where one of the circular pin scars show clearly—especially with how pale he's gotten from being inside so much. The exit scar is just around his bicep, just as perfectly circular. Wolfwood looks to the side, down and away, before speaking again.

"The... remade... Vash," he utters, absolutely hating the fact that he has to refer to that creature as Vash at all, "Kept me pinned to a metallic board in his quarters. I healed around the pins, they fed me nutrients so I stayed alive. I... couldn't really sleep like that, so I could only watch as that thing made Vash do whatever his brother asked of him."

"I got let out a couple of times, but it only led to Vash chasing me down until I left with him. He'd do... whatever it took." Wolfwood sighs, sifting through the rotten memories. "Last thing I knew, the real Vash was setting me outside the city limits, he confronted his brother, and then... boom. JuLai disappeared. Shortie and I got a lot of the residents out of the city but... you know, can't save everyone."

Again, the sheets rustle as the undertaker shifts uncomfortably under Luida's scrutiny.

"So... I didn't tell Vash any of that until I was forced to. I knew that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he knew what that remade form of him did to me, even if I know it's not him. It was a ticking timebomb."

… um… why was that a completely different story than the one she'd heard originally?

Fighting back a surprised lift of her eyebrows, Luida dug through her memories to recall just what they'd been told. And what Wolfwood had told them— well, Brad —back when they had first picked him up was that he and Vash had fought… and if she dug a little deeper, Luida vaguely recalled it being 'Vash was angry at Wolfwood for lying, then he broke his promise and left'… though she had gotten her information second-hand. She hadn't been present at the time, too busy trying to get in contact with their mutual missing link… and after that, tensions had been bad enough that it felt like no one could really sit down and talk to each other reasonably...

… but Luida also remembered Brad claiming that he had tried to explain that Vash just did this— that once he got something in his head, he would throw away every bit of good or comfort or even love that he had because suddenly he didn't deserve any of it —but all that had done was make the undertaker snap back, convinced that they weren't respecting their decision to break up. That they cared more about Vash's feelings and were eager to push them back together when they were 'over'.

… granted, Brad was equally terrible at this… knowing him, he probably said something more aggressive and stupid than he meant to…

"That… doesn't sound like much of a fight." she said after a moment. She was going to need to chose her words carefully, now. "It sounds more like… you experienced something that triggered a trauma response, and that that trauma is, unfortunately, connected to Vash."

Technicalities aside, that meant that, of course, Vash would've gotten scared of what he could do (or cause) in Wolfwood's presence. Would've blamed himself immediately. Would've run and hid because if he were the cause— again, technicalities aside; guilt and fear did funny things to the brain —of something that made Wolfwood make a near-fatal mistake that he wouldn't normally…

Luida had to hold in a sigh. Of course… that made so much more sense than them fighting. It hadn't been a fight, but she wasn't going to press like that— insistence had just made the young man build up walls before.

"It stands to reason that if you didn't care much about the dangers of being around Vash, that Vash would've mirrored the sentiment when it came to you, as well." she tilted her head ever so slightly to one side, looking at her charge with a curious expression— "Was what the two of you… had… really fragile enough that it couldn't have withstood one fight, if that's all that it had been? Or do you think there's a possibility that there was more to it than that?"

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood closes his eyes and takes a breath, remembering his final night with Vash. He thought that they settled things then—he wasn't going to leave, neither of them were. He wonders what went through Vash's mind to change it... or perhaps it'd be better to ask himself when he started pretending Vash was telling the truth.

"Mm. It was after we had to run out of a town when things got violent," Wolfwood reluctantly begins to share his tale, struggling to remember certain details. "We managed to hide out in the power plant, but the place was barely more than a shack. The residents were shooting through the door, trying to get at us dead or alive. Something that... uh..."

The foggy part of the story only gets foggier as he tries to remember why he had that horrible flashback which set him off.

"...Vash said or did... something—I think he... grabbed me? He saved me before I got shot but it did something that reminded me of when they had me prisoner in JuLai. I freaked out and I wasn't thinking straight... basically pressed myself right against the door that they were shooting through. He managed to coax me away before anything happened but..."

He rubs the back of his head, as though imagining the bullet striking him... and the results of such a shot.

"If I stayed there any longer, well, I'm pretty good at recovering but I'm not sure if I can regrow a head." Wolfwood shakes his head again, frustrated this time. "It was stupid—a stupid mistake, and Vash knows I don't make those. It was a one-time thing—and I told him that I'm capable of keeping up with him... he knows I am. He promised he wouldn't leave, but the next day I woke up and all that was left of him was a note. I could hardly believe it... after all we'd been through, you know..."

Despite how uncomfortable he feels sharing this with Luida, there is a kind of... relief... that comes with the story. It's as if he's—well—it's as if he's finally setting down his cross. Getting a load off his chest.

Finally, Wolfwood shrugs.

"I guess there is some truth to it though, just not in the way that he thinks. It's not the danger that Vash brings to the table that I need to watch out for, it's him that needs to watch out for the danger I bring. The people that have him now... I worked for them. I have no doubts that they're going to try to get me back dead or alive, and I'm probably easier to track than Vash is. If it takes a fight to break up... what we have, er, had... then maybe it's just for the best."

"Shortstack… ah, you mean the girl who boarded with you the first time?"

That was the only person who came to mind along with that nickname, anyway… Meryl. A lovely girl, and another of Vash's friends who Luida felt that she owed an apology to: this ship was supposed to be safe, and she'd been abducted, along with the older man who'd been with them…

She wondered, dimly, how the two of them were doing.

But, listening to the logistics of their strategy, the two of them having stayed south made the most sense, as staying completely off the radar of the larger cities (in places with no access to outside communication, no less) meant there was significantly less chance of running into more… organized forces that were interested in Vash's capture. The military police would've been focused on bigger areas with more Dependents, and not run down settlements and towns with much less 'draw' to the kind of criminal that they assumed Vash was…

They'd already thrown the area to the wolves, anyway, when the power and communication had been disrupted, so it was smart of the boys to stay within that area. Luida could commend that.

… but… that meant whoever had taken Vash had likely taken him much closer to the denser population with that in mind, too…

The blow to the mattress startled the Sinner out of her thoughts, and she frowned. Sympathy tugged at the corners of her mouth, deepening the lines on her face, "you aren't an idiot, Nicholas… you said the two of you had a fight, didn't you?"

[forgivenpunishment]

"Faith..." Wolfwood repeats thoughtfully, then shakes his head, "No, Needle-noggin and I were completely off the grid in the south. Considerin' his post-JuLai bounty's issued by November, we figured it best to stay as far away from there as possible. I'd bet anything Shortstack is on top of Faith's development like worms to honey though. She knows a scoop when she hears one."

This reeks of the Eye. If she is on the case, Wolfwood makes a note to formally turn her right around back to her headquarters for this one. She may have survived JuLai, but the old Druncle's Derringers have nothing against any remnants of the Eye of Michael that remain. He remembers hearing Legato referring to members as Guns... himself included in the conversation—but there were at least thirteen other numbers. He may have escaped his fate (hopefully... doubtfully...), but none of the others will have any kind of mercy for the Stampede—if they're alive. They're Guns, Knives's Knives, an extension of the organization... they're killers, through and through. Moreover, they'd probably kill themselves sooner than they'd break bread with Vash... especially if Legato was the one to give them any kind of orders.

... And Vash is right in the middle of where the group is likely reorganizing.

Wolfwood sits in his darkened thoughts for a lot longer than a standard pause, hand to his chin. This is going to be harder than he'd hoped it would be—and he already thought it'd be pretty damn hard.

Suddenly, he brings his hand down hard on the mattress below, slapping it in frustration.

"Dammit, who knows what they've done to him in the time they've had him," he grumbles through his teeth, only thinking of the worst, "I should never have let him out of my sight. Ugh, I'm an idiot!"

The thought that if they'd been together there would've been a likelihood of getting captured together passes through his mind... but they would've been able to fight back-to-back like they always have... nothing stands up against them like that, right?

"Of course. I'll ask someone to bring some over for you."

Bandage applied and instrument discarded, Luida discarded her gloves and washed her hands a second time, then moved to return to her seat next to the bed— but not before grabbing the tablet that she'd set down at… some point, in the brief flurry of thought and action she'd experienced when Wolfwood had first woken up. Using that, she would send out a request for food: 'one of everything' from the cafeteria, just for good measure.

Which meant now was probably the best time to fill him in; the matron offered him a nod, and a small but confident smile.

"Yes. We're close." she confirmed. "It's been about a week since you lost consciousness, but thanks to your efforts, we've been on a direct route for the last three days… supposedly, to the 'developing metropolis' of Faith. Perhaps you've heard of it before, but we could barely find any information..."

She said developing with a bit of a scrutinizing edge to it, because this had been the first time she'd ever really heard of this city. Not that they necessarily refreshed the records hourly for any news on budding new locations, but in this instance, their records had come up almost barren. Research had landed them an article or two from the Bernadelli News Agency about its formation and dedication to 'bolstering the spirits of the people'— distinctly after the destruction of JuLai, they'd noted —but other than that, there wasn't much else that was known about it.

Not that important right now, though; she would let Wolfwood come to his own conclusions as she kept talking. Chances were that they were just out of touch, anyway— she continued— "the same day you communed with the Plants, things over there went completely haywire. Massive surges of power that completely overwhelmed the timeline of Bode plots we'd put together, all coinciding with your connection… and localized to this developing city?"

Luida let that question hang and her expression finish it off. There was no was that had been a coincidence.

"You connected with Vash that day, or came close enough to it that it provoked a reaction from the Dependents around him. There's nowhere else he could be."

[forgivenpunishment]

With a dull hum of affirmation, Wolfwood gives Luida his arm again after setting the water back on the nightstand. Normally these IV things set off his fight or flight response something fierce, but the strange calm overwhelming him seems to take priority here. She removes the cannula with practiced ease, and Wolfwood is especially grateful—like a lion who just had a thorn taken out of its paw.

"So... we're close, then?" Wolfwood inquires, almost shyly, "All that's left is for me to go kick down their doors and rescue the damsel?"

He props the pillows up and shifts backwards on the bed until he's sitting up against them. It does seem like his mood has been 'repaired' by spending some time outside of his own body... though, only time will tell if it repaired anything or damaged Wolfwood further.

Something... tells Wolfwood that that won't be the last close call he'll have. Far from it—but if possible he'd prefer to leave the Plant communication to Vash and the Plant engineers from now on. His heart does a deep swoop as he remembers that rescuing Vash will... probably be the last time he sees him. Wolfwood's mouth purses into a fine line, now serious.

"I should be back to normal in an hour or so. Maybe a little longer, maybe after I get some solid food in me."

That explanation tracked with what she understood of the ordeal that was connecting to the Dependent Plants. She nodded, "sounds like there still might be a level of disconnect between your body and your consciousness… if that tells us anything."

Her eyes settled on the cannula as it jiggled around with the motion of his arm, and the matron made a face; stomach churning at the sight, Luida couldn't help but wonder if that haziness was making it so he didn't really feel the needle in there. Much as she would have preferred to wait, the Sinner rose from her seat and went to fetch a pair of gloves (and wash her hands, of course) and some gauze and bandages. Enhanced healing or not, she'd rather not leave it open—

"Here, extend your arm for me… let's get that out for you, okay? Then I can fill you in on what you missed, catch you up to speed... I think you'll like what we discovered."

Her voice had taken on a slightly more gentle, much more motherly tone now; the barely-concealed upset that had made it tremble before having finally settled, now that she wasn't trying to keep that mask of the composed leader from slipping. She had genuinely thought that they'd lost the young undertaker to the collective consciousness— which meant both him and Vash would've essentially been lost to them, stuck in places that the Sinners could never hope to reach on their own —and now that he was awake (and himself) it felt like she could finally let herself settle, at least a little—

[forgivenpunishment]

"I don't really remember anything from after I communed with the Plants," Wolfwood shrugs, sitting up and taking the glass of water in two hands. He brings it to his lips and takes a long sip, until his dry mouth is quenched satisfyingly. "I got a vague feeling of where Vash is, or was, and then I was close to him... but then it all goes dark."

Slowly, he rolls his head from shoulder to shoulder, testing how his body responds to the movement. Thankfully, without sustaining any physical injuries, it seems that his body is only sore from a lack of activity.

"It feels like déjà vu," Wolfwood settles on, holding his left hand up and moving his fingers. The IV plug jiggles slightly at the motion. "I feel... hazy. Like I'm five seconds behind where I actually am. It's like I was slingshotted back into my body and I'm still vibrating from the landing. I think I have goosebumps."

The undertaker uses uncertain language to refer to himself and how he feels, as if 'feeling' is something new altogether. It truly is a weird sensation, and unfortunately it is something familiar—even if it's been a while since last he felt it.

… this was… quite the far cry from how Wolfwood had been acting prior to the incident with the Plants. Even his less… prickly behavior usually never breached further than 'cordial' with all of them. Now, after being asleep for so long, he was… smiling at her. Using respectful terms. And while, admittedly, the behavioral change did spark concern in her— was he okay? Did the trauma of the connection do this? —Luida was pretty quick to realize that what she was catastrophizing was a smile, and decided to shove that feeling aside as much as she could.

Don't assume the worst yet…

"Maybe…" she said with a light laugh; a somewhat nervous sound, like her response alone wasn't enough. She did frown at the plug, though, but she could take that out in a little bits. Once her hands were steady enough— "I haven't gotten much of a chancer to slow down with Brad out of commission… but that can wait."

… she should… probably elaborate on that more, but that was just one of many things he would need to be filled in on, and that could come in time. First, she was going to fill a cup with water to bring over to him; dragging a chair close to the side of the bed without equipment cluttering it so she could sit close by, keeping the water within his reach for when he wanted it.

"How are you feeling? You seem… fully recovered, at least, if not a little calmer than I expected you to be…"

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood furrows his brow in confusion, wondering what in God's name has left the stoic scientist in such a mess. He did what he had to do, and she should recognize that. Hell, they've probably been running tests on him while he's been unconscious and he'll never know about it.

Slowly, still squinting, the undertaker blinks open his clear eyes and weakly turns in the direction he heard her voice coming from. She detaches the IV (unfortunately, the plug will have to stay for now) and he easily acquiesces his arm to her. Luida looks... ragged. The stress ages her, yeah, but it's rare that Wolfwood has ever seen her look genuinely worn down.

"Thanks, water does sound nice," Wolfwood does his best to turn his crooked smile into something sweet despite how exhausted he is, "You look like hell, ma'am. Maybe you're the one who needs some rest here."

He exhales slowly, savoring the action of breathing.

"Take your time. I ain't goin' anywhere yet."

Spending so much time at Wolfwood's bedside had Luida (and other members of the medical staff that would come in to help monitor and keep their 'patient' comfortable) trained fairly well against jumping at every little noise that the young undertaker made. It had been about a week by this point, and so far, Wolfwood had groaned and moaned and even managed to move in a way that had prompted everyone who had been there at the time to stop everything and try to get a reaction out of him, only for nothing to come of it.

So when Luida heard her name croaked out like that, initially, she tried not to hold her breath for anything more than that.

Then, after a few more long, dragging moments… more words would come. A question, even— a clear, concise question from someone who had been basically comatose for days —that genuinely brought tears to her eyes. Oh thank goodness…

"Ah— we—" right, the question— and she'd tried to answer, but with her being beside herself with concern for both Wolfwood and their missing mutual link, her emotions had her in a bit of a choke hold. The matron cleared her throat, and tried again, "y-yes, we found— we found something. Not an exact pinpoint location, but there was— there was some wild Plant activity that coincided with…"

. . . o-okay, no, she couldn't get through that all business-like that soon, as though the young man had just woken up from a normal nap. Luida let her thought trail off as she brought a hand up to rub her face; she needed a second to process… and he could probably use detaching from most of the equipment.

"I'm sorry, i-it's been nonstop, we've been… l-let me remove the IV for you, you shouldn't need it now. I can get you some water, too, once you feel like you can sit up enough…"

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood wakes from his dream in several different segments that feel hours apart. At first, the world turns a dusty black, the only sounds he can hear being the slow and unsure beeps of a heart monitor. It's... his heart on the heart monitor—it must be.

The dream returns, and once again he finds himself curled against Vash as though he's a child or a pet; pale fingers continue to stroke through curls of unkempt, raven-black hair like he's something precious. He knows this is a dream—and usually he can wake himself up from the good dreams just fine—but this dream is... sticky. It's a flytrap of a dream, and his wings have been stuck to the glue for some time now. Is it glue or is it honey? The world is just too much of a mirage around him for him to be sure.

More time passes. The slow, deliberate ticking of a clock is added into the dream. Wolfwood pries an eye open to spy the source—a worn clock sitting far, far away on a wooden chest of drawers across the room. He closes his eyes again and drifts away.

This happens a few times—until his body begins to recover and his mind regains faculty after faculty.

There are moments of murmurs and hushed whispers, times where he can hear his own groaning, even one brief window where he was able to flex his own hand (with great difficulty).

"I have to leave now, Vash," Wolfwood can hear himself whisper in his dream, much to the disagreement of the man beside him, "I'll be there soon to get you out of... wherever you are. We can talk about... whatever... or not... your choice... but it's for the best that I go my own way after you're safe. I can't have them finding you again, not because you're around me so much. I'm sorry."

The dream finally fades. It departs with that same unceremonious hum that Vash is so good at, like he doesn't believe Wolfwood for even a second. About which part... he's not certain.

The beeping is steadier now at least—stronger. The undertaker flexes his palm with a low groan, stopping uncomfortably when he feels the shift of an IV in his forearm. He blinks once, quickly squeezing his eyes shut again at the sterile, harsh lights of the ship, groaning again... louder this time.

Wolfwood is silent for a long time, reluctant to say the name of the one he knows is likely closest by despite knowing that he needs to get her attention if he wants to leave in a timely manner.

"Luida...?" he chokes out, testing his voice after however long he's been out of commission. His eyes are still closed as he acclimates himself to the brightness of the room (and Luida even left it dimmer for him...) from behind the comfort of his eyelids. "Did you... figure out the location... did it work...?"

Wolfwood collided with Brad's middle with all the driving force of a sand steamer barreling over the oceans at full speed, and he felt (and unfortunately heard) at least four of his ribs snap with the impact; the sound of all the air being punched out of his lungs was drowned out by the tail end of that horrid, inhuman, haunted-sounding scream.

Well, so much for his plan of being the one to carry the kid out of there… that was the thought the elderly Sinner would cling to in an attempt to distract himself from the pain, as more crew filed into the hangar. So much commotion in such a short amount of time… it hadn't been this 'lively' on the Ship in months…

Luida, for all her knowledge and wisdom that came with being as old as she was… had no idea what to make of what had just happened. The Plants themselves seemed just as horrified for whatever it was that Wolfwood had suffered in that terrible moment, and where the room had just been filled with excitement and electricity before, there was now a much, much heavier feeling that even the idle ship-goers could feel weighing down on them.

Maybe they were aware of the limits that they'd inadvertently pushed, too.

Eventually, though, the commotion ceased, and Brad and Wolfwood were moved out of the hangar and into beds to rest and recover from the entire ordeal— Brad going to medical in Wolfwood's place, where the young undertaker would be taken back to the room he'd been staying in… though they would bring in some of their less… invasive equipment so they could at least try to keep an eye on some of his vitals. Not an easy job, with Wolfwood being so averse to doctors and most-anything medically-inclined, but they'd never dealt with anything like this before: they needed to be able to monitor him just in case things somehow managed to take a turn for the worse as he slept…

… but…

Thanks to his efforts, at the very least… now they had something of a lead; an errant thread that they could follow that they hadn't known about before. And while Wolfwood slept, they would follow it. They would follow it and follow it and follow it until they found whatever it was that was waiting for them on the other end. Until they had something to show for the undertaker's efforts; until they could find something to report back to him whenever he opened his eyes again and found himself (once more) tucked into bed, recovering from another ordeal… with the idle chatter of the Ship's crew and the soft, somewhat-steady beat of a heart monitor keeping him company…

[forgivenpunishment]

"Vash is—"

Wolfwood tries again to communicate, but he can feel his lungs and heart working overtime, running themselves ragged. He feels as though he's having a heart attack, or something, something that he's felt before while on the Doctor's table undergoing tests. In fact, this exact situation may have been what that particular test was for.

"V'sh—needs us—I can find him—ghhk—"

I'll find him, I'll find him, I'll find him, I'll find him—

"Tore me away from—" Wolfwood's words come out like broken radio static, as though he'd been flipping through frequencies, but this time the sentence is interrupted by a painful scream. A high piercing shriek skewers his brain like a long needle, and he thrusts backward again with finality. Too fierce for any mere man to handle, he bucks out of Brad's grasp unwillingly, accidentally throwing more power into it than he would if he were struggling. If Brad is somehow uninjured from this, it'll be some kind of miracle.

With a glaring flash of pure white light, his scream finally and abruptly comes to an end... and so does his ability to stay conscious. Delirium settles in, and he suddenly feels the weight of the Plant consciousness—he's not really there, and yet, it feels as though he's stuck...

"—can find him... will find him—"

Outside, the markings peter out along with his energy. After several shallow, sobbing breaths, Wolfwood caves into the light-headedness and passes out. No dreams await him on the other side of consciousness, and neither does Vash. He's alone once again with the silent darkness of his mind as he drifts down the flooded river of his own thoughts, arriving deep, deep into the realm of sleep.

When the undertaker began to thrash on top of them, the pile of bodies dispersed as carefully as they could manage, with some of them staying close enough to provide support if needed— while the majority weren't sure, most assumed that right now wasn't exactly the time for Wolfwood to be lying completely flat on his back. Aside from Luida, though, none of them could really make that call for sure… and she was a little occupied watching the movement of his bright, still-glowing eyes, and making sure that he wasn't about to swallow his tongue as he spasmed and writhed—

This… had been too much. She shouldn't have expected this of him, as though one successful connection meant anything— meant that Wolfwood could and should act as some sort of go-between. Even if there was a lead to be found— and it sounded like there might've been something of note to glean from this incident, but they could figure that out later —he shouldn't have had to have been hurt to get it.

"Goddammit, brat— hey! Get someone from medical down here, pronto!" Brad barked at the group of people backing off and away, who were unsure whether or not Wolfwood was having some sort of conniption or seizure that they'd need to clear room for. As he pulled the young undertaker more firmly into his lap, elevating him, a few of them nodded and more than one would take off in the direction of one of the exits. Ultimately, though, there was… still somewhat of a crowd.

He said… that she knows where Vash is? Agh, his grip is insane, I-I think my arm might be fractured… How is any of this possible? H-how is— how is he—?

"Tch! How ain't important right now— just be grateful that he did it at all!" the elder Sinner snapped before turning his attention back to— "Luida, he's—"

"He's not fully with us yet." she said simply, a curt response that cut off her counterpart while her attention was still focused on Wolfwood; watching his eyes flicker and flit in all directions while she brushed his fringe out of his face with one hand, and cupped the back of his head in an attempt to keep it steady with the other. His hair stuck in place fairly easily, drenched as it was. "Once he regains enough of his faculties, we can move him back to his room and assess things from there. For now, all we can do is wait while we try to help him through this…"

She had to stay calm. They didn't know how long he'd keep thrashing—

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood, against his better judgment, falls right into the siren's call surrounding him, sprinting to the source of the warmth and recognition. He can't feel the way the material realm begins to peel away from him, like he's releasing a tether he hadn't realized he was clinging onto. That sensation, that feeling overwhelming him—it's Vash!

"I'm not leaving you, I'm here, I'm here Vash! I have you, just come with me, I'll get you out of there—"

And then—

Pain.

Like a rubber band snapping, suddenly Wolfwood finds himself back in the hangar, lying on a pile of arms and torsos and tangled limbs. Disoriented and still glowing moonlight silver, he stops breathing. His skin hurts—stings, as though he's been burnt all over—and by the time he can blink, his thoughts are so scrambled that he can hardly put words together.

In fact—

He... can't—only choked, panted breaths come from his lips and his eyes flit as though they're stuck in a restless sleep. His back arches in pain, his fists clutch limbs tightly, his teeth gnash... the return to his body did not happen without negative side-effects this time.

"C—ch," Wolfwood attempts to enunciate anything, just trying to get a thought across, "V—Va-sh... lo-loca—aytion—NNGH—"

The undertaker spasms, sweat streaming from his temples, even off of his cold, clammy skin. He begins to feel feverish with all of the people surrounding him.

"Sh-shee... aghgh—she knows—" he gasps, shivering and cursing beneath his breath, "Ff-find him? Is—ngh—is it... enough?"

The deeper parts of the collective Plant consciousness were a vast and seemingly endless place. Despite its reputation, though, even just a brief glimpse of the higher plane allowed anyone that could manage it to see its true nature; a bright, warm place, filled with… what read like life. A little different, maybe, more alien than what a human being would be used to (different than a massive crowd of people, or the thrum of a city) but energetic and all-encompassing and alive. And curious, too— in the midst of all of that life, ebbing and flowing and curling around the new consciousness within it, there was a flicker of a distinct, familiar feeling...

… recognition.

Recognition that slowly turned into confusion, then alarm… and swiftly sharpened into a sense of urgency. That urgency was followed suite by hope. Hope and desperation in equal parts. It was a flurry of feelings showering him, in that same flavor of warmth that he'd been presented with initially… but now, it'd almost feel like it was reaching out towards him, for him. And then…

Nothing.

The sensations would halt rather abruptly as Wolfwood's body was once again yanked from the bulb— though this time, it wasn't just Luida with her arms wrapped around his middle. This time, it was a lot more difficult to actually move the undertaker; Brad and a few others— some of the engineers, and people who generally still trusted Wolfwood for one reason or another —had to get their hands on him too, just to be able to separate him from the bulb and the Plant inside. When he did finally come free, the momentum causes them all to collapse into a bit of a heap, cushioning the undertaker's fall in the process.

"Nicholas?!" again, Luida's voice was first. Quickly followed by—

"Kid? Kid, hey, can you hear me? Hey—!!"

[forgivenpunishment]

"Vash!"

Wolfwood feels himself fall into the Plant consciousness, this time more fluid than the last. It feels like dunking his head into a warm bath and rising with crystal clear vision. Tears sting the lower apex of his eyelid as he bubbles with the Plants' excitement. All of his bravado falls to the wayside, unable to remain stable with all of the worry and anxiety and—yes—love in his heart for the idiot he's chosen to care about.

"I'm here, I'm coming for you—I'll find you—!"

He tries to yell as loudly as he can—maybe, if he can just send a message, just one message, if they can connect for even just a second—

"You can hold on! Where—"

The undertaker finds himself in a whirl of color and sights and sounds—all overwhelming. This is... what every Plant sees, in some way, he figures. If he's not careful, he'll drown in it. Concerned voices of, what he assumes are, Plant engineers echo through the stream, lingering as he tries to connect to the Plants that are closer to Vash. Just... any idea of a location, and he'll go! He'll find him!

"Where are you?! Vash?! Needle-noggin?!"

v A s h ! v A s h !

They echoed the name happily, as though in agreement— yes, it was Vash. And it absolutely was Vash that they were feeling and not his older, much… colder counterpart. Knives was cold, and Vash was warm; he was much, much warmer in both his general presence, and how it felt whenever he tapped into the collective of his own accord. That was how they knew to discern the twins, how they knew that what they'd felt was Vash as they searched and probed and scanned…

And they could share that feeling with Wolfwood, too.

What followed after a moment— after the Plant closed her eyes again —was a burst of veritable warmth; a heat that walked the border of uncomfortable and unbearable like a tightrope, surging beneath the skin. But it wasn't a slow, steady feeling… it was fast, intense, and rushed through the body like an electric shock from the top of the head to the soles of the feet.

Still… it was warm. Just a little too hot, but that was what they'd felt. That was Vash, and they knew that it was. Vash was—

A w A K e ! A L i v e ! P 0 w e R F U L , P 0 w e R F U L !

—somewhere. He was somewhere, and he was using his power in some way. Their kin closer to him would know more— they would be resonating with him, singing with him, they would know where he was…!

[forgivenpunishment]

Like before, the bright stark white crown of faux-Plant lines manifest across Wolfwood's brow and underneath the deep bags beneath his eyes. His eyes glaze over while talking to the Sister, and he reaches a state that is not quite within Her space, and not quite within the real world.

"Brother... you mean Vash, right?" Wolfwood chirps, perhaps over-eager. There are... technically two brothers (that he knows of) after all, and he'd prefer it to be the one with a heart. "Where? Is he okay? Is he in danger? Did he get out? Please—anything, anything you can tell me..."

He clutches his eyes shut and tries to focus on just the Sisters, just their thoughts and feelings even as his heart jackrabbits with the pulse of the crowd. Wolfwood doesn't care who sees him like this anymore—he just... needs to find Vash. Vash needs to know how he feels. Even if they never see each other again after, he needs to know—

The undertaker shoving his way through the bustling crowd while Brad was still trying to corral them out and away definitely turned some heads— and earned a few glares and hissed comments from others —but Brad just shoved them harder. He hated the stupid accusatory bullshit-vision that some of them had made up about the kid, but there wasn't much he could do about it now… and definitely not when he was barreling through them all with his big fuck-off cross—

He'd just do the best he could; Luida was right behind him, anyway, so at least one of them could be fully present for whatever was about to happen.

The singing Plant's eyes slowly opened as Wolfwood's forehead met the glass, and while her expression didn't change too much, there was what looked like an attempt at a fond smile as her mouth closed and the singing stopped, the corners twitching up ever so faintly. Good! Good, he'd heard them, that was good—

B e L 0 V e D . . . !

— and just like before, she was happy to see him. Of course she was, all of them were always, always happy to see him… but now they had a reason! And that was very exciting— that excitement and happiness had been what had prompted a song instead of that sad, pointed feeling from before that had gotten his attention, though it had come with the drawback of getting everyone else's attention, too.

No matter! They had a reason for joy, for eagerness: they'd been helpful!

B R 0 T H e r . . . ! f e L t . . . !

[forgivenpunishment]

Good news... yeah, good news would be a location... or... or something... If Wolfwood has a location, he can rush the facility Vash is stuck in, scorched earth the place, and get out of there within an hour. The idea of being so close to finding his lost ex-partner has rejuvenated him, allowing him to move past whatever thorn in his ass he had with Brad. For now, anyway.

When they arrive in the hangar, it feels... electric.

Every Plant is awake and on edge, every human reflecting much of the same emotion. As much as Wolfwood would prefer to wait for everyone to leave the area before communing with the singing sister, he's not sure how much time they're working with. It... it could be Vash, reaching through her somehow—they're all connected, or whatever, so...

Wolfwood pushes his way to the noisy Plant, covering his ears as he shoves himself between gossiping scientists and Sinners that give him side-eye. He's not really in the mood for pleasantries, and these people hate him anyway, so what's the point in asking politely for them to move? Better to let them see who they want to see, it's less complicated than trying to be the bigger person.

With a couple quick hops, he finally makes it to the singing plant and places a nervous hand on the glass bulb. His other arm slings the Punisher beside him, setting it upright before it topples over.

"Hey—hey, girl, we just talked!" He calmly coos to the Plant, as though soothing a crying baby, "What could've changed within an hour, eh? Can't a guy have a coffee break without drama?"

Trying to cut the world away so he can focus on just the sister and himself, Wolfwood takes a deep breath.

"Okay, okay... talk to me..." He sighs, slowly pressing his other palm and forehead to the glass and shutting his eyes, "Please tell me you found something... Please tell me he's okay..."

Minor achievement or not, it was impressive to witness firsthand— as was the flair of life or levity that the small triumph brought back to the undertaker. The smirk was good to see; it was probably the least dour she'd seen him in the months leading up to this, and it made hope spring up in her chest.

"It really has… let's hope for good news, then, shall we?"

Which… was probably a bit of a long shot, given their circumstances, but optimism never hurt in small doses… it'd be fine to have for the short walk back to the wing of the ship that housed their Plants, at very least!

And what they would come back to was… quite the sight to behold.

All of the Dependents were awake and active. Every single one of them— there wasn't a single bulb amongst the dozens of dozens of glass bubble rows as the entities within gathered at the edges of their tanks. All of them seemed to be trying to look in the same direction, towards a more center-focused point of the room… right around where the Plant that Wolfwood had spoken to specifically was. That one was the focal point: floating at the very front of her tank and singing with her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, her arms spread out at her sides… she looked serene. Angelic. And all of the others were looking at her…

Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones. The commotion had drawn quite a crowd of onlookers— engineers, security, crew and civilians… anyone and everyone who had caught wind of the alert must've wandered down to see; a fact that startled Luida greatly as they entered.

It… was good that the Plants might've wanted to talk, but Wolfwood— Wolfwood shouldn't have to do it in front of a crowd this large—

Someone else within the crowd had a similar thought. Brad, who turned and saw the two of them come in, stopped what he was doing mid-conversation with another member of the crew— and after a moment of analysis, he quickly moved to make a scene, raising his voice and arms both above the din of the gathering crowd.

"Alright, alright, everyone's curiosity been sated? Good! Now get out—" someone tried to protest (likely the Plant engineers themselves) but the man wouldn't give them much thought, jerking his head in their direction with a disinterested hiss, "yeah, even you, eggheads— everyone needs to clear out and give the girls some room to breathe. We can't assess what's going on until they all calm down and no one here is helping by standing around and gawking at 'em, now move—!"