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The unbearable heat was merciless, trying to fry him alive as he treaded exhausted through the scolding sand. The dunes dragged on endlessly, not helping his already weakened, fatigued mind. If he didn't know better, he would swear that he had already passed the same mound of dusty dirt more than he could count.
It didn't help that he could feel his boots becoming the second and third desert with every step through this powdery, coarse hellscape.
He took a sip out of an almost empty flask. Not nearly enough to satiate the burn he could feel in his stomach. It's never enough. No matter how he tries to silence it. He can't. Its everlasting presence is a reminder of his differences from humans. Always a reminder that he could never be one. Nor even close enough to resemble one fully. He may be closer in his build than any of his sisters, but that made all the dissimilarities stand out more.
Too sharp nails, perfect for severing skin. Too many of the sharp incisors, perfect to maul anything that would come in their range.
He shook his head trying to get rid of those thoughts, trying to focus on the road ahead. He was tired and hungry. Always hungry. If he doesn't take any breaks then he should be nearing a settlement in maybe a few hours.
He will reward himself with some sweet donuts. He liked them, their taste and texture, almost like a gift from heaven. His only problem with them was that they did not satisfy him. They couldn't shush the hunger pangs that required more of him than a puny little piece of jam filled, fried dough.
Another hour went by surprisingly without any fanfare, same for the next two. Finally, after traveling endlessly and with fatigue weighing heavy on him, he could just make out the sharp angles of the highest buildings jutting out from the crest over the horizon.
He was almost there.
And of course it was this moment his incredible luck chose to strike.
Before him stood a cluster of men, grouped together and stationed here for a clear purpose: violence. Perhaps they were the kind that were willing to prey on anyone passing by. The fact remained that they were in his way, and he was so, so hungry. But thoughts like this were dangerous, so he fought them back and focused on how to get by. The group ahead of him looked as if they waited for his arrival.
Even in the peak condition he would struggle to keep himself from spilling unnecessary blood. Ripping them all to shreds would be so easy. Using his own hands, as to spare bullets. He didn't want to. He shouldn't want to.
Speaking of now? He was pretty much standing dead on his feet. Powering through using pure determination.
Which was wearing off too quickly for his own liking.
The only thing saving him from his fate, as either bullet mince or stepping as low as his brother, was them being distracted by someone just out of his sight.
He should use this moment to slip away and backtrack. Maybe there is some other settlement nearby, one that didn't have gangsters armed to the teeth as their welcome wagon.
…
Who was he kidding?
He had dragged himself through this sandy hell for days without even a promise of civilization. Trying to turn around would mean another set of days, maybe weeks without the possibility of getting any supplies nor resting. He couldn't even guarantee that they wouldn't notice him nor that they wouldn't follow after him.
He chose the only logical thing at the moment and just remained in his hiding spot. The dune he was behind didn’t provide any kind of protection against either blazing suns nor wind. At least from this angle he was somewhat obscured from people.
He should wait and see how things would play out.
He did not have to wait for long, as the person who eluded his line of sight finally moved into it. His blood ran cold when he saw a familiar figure clad in white. Someone with whom he shared an almost perfect resemblance. There was nothing good that could come out of his brother being here in person, instead of sending one of his many underlings.
Things were starting to get heated; the idiot men were crowding around the figure cloaked in white, and he could barely make out the hollers and jeering words towards his brother. In their ego-inflated ignorance, this group of thugs never knew that they could never stand a chance against the eldest twin.
"Shit" he thought to himself, and everyone's head immediately turned to look in the direction of where he was.
…
He did not just say it out loud, did he?
Even if.. they most likely didn't hear him, right?
Fuck.
He ducked down, covering his head as a shot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off of his prosthetic. Hesitation for even a mere second, would result in the lead lodged deep in his forehead. With his brain matter scattered in the sand, left to rot or as a meal to the scavengers. He scampered away, frantically checking for damage over the emerald surface of his left arm, and sighing in relief when he found none. To be stuck with only one functioning arm while facing Knives would be very bad, especially considering his current disadvantage of how malnourished he was.
His brother moved at incredible speed, no human eye could hope to follow his movements. There were brief flashes of sunlight glittering against the blur of the razor thin edge of multiple blades, then suddenly a spray of blood misted the sweltering desert air.
The man who had shot at him was nothing more than a casualty now, with a single precise cut sending his head off, stuck frozen in the confused expression. All that remained in its place was but a cloud of red. Blood falling almost like rain in the fat droplets, soaking the sand beneath as it greedily drank it up, turning the ground dark and sticky like a paste as the body fell right into it with a dull thud.
'Shit shit shit...!'
If he didn't act now, then a bloodbath was guaranteed.
He starts running toward the group before he even thinks about it, his lungs burning with every ragged breath, as he tries to close the distance; slipping with each haphazardly taken step while trying to get down the dune. Praying inside to not lose his balance, as he was more than sure he wouldn’t stand back up if he fell right now. He could choose the safer option and run around the sandy mound instead.
But there simply wasn’t time for safety!
His hand automatically reached for the gun resting in his thigh holster. He was low on ammunition - critically low. He had no more than four bullets. Against Knives, it would be too little to do any lasting damage. The best he could hope for was creating a distraction. He had to try something, anything that could give the humans even the smallest chance of escape.
One bullet down.
The silvery constructs of his brother stopped dead in their tracks as his first hit its target, bouncing off with metallic clang.
It got the attention he wanted, making the older twin shift his focus from screaming and begging people to his brother.
Two bullets down.
He had to give a little bit of encouragement to the humans to make them scram and run for their lives.
Three bullets down.
His brother rushed toward him, serpentine knives first. If he didn't know better, he would be sure that they aimed to kill.
He pulled the trigger, expecting the trusted kickback of his gun and a sharp clang of metals colliding against each other, but was only met with the sound of an empty click. Out of bullets? But he counted- a sudden strong wave of dizziness hit him, making him stumble weakly across the sand. The world tilted and spun around him, almost as if he was on the verge of being blackout drunk. He faintly registered whizzing by the side of his head, far too close to be ignored like a mere wind, as it brought with itself sombering pain and wet warmth that traveled down the side of his face and neck until it met the collar of his shirt. One of his brother’s many blades had nicked the shell of his ear and the pain of it was enough for him to pull himself upright.
But his body seized - running only on adrenaline and not having any other fuel to depend on, it was all culminating to this fine point at the end of his tether, where the lack of energy had him falling forward in a boneless heap, the world shifting around him once again.
"VASH" he could hear his brother's loud shout. He couldn't remember the last time he heard this voice filled with anything that wasn't disgust or anger. It was concerned? He wasn't sure. Once upon a time, they were so close that one could read what bothered the other without exchanging any words. He could feel the same serpentine knives now wrapping around him, saving him from falling face first into the sand.
The air was thick, resembling more of a liquid than gas. Hard to breathe in, as he gasped, trying to force his lungs to take it in. Nausea held a tight grip on him as he was moved closer, almost face to face with his brother.
He looked up trying to make the world stop for the moment as he tried to focus on features in front of him. He sighed in defeat as the concern on his brother's face morphed into an expression of pure anger and disappointment.
"Vash, " he repeated, sounding as if a parent was scolding their young child. "You've been starving yourself again?" He more stated than asked, already knowing the answer by simply looking at his sunken cheeks and tired, bruised eyes.
He didn't speak, biting his lip to stop himself from making any snarky remarks. If he did, he would only anger the other further. They were too close to the settlement for that. He didn't want for the innocent people living in it to die, just because he could not hold his tongue.
He whimpered weakly in protest, struggling in the hold of the blades as they moved again. He knew he wouldn't be able to get free without wounding himself, but it didn't stop him from trying as they approached the fresh body lying on the ground. He was just a kid, barely an adult by society's norm, with a whole life ahead of him. Cut short due to bad luck really. Another death he's responsible for. Another one added to the long list of lives he has to atone for.
Finally the sticky smell of blood hit him and it should make him even more sick than he already was.
But...
But he couldn't help and hungrily swallowed the spit that collected in his mouth. It was disgusting how his body craved it. He shouldn't. He did not want to. Yet he had to fight with his instincts... With his own body to stay still, to not launch at a lying corpse. It was another thing that alienated him from being human.
Another aspect of himself that he hated to the core.
His brother spared him a glance, looking almost guilty when faced with his anguish, at the desperate famish that twisted his features.
More blade-like appendages appeared out of thin air, and lunged quickly, with utmost precision, cutting off an arm from the young man lying on the sand.
It was so mesmerizing, watching knives slash through layers of
muscles,
fat,
skin
and bone
like they were made of softened butter.
"Please" he begged, not knowing for what. For stopping this torture? To let him have a go at fresh meat? To not desecrate the body of a poor soul, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?
He had no idea.
He felt a pang of disappointment when his brother took severed limb for himself. He zoned in on the droplet of ichor that smeared on tips of Knives’ pale hands, as he grabbed it himself. He didn't waste any time before taking a bite out of it.
It was pure cruelty.
He couldn't help but to feel an ugly, gnawing jealousy brewing in the pit of his stomach.
His brother took mercy upon him. Instead of taking another bite, he moved closer, holding out the freshly bitten flesh like some kind of morbid offering.
He refused to open his mouth stubbornly, even if he wanted to do nothing more than to sink his own incisors in it.
He could feel how it was still warm, and just could imagine the taste of it. He did not want to. Not now. Not ever. He clenched his jaw, not letting anything past his lips.
His brother wouldn't allow him to do that, as he moved his free hand under his chin, pressing hand on the hinge of his jaw. It hurt. It hurt enough that he let his mouth fall open. Before he could shut them, his mouth was filled with warm, sweet meat. He couldn't spit it out either due to the sheer size of it.
Neither did he want to.
He tries to stop but can't.
And just bites off chunks of given flesh, barely chewing between each. After so long without consuming the only thing that could nourish him, he forgot what his hunger pangs felt like. More so got used to them so much, that they resembled no more than a murmur in the background. But now, a fresh and warm limb is forced in his mouth. So sweet and begging to be bitten and swallowed. Just as the first drop lands in his mouth; the twisting pain of his shriveled stomach makes it seem like the purest divine elixir. His struggles cease to exist - at least outwardly as he battles with himself more than his twin, who keeps the tantalizing morsel by his face.
It's so wrong.
So wrong.
Wrong!
WRONG!
That the sweetest piece of meat he tastes - that he REQUIRES - comes from someone who just mere minutes ago was a breathing, living person. Someone who could never guess that they would end up as a meal to a mockery of humanity that he was.
The hand behind his jaw worked more as the guide for it to close than the driving force behind it. The skin of the teared limb gave way so easily, as soft and supple as a fresh baked donut, the juicy meat tender between his teeth.
His mouth flooded with the sweetest liquid he tasted in the longest time. Much better, the flavor so much clearer than fleeting drops that he got to lick off his lips whenever a droplet of crimson was sent flying by bullet from wounds of whoever was in close enough proximity to him. He would swear that he moaned, when his upper and lower molars finally met, enclosing a piece of muscle tissue behind them. If blood of this unfortunate soul was like the greatest sweet, then this was ambrosia in its purest form. He chewed through this piece barely enough before swallowing it in large gulps.
Barely balancing on the border of choking as he took
another bigger bite.
And then another one.
One after another.
Famished and desperate, as this heavenly treat could be stolen from him at any point. He knew better than that. As neither the limb his brother held nor the hand that still was plastered on his face moved away from him. The hand on him now more caressed his throat, than held tightly. It didn't force his mouth to open or close, as he chewed open-mouthed, so loud that the wet squelch from his feast and his deep desperate breaths were the only things he could hear. Even if he could swear that somewhere in the background of his frenzy filled brain there was smooth, melodic praise coming from Nai.
Eventually, his teeth met the resistance of bone, the hard surface so different from the soft, tender meat he had just eaten.. He didn't stop. Didn't want to stop. Instead, he forced his jaws closed until the bone cracked under the pressure revealing a tantalizing, almost jelly-like treat inside. It was so much different to what he just consumed, but still as rewarding in flavor, if not better. He bit and chewed on the calcium creation, even as the grainy texture and tiny shard hurt his tongue and back of the throat. Just to get to more of the hidden treasure he so much craved now. Alas nothing could last as his sweet morsel, now but a mess of bone fragments and muscle scraps held by ligaments,
got taken away from him.
He would follow it like a dog fetching a ball, if not for the binds restricting his movement to nothing more than a weak trash.
Hunger still raging through him like a fire through a wooden house. He was ready to throw any resemblance of pride he had, and beg pitfully.
Just for one more lick,
one more drop to be dropped on his tongue,
just a single nibble.
Anything to silent the screaming rapturous hunger, that still clung to him, like sweat and dirt would to skin after a long trip.
He didn't have to plead as another limb was cut off by one of his brother's bladed appendages, and brought closer to him. He could feel saliva running down his chin. And he swallowed hard. No better than a mutt awaiting its release command, just to dig in its food.
This piece was even more alluring than the last one. He opened his mouth, awaiting for it to be pressed to his lips like the last one was. The taste of the leftover blood on his saliva was heavy as he panted deeply in expectation. He watched as the leg slowly moved closer to him, like a hawk would observe prey. Abruptly it stopped, just mere centimeters before his anticipating mouth. The pathetic whine erupted from his throat as it didn’t budge. This was so cruel and he was close to raise an argument with his brother,
beg him for mercy,
threaten him to comply,
just…
just do anything - suddenly the meaty gift, the sweet treasure was in his face, so close that his nose could touch it. He inhaled deeply the intense aroma, nosing along the expanse of the skin until he got to the cut edge, where it was the strongest.
He panted over his ambrosia, pulling out his tongue to taste the ichor. It moved closer to his sharp teeth, but it was outside of his own understanding that he was the one responsible for its movement and not his brother who stood nearby. Observing his actions, as the serpentine creations shifted lazily in the air moments before disappearing into the cloak, that now covered him.
He heard a loud crunch as he took a bite, too big for a normal human, far outside of possibility for a human . His features stretched far, far too wide, as his jaws unlocked. Like a grotesque, ugly mockery wearing human skin that didn’t completely fit its own flesh. He could feel his cheeks burn as they moved beyond recognition, movement so forgotten with the time, but at the same they moved effortlessly, as muscle memory kicked in where practiced one had failed.
At that moment he was no better than a monster he truly was. Feasting on an innocent being without even a drop of shame. Like a mutt he was no better than. Still even with a small voice at the back of his head, begging him to save what was left of his own humanity and stop, he didn't tho. And clutched the limb in his own hands. Breaking the skin so easily as if it was made out of tissue paper.
With his own hands?
…
Since when?
He momentarily stopped, shocked at his new found freedom. Limb layed heavily in his own hands, as he tried to understand what was happening. His own nerves burned, too wide awake, too keen on focusing on his own nails gripping and piercing skin so, so deeply. Of his own fingers getting soaked in the dark red liquid which like temptress allured him to continue.
To take a sip, just another tiny, microscopic bite.
To rip and shred.
To lick and worship what was so gracefully given to him.
He tried to fight it, his own nature, as his morality cried with every single piece he swallowed, dying inside him pitifully, begging for mercy as the sweet morsel got lighter and lighter with every desperate mouthful.
Soon he licked his fingers clean of any leftover, and fell down his knees as any residual fight left him. Almost like a sinner begging his god for the mercy of not being smitten. He wanted to beg. For what? He couldn't answer.
Who? He didn't know.
Was he to beg his brother for another piece?
To spare him from himself?
To kill him so he couldn't sin anymore.
Or the object of his desperate prayer-like plea was his own wicked nature, which didn’t spare him from tarnishing hunger. One that left him weak on his legs, exhorting ever so present guilt. Which like a blackened tar stuck to any and every part of his consciousness. He shouldn’t be forced to consume what should be one of his own. One of his brethren, who did not know better, before they have fallen victim to their twisted actions. Both being of the worst caliber, but at least murder by his brother's hands… His many blades was a swift one, where the poor victim did not have enough time to even register the end. Him on the other hand? His actions were unforgivable. To defile the body was the worst of the sins. One which you couldn’t atone for. And he desecrated this barely an adult, treating him worse than butcher treats carcass of the slaughtered pig.
In this short moment of overbearing, guilt ridden clarity, he remembered the words of praise and remorse uttered so quietly, that they fell silent for the normal person's hearing. Only broken by a shuffle of wooden beads beating against each other and the silver cross stuck to the end an old rosary. Action done out of guilt and shame, hidden from everyone, almost intimate in its hush, private nature. Conversation… No… The Confession between the disciple and his god. He thought if he too should try to speak to him, seek his mercy upon this ugly, monstrous creation. He wanted to know why, in god's supposedly endless mercifulness, was he allowed to step between humans, to breathe the same air, for his heart to pump the same red liquid, that his veins bled undistinguished from the humans.
He couldn't know, he didn't want to answer that. Too scared to find an answer no matter what it was.
As his consciousness teared itself in the self guilt, his brother's movements evaded his perception, even when his broad, tall figure blocked the rays of the sun, drowning him in his shadow. It took him quite a while to come back from the depths of his own mind. And notice his brother's extended arm as if he wanted to help him up.
He graciously took an outstretched hand in his own and felt himself being dragged from the sandy ground below his knees, up to his unsteady feet. Without evidence of his brother using any strength. As if he weighed nothing at all. He may as well with how his body was starved before all of this.
He watched as Nai tugged his cloak, pulling it open to wrap both of them in it, hiding evidence stuck to him, tainting his face and clothes in the darkening, reddish stains.
With so much care and softness, that he didn’t know the other was able to possess.
His brother hugged his side tightly, as the white, iridescent cloak covered more of his disheveled appearance when he inched closer to the other one. His presence and warmth were comforting as when they hugged when they were mere children in the vast empty confinement of the seeds ship.
So familiar yet so alien.
But he couldn’t ask for anything else. As he was all but dragged from the scene of the bloodshed. He didn’t care where, just to be taken away from here.
“Everything’s gonna be alright now, Vash, ” his brother said.