#amoirsetpacis 𓆩⟡𓆪 02

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 “Well then, what’s this?”

“Have you finished your moon trip already? I thought you’d be gone a month at least.”

Setting down his newspaper, Aurelius looks up at the owner of the impressive shadow gracing his coffee table at a beautiful little café in Cotes Ward, and smiles.

“Or are you here to thank me for the gift? There’s no need for that, but I’ll be happy to pass on your words to Klaus.”

He had seen the special package sent to Café December, hadn’t he? Surely someone would've checked the doorstep by now.

@amoirsetpacis ໒꒱

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 You—

It’s playing out like a farce, albeit an ugly one: the broken victim being helped by his equally crippled foe. This is surely a kindness, but Aurelius is hardly in a state of mind to appreciate Vash's consideration. His wounds have already turned him vigilant; that morphs to frustration when the man hasn't done either thing he's asked for, and Aurelius clenches shaking fists as he spits out censure.

"Sentimental fool."

"I don't, need—"

He runs out of breath, brows creasing as the words fade from his lips. Slowly, the edges of his vision turn dark, and Aurelius realizes with growing dread that he's about to lose consciousness. He stares furiously at Vash's fingers clutching the table across from him (suddenly, the Plant feels like a million miles away), though the anger is more at his own helplessness than anything else.

There is one thing—if only he could reach—but his limbs are anchors dragging him down to an inevitable abyss. His back twitches, and at last something responds: his sole intact wing who sweeps over the table in a final arc, golden feathers brushing roughly against something soft—Vash's arm? His cheek? Aurelius can't lift his head enough to tell. There is only the scarlet coat staining his vision as his own blood pools behind and beneath him.

"Klaus," he raises his voice in warning, each word harsher than the last: "You, do not—or else—"

Don't tell Klaus, Aurelius means to say, but fails to finish before blacking out.

★ --;; A horrified scream wants to build in Vash's chest, up his throat, but it's left to die there. What right does it have to even begin to exist? When he's the one who caused all this?

It's bee a long time since he felt like the monster he's always been capable of being. What else could he be, with the blood that further stains the table, the angel's clothes, the chair, the ground beneath their feet?

And that's the only answer that fits Aurelius' question, isn't it? Of exactly what he is. Vash doesn't even withdraw ehn the other begins to reach for him. He deserves it, doesn't he? Whatever is coming for him. His blood still rushes through his ears, chest still heaving with quick, terrified breaths a slowing rot is left to finish dripping down its path on his cheeks.

The seething anger, palpable, has no effect of intended fright. It's deserved, too. Any thought to the contrary is impossible, overwritten by the overwhelming ringing in his ears and buzzing in his limbs. They ache, but it's so far away.

The invitation is there again, too; to run away from the reality he'd kept himself from for so long. This isn't the first time he's hurt others on this island, powers ripped out from his own hands and causing nothing but bloodshed. Before then, it had been even longer since he'd lost control; was it always meant to be like this?

"I--" His hands shake, fingers curling together. Distantly, he's aware of voices again. "I can't just--" Can't just leave. Can't leave the man to bleed out by his hand, a killing undeserved, just as anyone else before him. "I have to help you, I have to--"

To what? What could he even do, except make it worse? It damns himself, but he has to find someone, anyone that can help, can do something, and he's been found guilty of no shortage of things he hasn't even done, so what's once more for something he has?

As though finally coming unfrozen Vash moves to push himself up, to do anything; only to nearly collapse under his own weight, life drained from him without his consent yet again. His vision blurs, nearly blanks out entirely as he catches himself on the sticky edge of the table, the arm supporting him and both legs shaking.

Get up. Get up. Don't wallow here.

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 For now, silence pervades their space, the back of the restaurant offering them some level of buffer against the crowds. Not for long, though (not with their mess) and Aurelius counts the seconds it takes for that clueless, weeping face to gain consciousness again.

It's a good mental exercise—calming, despite all the screaming his body does at him, bones and flesh destroyed inside his body and out. What limited healing he retains smoothes out the smaller cuts on his face and skin, leaving that flawless; the more grievous injuries remain untreated, keeping him stranded in his seat with shallow breaths.

It is altogether humiliating.

The withdrawal of the feathers is the worst, coinciding with the same time Vash gains awareness; a choked noise escapes his throat as they aggravate fresh wounds before his eyes glow a beautiful, blazing gold. How awful a sight he looks Aurelius doesn't know, but if he had the choice he would've left before letting the Plant witness this.

Loss of blood makes him sluggish, but he still has strength to prop himself up for a brief moment.

"What...are you?"

No human, but not angel nor demon enough. Too soft to be a beast, and yet he remembers the tendrils still, lashing blind and merciless. Against better judgment Aurelius reaches out, hungrily curious despite it all—until his arm gives way and sends him crashing to reality against the table.

Pride stung, a new wave of indignation rushes to take its place.

"Either finish this yourself," he rasps. "Or leave me,"

"to bleed out, alone."

His own wings flare in warning—or at least one does, while the other three half-twitch before falling limp in their broken, mangled glory.

★ --;; It's more than disorienting; where Vash felt as though he'd been slowly lowered into a doze, senses dulled and far away, the fog that had begun to act as a comforting blanket gets entirely yanked out from benath him, away from the cocoon it had formed itself into.

Like being woken up from the middle of a deep sleep, when Vash first returns to his body proper it feels as though he's fighting to return to consciousness, like nothing around him makes sense. If his eyes had been closed, it would have taken a good few moments for them to peel themselves open. But they'd never closed in the first place, so they're left blearily blinking everything back into focus, eyes dry and painful.

At first, he's not entirely sure where he is; definitely not what's happened. All he can register is the horrible buzzing in his limbs, the pounding, stabbing feeling behind his eyes. Everything is a blurry puzzle piece, not quite fitting together as it should. He groans quietly as consciousness makes him keenly aware of just how much he aches, from the inside out, bone tired and the feeling of the ends of his nerves being on fire.

Which brings everything else into terrible clarity, nearly all at once.

There's only one reason he would feel this bone-deep ache as acutely as he does, one that he is far too familiar with, and for the first time in years and years he doesn't know why. The terror that lanes through him makes Vash sit bolt upright from where he's slumped over with a shuddering gasp. Now the world narrows, blurs, for an entirely different reason.

What has he done?

What has he done?

His ears are ringing, wide eyed and frozen and unable to get enough oxygen into his lungs. His own feathers slowly retract, the threat no longer present, as the rest of him shakes. His own aches are nothing compared to what's in front of him, to the horror making his own veins fill with ice.

His first instinct is to run; to bolt out of here as fast as he can, away from so many eyes that will now only perceive him as the monster he'd hoped he wasn't, anymore. But even getting his voice to work, his lips to move to form any sort of sound, feels like an impossibility, entire body frozen in place. The black rot that had beaded in his tear ducts now takes a different path, slow to ooze down the highs of his cheeks.

He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do. Beneath the pure shock is the pain wracking through his body, and beyond the two of them he doesn't know what to do.

"I--... what--...?"

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 It's a failure.

Realizing too late that he's only provoked his charge, Aurelius switches to the defensive, shielding himself as best he can from the chaos hellbent on ripping him apart. Alas, he's a sitting duck.

His wings bear the brunt of the assault, but eventually start to crumple beneath the relentless attacks until one tendril slices through a joint connecting it to his back, causing Aurelius to freeze in place. Another two seize the opening to strike equally weak points, crippling the angel to the point he falls forward on the table.

"—!"

"— —!!!"

Three wings now hang useless as the remaining one struggles to deflect and defend, while Aurelius comes face-to-face with Vash's sleeping expression and the strange discharge flowing from both eyes. Startled by the sight, he pushes himself backwards, dismissing his seal just as fingers finally slip off Vash's wrist.

For the first time, Aurelius sorely feels the limitations of his still-human body. He'd dearly like to raise his fist and punch Vash awake right now, but the searing pain in his wings and arm, along with a host of other increasing injuries, keeps him sprawled on the table in a listless heap.

"...all right," Light as a feather, he concedes between breaths. "You...win."

★ --;; Despite the wreckage around the both of them, the blood that spatters and the distinct sound of bone snapping, Vash's face remains empty and eyes unseeing. He feels both a part of his body and not, that strange fog still permeating through his consciousness. There is a part of him that begged for all this to stop, years ago now; that had forced this defense system to stop in its assault, in its self-imposed will to kill so separate from his own.

But those two part aren't connected, now. Distantly, there's the vague recognition of what Aurelius has said; that all of this is a trick being played on him. But Vash is floating, apart from himself. It almost feels like he's become a mimicry of one of his sisters, separated by frosted glass instead of clear and see-through. Like he's got a fist against the barrier, but there's no one there on the other side to hear it. It's too lethargic, anyway-- though that same calm may not be pressing into the rest of his body, to the feathers still furiously whipping about, it leaves his consciousness' eyes drooping.

Vash can hear something, though. Someone speaking. Other voices. There's fear in them. Why? He's so tired, now. Maybe if he sleeps here there will finally be some relief.

If anything, the more forceful the demand pressed into the skin of his wrist, the angrier the tendrils spawning from his body react; they lash out again, faster, meaner. The body cannot move and therefore must protect itself, must keep itself safe, no matter the cost.

Part of which is the body itself; from where he'd been sitting upright, Vash's torso slowly bends in on itself, like puppet strings slowly fraying thread by thread until they give up entirely. While the rampage still goes on above him, Vash's face finds itself against the sun-warmed surface of the table. The tea cups have already been shattered-- liquid drips from the sides of the table, though he's been lucky enough not to stick his cheek in it.

Instead rot beads at the corner of his eyes, black and viscous, the eye closer to the surface making a small puddle of its own while the other threatens to spill over.

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 Aurelius is surprised. Knowing from experience that the younger Vash is a liar, he doesn't hold out much expectation for the older one. When the man starts sprouting feathers like a new species of fern, however, all he can do is stop and stare.

Exactly what manner of creature was he? Stamps had been quite pretty, with etched designs on skin like living porcelain; this has more of a wilder feel, like lush weeds left to run amok in the garden. His curiosity flares even as he continues to soothe the Plant's increasingly docile mind—he had his word to keep, after all.

Until the backlash hits.

A terrible premonition floods his thoughts before their space is shot to bits, the feathers turned hostile as they rip the makeshift shelter apart. Aurelius' eyes flit towards Vash—but he's still blank-faced and unaware, leaving him to realize that the rampage seems to have a mind of its own.

At least he had the saving grace of asking the waiter to clear the space of people before the session began.

"Tsk, I hadn't foreseen this."

"You've played a fine trick on m—!!"

Golden wings abruptly burst into view—not to flee, but to shield—at the same time Aurelius pushes his chair sideways. Not a moment too soon, because the rush of feathers aiming for his chest miss just enough to pierce through his arm instead. Other tendrils hit his wings, twisting ligaments or stabbing past bone, scattering stray golden feathers to the ground.

For a second the angel can hardly breathe, being literally pinned in place. His right hand instinctively clutches at his arm to stem the bleeding, but the fingers of his left hand are still firmly wrapped around Vash's wrist to keep him—well, the more reasonable half of him—in a stupor. He squeezes the digits next, exerting his will with much more force.

"......"

"Stop this. Now."

It was worth one more try, at least.

★ --;; But he just said ... ?

Any of Aurelius' contradictions get pushed to the wayside, as well as the fact that Vash very much does not trust the man sitting opposite of him, gets swept away from the forefront of his mind as contact is made. AT the first touch, Vash flinches just the bit, the flash of heat against his wrist bright and unexpected.

Not a moment later comes everything else; the sensation of something trying to sweep him away, so similar to being consumed. The feeling of his consciousness being stripped away from him, the detachment from his own body. The intensity is different though, the malicious intent that had fueled those attempts at the loss of himself does not exist here.

But those times before- where he had nearly been forced to become one, where uranium and nickel and acid had filled his mouth and burned so brightly through his veins, where each of his muscles had been bound so tightly, forced to contortion- had not met him at the end of his life. Had not met him when there was hardly anything left, when systems on the cusp of his control would do anything to keep him safe were he not able to do so on his own.

It happens slowly, at first. Bright blue eyes glaze over, dull in their sockets, and any of the lines that ha drawn themselves into Vash's face out of apprehension go slack completely. Feathers unfurl and manifest one plume at a time; along the high of his cheeks and the dark of his hairline and the bend of his organic wrist still against the table, above the sleeves of his coat. They move as though breathing along with him as they sprout.

Until alarm bells finally start to blare through the fog of artificial calm. Until all at once, the threat is perceived; someone is trying to pilot this body, and it is not himself.

All at once the privacy that the both of them had been given flies apart; screens are punctured, the frames holding them together splintered, the sound of pots shattering and soil spilling over. There is a threat. Something is Wrong. There is a threat. Something is Wrong.

Vash himself remains still, eyes still glazed over and looking at nothing. Angry white tendrils continue their assault, lashing out violently and nearly too fast to perceive, until a split second later when they determine who is doing this-- and pierce forward to strike.

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 He was very picky, Aurelius thought privately. First asking him questions, then wanting more than just answers, then disliking the way Aurelius offered to explain himself...at least that's how the angel saw it anyways. While Stamps was almost too eager to please, this Vash had his own particulars that he stuck to stubbornly.

At least he was polite about it.

And at least he was truly interested in the opportunity, if the hand stretched towards him was any proof.

"I'll keep a cup in reserve for you," he says diplomatically. "I'm quite aware of how much you can talk if you're in the mood for it."

"And of course I'm here to listen. But that depends on how much you'd like to share, while I'm not the pushy type."

Really, all he did was ask every time.

Aurelius waits until the staff's cleared out before his eyes drift down to Vash's wrist. "I'll give you the same explanation I told your relative. As an angel, I have the power to bless others. For the next 30 minutes I'll be extending my blessing to you to help you relax."

"You only need to trust me and listen. There's no need to even think." With those cheerful reminders out of the way, the angel rests his hand over Vash's arm, finds a section of exposed skin, and gently imprints his seal.

★ --;; "It's not... urgent, I mean," Vash finally murmurs as the few staff members disappear and reappear, essentially creating an entire room in record time. No where near an emergency, as the other seems to think. Having watched the waiter walk away in such a state gets chalked up yet again to the amount of things about this entire encounter that are rubbing him the wrong way, instincts blaring loudly in the back of his mind.

"And-- um. I'm, uh, fine, thanks. Without tea." The newly-walled-off nature of their meeting space isn't exactly helpful to making him feel relaxed, either. If anything, it only makes him a bit more antsy at what it may look like to passerby, and if the bad feeling in his gut winds up being correct it's not private enough for whatever may come to pass, either. Much as always, the situation doesn't particularly seem in his favor.

But the longer he waits the longer it'll draw everything out, he figures. Best to rip it off like a bandage; if nothing happens, then he was worried for nothing, and if something does happen- well. It's not as though 'strange' things really were strange in this city, more often than not, and even if the lapse in the memory of the younger Plant makes Vash feel anxious it at least didn't seem like anything physical had happened.

If something happens to his memories, if this Stampede can't remember the goings on of this appointment, then that'll be a completely different story. At least he's prepared for the possibility of it, queasy as it may make him.

"It-- this is okay, I guess." Hesitatingly, he reaches his own hand across the table, though he doesn't take Aurelius' yet. "But isn't that what a therapist is supposed ta' do? Listen to all of someone's problems?"

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 Oblivious, yes. But why would he question the Plant’s motives when the other has always been forthright? Now Aurelius looks almost hurt as he turns towards Vash with his bright golden eyes.

"I was under the impression that you needed immediate relief."

"Have you ever heard of a doctor choosing locations to treat his patient emergency? Truly, your proclivity for privacy exceeds my expectations."

Seeing a passing waiter, Aurelius flags him down, takes him by the wrist, and murmurs instructions in his ear. The man looks dazed for a bit before wandering off, while the angel resumes their previous conversation.

“I do have a nice couch in my office, but we’re obviously not there at the moment. In any case, that’s just the classic image of a therapist’s office rather than any reflection of their skill. Did you want some tea?”

By now the waiter’s returned with a fresh pot and two cups, along with three other men who bring planters full of tall leafy plants and multiple folding screens. In a few minutes they’ve started setting up a small private place around the two men made up of temporary walls and greenery.

“If you want something more private than this, we might as well reschedule,” Aurelius says as the staff work. “I did say I wanted you to relax, not confess all your unending woes to my ear.”

★ --; Well. At least he's been doing a decent enough job at not showing al the thoughts running through his head; or this guy really is just that oblivious. Maybe Vash has been spending too much time around people who can read him like a book-- who knows.

If he were a little bit meaner, had ant less of a filter than he does- which isn't much of one to begin with- he'd crack some sort of joke about the guy not having much business. As it stands, Vash only gives Aurelius a bit of an incredulous look, hesitating for just a moment before slowly lowering himself into the opposite chair.

For now, Vash keeps his hands to himself, glancing down at the preferred hand and back up again. His own arms stay crossed in front of him on top of the table. The situation feels very much the opposite of relaxing, despite the other's claims, if he's being honest. The angel's word choice again isn't helping; the thought of something being 'locked up' away from Vash's own knowledge, leaves him feeling itchy.

"Out here?" he asks instead, making a bit of a show of looking around. There aren't that many others sitting around, but they are here, along with the few staff members milling about. "What about that whole 'patient confidentiality' thing you were just tellin' me about? Doesn't really seem conducive ta' that. I've never been to a therapist before, but aren't you supposed to use one of those weird shaped couches or somethin?"

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 “You must be more stressed than you let on,” Aurelius observes while watching Vash speak. “I don’t have many clients, so my schedule’s highly flexible.”

“For example, I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.”

He gestures to an empty seat across from him, openly inviting the Plant to sit. “At any rate, the complimentary session won’t take longer than 30 minutes, so it shouldn’t inconvenience either of us.”

Was it similar personalities or just ingrained traits that spurred both Vashes to seek his help? The possibility that this Vash could think poorly of him never crosses the angel’s mind—after all, he’d hardly done anything against his conscience. And from what he’s learned himself so far, this perfectly aligned with accepted human principles.

“You shouldn’t feel surprised. Familiarity between family and friends is precisely the stumbling block that prevents many from admitting their own insecurities. There is much more at stake to lose, you see—or change, irrational as that fear may be. Therefore, it’s common for people to unburden themselves to strangers instead.”

Unfolding his arms, he beckons for Vash’s hand. “Think of me as your personal safe. Whatever you wish to lock up with me is your choice, but I can give you the key to retrieve it anytime.”

“Today, I am simply here to help you relax.”

★ --;; With each word out of Aurelius' mouth Vash's perturbation only grows, unseen hackles raising at the implications of things admitted so casually by the other. As though having that sort of access to somebody unaware of it all somehow registered as okay; not even okay, but interesting. It makes it taste like bile in the back of his throat.

To his credit, his fists stay unclenched at his sides, shifting his weight as though it were entirely natural, without that awful feeling gnawing away inside his chest. "We're both pretty private," says, "which just made me surprised that he'd go and talk about it at all, y'see." And on top of that, he's not even sure how much the younger Stampede had said-- what he had said. It had taken months of prodding and pulling to tell his older reflection anything at all, and only then it had come at the expense of Archimedes.

Not to mention everything else, the laundry list that constructed their lives outside of the catastrophic. They both sat on houses built of cards, lies and half-truths and omissions their fibers, and very few were as savvy to it as they were about themselves. Letting one or two drop almost always feels like the entire structure crumbling, inevitably to be rebuilt again in some form or fashion.

But as much as it sends sirens blaring in the back of his mind, the offer is there. To see for himself exactly what had happened, to know. The admission of his successor not knowing what had happened during the session makes this Stampede's skin crawl; too many moments of being out of control, of not remembering, of not holding the keys to his own body sit under his belt.

" ... D'you think so?" he finally asks. Schooling his face is old hat to Vash, but the discomfort still sits angrily beneath his carefully constructed mask. "What does your schedule look like? This was my last stop a' the day, but I get not wantin' to work when you dont have to."

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 Is that what happened? Granted, it was his first time using his blessing on anyone in this island, so the results were a mystery. Moreover, he'd been intentionally holding back its effects. Whether it was his powers or Stamps' own disorientation that blurred the sequence of events in the Plant's head would need more uses of the skill to verify.

"Interesting," he says out loud, expression unperturbed as far as Vash's comments went. It was helpful insight for his abilities, after all.

"I can't say I intended for him to forget anything, but perhaps that's for the best."

"Your relative strikes me as an exceedingly private person. I wouldn't be surprised if his own subconscious blocked the contents of our conversation, although he was happy to answer anything I asked during the session. That being said..."

He pauses to pick up his cup of tea, taking a slow sip in the afternoon light.

"Our exchange was built upon a basis of mutual trust. Frankly speaking, I was touched by Mr. Stamps' faith in me, and I have no intention to betray his trust in turn. Please understand if I remain vague with details to uninvolved parties—patient confidentiality is very important in our line of work."

He raises his drink in a mock toast.

"Of course, you're welcome to a complimentary session as well. I do think we'd get along well enough to make it work."

★ --;; A nice...?

Vash's eyebrows furrow. What he'd already been told by his younger counterpart and what he's being told don't match up; which only adds to the uneasy feeling that had settled in his gut when he'd been told about the 'session'.

"He's been fine." At least, as far as Vash knows.

"He... told me about your clinic, yeah. Said it had been really helpful, but-- well. Said somethin' about... not rememberin' most of it, bein' asleep and all. Didn't really say anything about havin' a proper conversation." He tries to choose his words carefully, tries not to weave any accusation in them, hopes he's at least mostly successful.

"So I was just... wonderin' how that'd work at all, really. Kinda difficult ta' talk about things that bother you if you're not awake." Not to mention just how cagey the both of them could be. Just telling this guy about their burdens still felt... out of place, for either one of them.

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 The schematics of their naming implied a more complex history, but fortunately Aurelius had zero interest in surname genealogy. What were they except identifiers of a clan? Even angels held them in his world. He follows Vash’s train of thought to the main topic without protest.

“Correct. It was a suggestion he readily accepted on my part.” Never mind the process that came before it.

“Mr. Stamps seemed an excitable sort, so I felt the rest would do him good. Thus our session ended on a relaxed note after a nice talk.”

“I suppose he’s already told you about my clinic if you know this much? You see, I’ve found my own alternatives to observing and aiding the humans of this world.”

He doesn’t bother offering a business card to Vash, but smiles guilelessly at him instead.

“Has Mr. Stamps been well in the interim? I extended an invitation for him to meet again, but he never did respond. I suppose being forgetful runs in your family.”

★ --;; Vash almost tries to correct- to argue that the combination isn't nonsensical, that it makes perfect sense- but decides against it. Honestly, considering who he's talking to, it probably wouldn't do any good anyway.

"It is," he admits. It's hyphenated now, but still. "It's... a long story. I chose to take that name. It's up to him if he ever chooses to or not." It's something he'd kept largely private for so long that even now, after having it spread all over the city, it feels odd for people to know. Like a small part of himself that he hadn't been entirely ready to give away yet-- at least to so many people. Where it comes from, at least, is still private, for the most part.

"The whole relationship between me n' the little guy is... complicated," he offers by way of explanation. "Sorta' only possible 'cause of this place. Another long story, I guess." Habits continue, his hand coming up to the back of his neck as he tries to laugh off any sort of deeper digging.

"Speaking of-- he told me you two had a 'session', but uh-- he said he fell asleep?"

[hollowfaith]

「✧」 “You're very welcome. I had no knowledge of the garden, but I'm glad you have a place for it."

"I'll give Klaus credit for delivery, however; he's better with the postal system than I am."

His expression eases into amusement as the conversation continues: first because today's Vash seems to love sunglasses as much as Wolfwood does, secondly because, pity of pities, the man hadn't come expressly to his table to say hello, but seemed to be just passing by. Perhaps it was forward of him to presume that such a busy man would ever seek him out by choice.

Honeymoon?

"Right, it went by a name like that. I'm afraid I have trouble remembering nonsensical combinations."

Maybe that's why he missed this man's name the first time around. What struck him instead was Vash's colossal height and bright red coat, which had then led to him spontaneously asking the other to be a bodyguard/tour guide.

"Your full name is Vash Saverem, then?" he asks, recalling the text on the wedding invitation. "Your family seems to have dispensed with surnames altogether by the time your shorter, blonder relation came into being. Quite the interesting choice."

★ --;; After the both of them having such a length of time entirely to themselves after the wedding, easing back in to normalcy is done a bit slowly. Although eventually Vash started to feel the itch of perpetually needing something to do, it had at least waited until the very end, and even then it had been met with a strange mixture of hesitance, having gotten a bit more spoiled than usual to all the uninterrupted attention.

The first day back at the florists' had left him with only a few deliveries to make, a few greetings to regulars mixed in with congratulations. Vash's mood is still effortlessly light and warm, too, given the week he's had. It's calm and easy, and the final one he has for the day is for several bouquets to a café nearby before he's to be let off for the afternoon.

Still, it's a bit difficult not to sour just the bit at the voice he's met with as he's about to head back out.

"Honeymoon," he corrects, pulling a smile on his face. Luckily, at least, he's got his sunglasses on to hide any dissonance in his eyes. "And, uh, no-- just a bit more than a week. We were just over in Sunset Circuit." Vash... still isn't all that keen on going back up into the space station, if that's what he meant; the Humanoid Typhoon and the moon are a bit of an infamous duo, and he'd rather not have to stare at another huge crater, even if it wasn't made by him this time.

Vash had had... mixed feelings, about the box that had arrived in their home. It had been a thoughtful gift, especially from one that doesn't know them all that well, and for that he knows he should be grateful. The other part of him, though, couldn't shake the bad feeling that had been planted in his stomach all those months ago upon his first meeting with Aurelius, upon what the younger Stampede had said about his interactions with the angel since then. Still, it sits, waiting to be properly placed in the garden. They should do that sooner rather than later, probably, before Kuroneko decides it's something for her instead.

"You're the one who sent it, aren't you?" he asks anyway. "A thanks t'you both sounds more fitting. We have a garden at home, so it'll fit well there."