[ his eyes fall close and dante takes a deep breath in, steeling himself. no matter how many ways he thinks about it, this isn't going to go smoothly. not with the way wolfwood was so ready to burn himself up when vash was asleep, not with the reliance he has on the vials. he can understand it, the sort of recklessness that comes with the knowledge it doesn't matter what happens you'll just heal. he understands the adrenaline that comes from it, fighting and taking blow after blow and none of it actually mattering.
dante used to be like that when he was younger, used to throw himself into dangerous situations because his demonic blood would just heal him back up. he's still like it to this day, though maybe to a lesser extent. not that he can say if wolfwood is the same, but maybe somewhere in the mess that is nicholas d. wolfwood there is a similar thread.
regardless vash is right, the sooner they find wolfwood and do this the better. dante nods, wiping away more of the others tears before pulling away. the hands that rested on either side of vash's face slide down his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms. only once he reaches vash's hands do they stop, intertwining their hands together tightly. ]
Pretty sure he's out back smoking up a storm. [ dante tugs at vash's hand briefly before stepping towards the front of the cottage. ] Maybe once it's all said and done we can go have a nap or something, the three of us. Neither of us have slept the last three days.
Wolfwood's--predictable, but not completely; Dante has a good thread when he mentions the back of the house, but Wolfwood's ventured a little further just to keep everyone on their toes, standing at the edge of the river to smoke instead.
there's something soothing about the water, these days. it might be the... thing that he turns into, but sometimes it's nice to just slip his clothes and slip into his skin and hang out at the bottom of the river for a while, that terrifying specter of drowning replaced with a comforting pressure that can't hurt him because he can breathe down there, now. the world goes muted and muffled, rippling in what he presumes are his ears, and he can just exist with bright light dappled overheard and the gently push of the current, floating as if he's dreaming, getting good thinking done where there's no other noise and commotion to bother him.
he's sorely tempted to do it now, despite the cold, but it is also balls ass cold, and while the Vash situation is more or less resolved, it's not fully handled. there's still people to host and a Plant to check on and a lot of work on Wolfwood's shoulders. it feels right to have a lot on his shoulders, even if it isn't comfortable--even if it's as heavy as ever.
he's where the problems go, after all.
little does he know, he's the literal problem as Vash and Dante come crunching on by, flicking his ashes and blowing out smoke as he continues to think for a moment, a black figure in the white and cold of the winter air, standing on the edge of the river and waiting for the reckoning. ]
Smoking up a storm, huh. He must have been stressed. I kind of know how he feels. [ Given he hadn't had the five minutes to sit and contemplate losing wolfwood before he was just. Gone. Hopefully, with Dante's help, he wouldn't have to contemplate it ever again.
He squeezes the hand that's in his own--the warmth of Dante's skin always a few degrees higher than his own. It was a comforting feeling, and he'll cling to it as they brace to go out in the cold--out to where Wolfwood is idling near the river. It's unsurprising to see him there--Water had been important to wolfwood, right? He remembers that much. Even if it's been years since he's technically seen the cottage and its comforts, the frozen-over garden and trees, the icy half-stone, half-sand beach of the riverside.
Wolfwood stuck out like a sore thumb, and as he and Dante make their way over to the man, Vash... tries to think of something casual to say. Something playful to open a line with him before dropping what will, inevitably be a bomb.
...The words dry up in his throat, and even as he and Dante approach--to stand next to the man. He still quietly looks at Dante with a silent plea.
Something to break the silence--he can figure out where to go from there after. ]
[ they had all been pretty stressed with barely a moment to actually stop and breathe. even now, with vash up and walking around, it doesn't feel like they have any time to stop. this is where they should be relaxing, even celebrating vash's return to them healthy and whole, yet there is a stormcloud hanging heavily over their heads. a cloud filled to the brim with vash's fear of losing wolfwood to the vials all over again. a fear that bleeds so easily through their connected hands and settles deep into dante's marrow.
he's not far from where dante thought he would be, sticking out like a sore thumb against the white that litters the cottage. with each step they take closer dante's stomach starts to knot with dread, as if what should be a happier reunion of the three of them is destined to turn as bitter and cold as the weather around them. he pushes it aside, of course, tries to swallow it down with the same fear he can feel leeching through the warmth of vash's hand in his own.
it'll be fine. this whole thing? talking to wolfwood about the vials? it'll turn out fine in the end. it has too.
it is the sound of snow crunching underfoot that heralds their arrival before dante breaks the silence with a simple; ] Hey Nick, look who I found wandering around.
[ he can hear the crunching--there's been a lot of crunching as people have come and gone in the process of paying their dues and coming to see after Vash, so it's not something that has Wolfwood's head snapping up to see. he's tired. he hasn't slept, there's been a dozen things to try and fifteen different heartwrenching things to deal with at any given time, so it's just been... a lot.
he takes another inhale off his cigarette, and only lifts his head when his name breaks the air on Dante's lips, turning with his hands tucked in his pockets, even if he doesn't really feel the cold. ]
Should be someone you put back in bed, all things considered. Grandpa's not allowed to be off bedrest yet, Uncle Scruffy.
[ still, he snuffs his cigarette with a quick pinch, tucking it into a coat pocket out of habit as he fully turns to face the two of them, stepping away from the water. ]
[ he appreciates you, dante. he really, truly, truly does. He isn't at all sure how to start this--part of him had just. Wanted to grab wolfwood and steal his vials before the other knew what was happening, but.
he knows that'd end in wrestling and arguments and...
it's probably better to TALK him out of carrying around so many--if any at all. Even if he's really... in the mood to just take them and break them over the snow. ]
I'm fine, I'm fine. I don't really have any wounds, I'm just tired. I'll be fine.
You know how he is, couldn't get him back into bed even if I tried.
[ that is a lie. a big fat lie. he could easily wrestle vash back into bed if he really wanted to, but they all know how weak dante is to the looks vash gives him when he wants to do something he is denied. what can he say? he is a real sucker for the man, for both of them, and they both know it.
he squeezes vash's hand a little, he thinks about slipping his hand free from the plant's but that thought gets tossed aside the moment vash starts losing steam. he can only imagine how hard it is for the other to talk about, even more so to physically ask wolfwood to do this for him instead of taking the more underhanded approach. dante exhales, easy going smile dropping from his face, and focuses on wolfwood. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
dante used to be like that when he was younger, used to throw himself into dangerous situations because his demonic blood would just heal him back up. he's still like it to this day, though maybe to a lesser extent. not that he can say if wolfwood is the same, but maybe somewhere in the mess that is nicholas d. wolfwood there is a similar thread.
regardless vash is right, the sooner they find wolfwood and do this the better. dante nods, wiping away more of the others tears before pulling away. the hands that rested on either side of vash's face slide down his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms. only once he reaches vash's hands do they stop, intertwining their hands together tightly. ]
Pretty sure he's out back smoking up a storm. [ dante tugs at vash's hand briefly before stepping towards the front of the cottage. ] Maybe once it's all said and done we can go have a nap or something, the three of us. Neither of us have slept the last three days.
no subject
Wolfwood's--predictable, but not completely; Dante has a good thread when he mentions the back of the house, but Wolfwood's ventured a little further just to keep everyone on their toes, standing at the edge of the river to smoke instead.
there's something soothing about the water, these days. it might be the... thing that he turns into, but sometimes it's nice to just slip his clothes and slip into his skin and hang out at the bottom of the river for a while, that terrifying specter of drowning replaced with a comforting pressure that can't hurt him because he can breathe down there, now. the world goes muted and muffled, rippling in what he presumes are his ears, and he can just exist with bright light dappled overheard and the gently push of the current, floating as if he's dreaming, getting good thinking done where there's no other noise and commotion to bother him.
he's sorely tempted to do it now, despite the cold, but it is also balls ass cold, and while the Vash situation is more or less resolved, it's not fully handled. there's still people to host and a Plant to check on and a lot of work on Wolfwood's shoulders. it feels right to have a lot on his shoulders, even if it isn't comfortable--even if it's as heavy as ever.
he's where the problems go, after all.
little does he know, he's the literal problem as Vash and Dante come crunching on by, flicking his ashes and blowing out smoke as he continues to think for a moment, a black figure in the white and cold of the winter air, standing on the edge of the river and waiting for the reckoning. ]
no subject
He squeezes the hand that's in his own--the warmth of Dante's skin always a few degrees higher than his own. It was a comforting feeling, and he'll cling to it as they brace to go out in the cold--out to where Wolfwood is idling near the river. It's unsurprising to see him there--Water had been important to wolfwood, right? He remembers that much. Even if it's been years since he's technically seen the cottage and its comforts, the frozen-over garden and trees, the icy half-stone, half-sand beach of the riverside.
Wolfwood stuck out like a sore thumb, and as he and Dante make their way over to the man, Vash... tries to think of something casual to say. Something playful to open a line with him before dropping what will, inevitably be a bomb.
...The words dry up in his throat, and even as he and Dante approach--to stand next to the man. He still quietly looks at Dante with a silent plea.
Something to break the silence--he can figure out where to go from there after. ]
no subject
[ they had all been pretty stressed with barely a moment to actually stop and breathe. even now, with vash up and walking around, it doesn't feel like they have any time to stop. this is where they should be relaxing, even celebrating vash's return to them healthy and whole, yet there is a stormcloud hanging heavily over their heads. a cloud filled to the brim with vash's fear of losing wolfwood to the vials all over again. a fear that bleeds so easily through their connected hands and settles deep into dante's marrow.
he's not far from where dante thought he would be, sticking out like a sore thumb against the white that litters the cottage. with each step they take closer dante's stomach starts to knot with dread, as if what should be a happier reunion of the three of them is destined to turn as bitter and cold as the weather around them. he pushes it aside, of course, tries to swallow it down with the same fear he can feel leeching through the warmth of vash's hand in his own.
it'll be fine. this whole thing? talking to wolfwood about the vials? it'll turn out fine in the end. it has too.
it is the sound of snow crunching underfoot that heralds their arrival before dante breaks the silence with a simple; ] Hey Nick, look who I found wandering around.
[ time to brace himself. ]
no subject
he takes another inhale off his cigarette, and only lifts his head when his name breaks the air on Dante's lips, turning with his hands tucked in his pockets, even if he doesn't really feel the cold. ]
Should be someone you put back in bed, all things considered. Grandpa's not allowed to be off bedrest yet, Uncle Scruffy.
[ still, he snuffs his cigarette with a quick pinch, tucking it into a coat pocket out of habit as he fully turns to face the two of them, stepping away from the water. ]
no subject
he knows that'd end in wrestling and arguments and...
it's probably better to TALK him out of carrying around so many--if any at all.
Even if he's really... in the mood to just take them and break them over the snow. ]
I'm fine, I'm fine. I don't really have any wounds, I'm just tired. I'll be fine.
...We wanted to talk to you.
I.
Wanted to talk to you.
[ he's already losing steam. yikes. ]
no subject
[ that is a lie. a big fat lie. he could easily wrestle vash back into bed if he really wanted to, but they all know how weak dante is to the looks vash gives him when he wants to do something he is denied. what can he say? he is a real sucker for the man, for both of them, and they both know it.
he squeezes vash's hand a little, he thinks about slipping his hand free from the plant's but that thought gets tossed aside the moment vash starts losing steam. he can only imagine how hard it is for the other to talk about, even more so to physically ask wolfwood to do this for him instead of taking the more underhanded approach. dante exhales, easy going smile dropping from his face, and focuses on wolfwood. ]
It's about the vials, Nick.