#merynger 8

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@merynger

This morning, the mouth of the Umber canyon only has a few standing by for incoming company. Visitors tended to trickle in closer to sunset, when the heat didn't bear down as pure in the dregs of summer, even if the precarious route through looked less sure for it.

But this isn't anything Noman's Land inhabitants hadn't handled before—what a mercy it was, to have a lone sun. It made life so much more sustainable.

Around the corner-end of the canyon, shaded by the rock wall, Vash the Stampede is making friendly small-talk with a brand new friend, a self-proclaimed disbeliever of tabloids on print; there's a verbal swap of fondly exaggerated anecdotes in its stead, and then in solidarity an evening-out of the water in their canteens. Any further words are unnecessary; the two exchange a head-tilt to the other in respect, and then they are strangers once more.

When that red coat turns, as vibrant as ever in the sun, his smile and his lost-tech are both glittering bright toward his friend's arrival.

"Meryl!" he chirps in the same cheery way as ever, waving to her with that seaglass hand. "You made it...!"

His other hand is gently braced against their ride: a giant boar, shaggy with brown fur, back adorned with a two-seater saddle and cargo pockets, a small ornate carpet underneath it all… The beast is protected and decorated, but not overburdened. He's lying down fully, protruded snout snuffling with a snot bubble growing and shrinking from a nostril: an idled engine. There's a cane-like object propped up against his side, but he doesn't seem to mind. Little blue flowers are carefully entwined in his fur, curling a little constellation map around the side of his face.

"Don't worry," (pat pat.) "Razra's not gonna be as fast as the tomas, but he's a steadier ride for it."

[amoirsetpacis]

★ --;; There are a great many people Vash owes apologies to. More than apologies, if it were possible. The guilt eats at him from the inside out; first for everything that happened, and then for being too much of a coward to reach out to anyone to try and make things right again. Even showing his face around them feels wrong, like he shouldn't be anywhere near them; it was their closeness to him that had caused so much bloodshed, after all.

But he's got to, somehow. By now they all doubtless know that everyone was physically okay again, so any excuse for lengthening his silence will probably just serve to make things worse in the long run.

So he starts the first of many apologies innocuously enough. It takes a few tries to do so, both because even a simple invitation feels so damn difficult to piece together when getting his own self out of the house still proved to be a bit of a challenge, and because he can't stop replaying the bright red splatter he'd been forced to watch stain the concrete.

Seems like all he's good at is hurting others, most of the time- even if the other person is still himself, in a way. Wrapping all of these other versions of themselves up in his problems makes that horrible feeling in his chest continue to ache, because of course he couldn't keep it all confined to himself. Of course he couldn't.

But the island and all its intricacies are an aid that wouldn't otherwise be there, despite the fact that none of this would have happened without them in the first place, and upon catching a glimpse of information about one of the current attractions littered throughout the city Vash finds the perfect helping hand.

[ text. ] hey! :) [ text. ] I'd like to show you something [ text. ] if you want [ text. ] meet me here? tonight? around 8? [ text. ] [ location pin ]

@merynger

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300 second batch icons of Meryl Stryfe from Trigun Stampede for @merynger

More commission info here! ($8/100 icons)

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The sudden feeling of her words against him is grounding both in sentiment and sensation. Vash hugs back. Trying to return the favor, he softly returns: "It's okay. I'm here, Meryl, I'm here, 's alright…

"…No way for you to've known," he agrees eventually. "And yeah, Vash n'the other Wolfwood, I owe 'em—" (he catches himself) "—Sorry. I'm… Grateful, for everything they did for me."

It's an explanation, although it didn't undo the hurt that Meryl endured over the apparent lack of care for her. Hopefully it would still provide her some peace of mind. Right now, they were together, holding tight and shedding tears after something so painful and impossible. Vash sighs slowly into her hair, arms tightening in response; he's clearly comforted by their closeness. His turn to mumble tiredly.

"You're so good t'me, Meryl. I don't wanna make you feel alone like that ever again."

➥ Meryl's still holding his face, small hands along his jaw and cheeks, so she tries not to let her expression drop too much, even as what he's saying gets worse and worse. The worry's still plain across her face, though, and not without a small helping of guilt.

Of course it had been bad, for him. It wasn't that she thought it hadn't been, but she'd mistakenly connected her own memories of Julai with seeing him safely here. She doesn't actually have any idea what effect Julai had on him, at home — she doesn't know if there's a Vash left at home. She swallows that thought, focuses on him here.

"I didn't know," she says quietly. "I'm glad you were with the other two. Were they able to help?"

Before he can even answer, she can't help herself, and buries her face against his shoulder in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles.

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200 icons of Meryl Stryfe from Trigun Stampede for @merynger

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Before & after under the cut!

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Vash's face, caught and framed, continues to wear a troubled expression; the desperado doesn't seem entirely convinced he has the right to let go of this portion of his guilt. But Meryl was even harder to leave behind.

"You're right; giving up won't make it stop." Even said, it was difficult to accept—he's much more used to letting his fears get in the way.

After that, Vash lapses into a bout of contemplative silence, his face clearly reflecting the internal struggle of how their feelings clashed. What did Meryl see in him that was worth that, worth risking her life, even after she'd already paid the ultimate price before?

"You know, Meryl, I… I wanted to see you, too. After that day." He's worried it might be hard to believe, but he had to say it. "But everything hit me, all at once, and I couldn't—I could hardly move, o-or talk, first few days following. It was bad. I think."

Vash swallows, tries out a nervous under-the-breath heh. Of course no one knew how things were for him besides his temporary caretakers. How would Meryl know?

"Feels like someone else was doing all that screamin' n'cryin'. Hardly, um, let Vash n'the other Wolfwood sleep at night. They had work still, they were always so tired." A wave of vertigo hits Vash; he'd sway if he weren't being held. "Had to make 'em hide my gun."

➥ "I don't think I'm fragile," she corrects tiredly, leaning into the hug. "I just don't like being treated like I am by everybody. I would've been okay, I think, except for that."

As strange and scary as it had been, the avoidance was infinitely worse. And Meryl knows she's brave. Her favorite hobby's practically throwing herself into trouble to help people, and she isn't nearly humble enough to act like it isn't. She would've done it again, a million times over, not because she wanted to die but just because she couldn't stop herself. That's not a reminder she needs.

Meryl grumbles, again, at his last words, frustrated in spite of herself. "I don't need to be kept safe from you! I —" She huffs a breath out and resists the urge to elbow him in the ribs and then burrow in deeper. "I know you don't want to hurt me. I don't want you to hurt me, either. But I don't believe that things like this are something — intrinsic about you!"

She twists around, finally, grabs at his face with both hands and a determined expression. "I can't promise not to try and help you when things like this happen," she says, looking him in the eyes as much as she can, her own still red-rimmed. "And I don't want you to feel guilty, like I'm throwing my life away and now it's on your conscience. I'm not. I don't want to get hurt. But it's going to hurt so much more if we end up avoiding each other forever."

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Vash's thumb rubs against Meryl's arm, worried eyes trying to get a better look at her face. Once her voice wavers, though, he pulls her back in again. The guilt strikes again at his heart, something that would bring him to his knees easily, if they both weren't already down in the grass together.

While she continues to share her feelings, Vash adjusts their embrace so that there's more contact and pressure; his hand moves in circles against her shoulderblade. He squeezes tighter just for a moment, trying to physically convince her that he didn't agree with the notion she'd been reduced to a ghost. Isolating himself hadn't really helped with that, huh?

"Sorry, but… I'm not so sure it's something you're lackin', Meryl," he says eventually, brows knit tight. A shake of the head, twice. "'Fragile' doesn't come to mind when I think of you, not when I know what you've had to take on. That you keep lookin' right at what your choices might cost you, n'still follow, still stay. No part of that's weakness."

It just so happens that Meryl's also up against more than a century's worth of defense mechanisms, from a friend who has happened to wipe out the population of a metropolis and a half.

"It took a while for me to quit being a ghost, myself." It was if the Abyss had taken hold of his body, falling into Point Zero. The walking, dazed husk that Meryl had reunited with down there had hardly been Vash. "But I don't think anyone really knows what to do after being brought back."

Or what to do after someone else has been brought back, for that matter. Vash had never wanted to add Meryl's name to the growing list of every loved one brought back from the dead, traumatized from the event of their own death, and hurt further by his avoidance.

"I wanna keep you safe from me, but I wanna stay close t'you, too. Hard to reconcile that."

No easy answers. No promises. It isn't as though Vash delights in pushing anyone away, but what sort of solution was there? The pacifist bites at his lip, having to come to terms with a bitter conclusion: he's the one who's lacking whatever it took to find it.

➥ Meryl stays tucked up against him even as Vash starts to straighten up, unwilling and unable to pull away too much even though he does sound a little better. The presence is a comfort with how rattled she feels, now, trying to take stock of his question. Is she alright?

"I'll be okay," she says, voice still wavering. "I —"

It's been busy since the incident, trying to put herself back into normalcy as much as she can. But even then so many people around her had been worried about her, leaving her feeling a little too breakable — Roberto, and the other Vash, and even Wolfwood, a little, checking up on her at the café.

"So many people saw me, when it happened," she says, and hopes she doesn't have to say it in plainer terms. "And then it was kind of like I was a ghost to everyone."

Her fingers twist around each other nervously, struggling, for once, to put a thought into words.

"I know I'm not as strong as the rest of you, but I don't want to be — fragile."

Please don't push me away, she means. I can't run away anymore.

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The tears don't overstay their welcome; soon enough, Vash's latest crying fit comes to an end. It's different from when he was being sheltered by his counterpart and his boyfriend; there, the grief had run through his body like a current, uncontrollable and all-consuming. By now he'd learned how to contain the force of it, to have enough sense to lift his head away before anything gross could drip onto Meryl from his face.

Briefly he moves his wrist to swipe at his face and adjust his glasses. The cathartic effect of crying out anguish while holding onto a friend doing the same… It brings a tired feeling to his body, but not in an unpleasant way.

"Phew," he breathes, then exhales a shaky laugh as he gently pulls away a little. Arms pull back to support Meryl's, showing his want to give some thought to her comfort. "…Feel all sortsa messed up. But—lots better right now. You holding up alright, Meryl…?"

➥ Meryl curls into the hug as best as she can, leaning sideways against Vash to wrap her arms around him in return and hugging tight. She's still quietly crying herself, even as she also hears him start to weep, and her arms tighten as much as she can. One arm tucks into the coat to make herself closer without the soft barricade in the way.

"It's okay," she mumbles, for both of them.

In the Abyss, he'd been unable to speak and she'd been too death-exhausted to process anything other than sheer relief that he was alright. It's better to have the walls come down now; she feels absurdly relieved that they have come down, that she's been let in enough that he'll stop pretending that everything's okay. And it gives her space to not feel okay, too, because fuck, it was scary. She focuses on the now: the sound of his breaths, even hitched, above her; the feeling of his coat and shirt; the warmth of another person in the grass.

Eventually their positions will start to get uncomfortable; Meryl's too small to fully reach around him without her arms straining a little. But she thinks, absurdly, that she'd stay like this for as long as he'd like, if he was willing to do the asking — here in the hug and here in Ship 3, if he asked again. (There's a realization beginning to worm its way up into her heart — going mostly unnoticed for now.)

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It's too difficult to think of what to say; still, Vash feels so much for her. There's so many feelings that bloom and ache from what she has to say to him, an intense ambush of emotion. His efforts in finding the right words are shattered and left behind with her last admission, forearm peeling off from its defensive pose across his midriff to hold Meryl closer to himself, arms hugging her sideways.

It's at once acceptance without hesitation - and apologetic understanding. Yes, yes, that's right, they made each other okay. Even if Vash isn't sure he'd ever want to forgive himself for doing something so horrible to her, for causing all that fear and hurt and death, how she felt couldn't be held in doubt. Meryl really would come back, always; he can believe her, in her vow to return.

Hardly anyone's built to last, not the way that he is. It was a painfully lonely truth the Plant would have to bear indefinitely, believing he would outlast everyone he'd ever come to love.

But even Rem had thanked him for keeping her and her dreams alive in her heart, after more than a century.

The other Wolfwood and Knives were here in the now to meet him, to support them in the ways that they knew how. His predecessor, worn and clearly beyond the end of his story, still had so much more love left in him. Even when Meryl has to leave, she'd still be with me. This moment was proof of it.

Eyes screwed shut against the hurt, the Plant hopes desperately that this contact is anything close to conveying what he can't express in words. Chest pressed against her shoulder, face tilted down to press against her head, it's all so similar to the last time they'd held the other in the Abyss. Vash weeps.

Then and now, his broken heart thuds in his chest so eagerly against her: (hello, Meryl! I'm here, I'm here, I'm here, you're here, we're okay, see, we can be this close without hurting one another).

➥ Meryl continues to run her hands through the grass, quietly trying to calm herself a little bit with the texture — a task made harder when she can hear the tears in Vash's voice too, wanting instinctively to comfort before she has a chance to listen. She almost startles at the idea that she's saved him more than he's helped her, and finally turns to look at him when his voice cracks, unable to bear it even as she still sniffles herself.

"It wasn't your fault," she says again, voice crumbling equally. "It wasn't. You keep me safe so much," — Jeneora Rock, and Julai, and even here, with his warnings about the ghosts — "and I just got in the way —"

She stops, takes a deep breath, unsure of what to do with her own weird guilt in this situation. "I just — please don't leave me alone because you think it's what you deserve. We make each other okay. Right?" she says. "I'm always going to want to come back for you."

The admission is almost too much, a flush building under her skin at the words, but she powers through it to scoot closer to him and tuck herself against his side if he'll let her. A physical reminder that he can't get rid of her even if he wants to — unless he really wants to, and Meryl doesn't know what she'd do if that happened.

"It was really scary," she admits softly. "I'm so sorry the Stars made you do that."

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There's no hiding the light amusement in his face from that, even with sympathy twinkling in his eyes; had Meryl been pecked by one before?

"Mm! There's a more popular critter folks ride around here, buuut I like these guys a little more. They're 'boars', tame n'calm. Stubby little tusks near the mouth're for diggin' things up; they're pretty hungry, but they'll only eat plants, so nothin' to sweat over!"

With Meryl eased up into the back saddle, and after Vash has double-checked the security of every bag and strap attached, he nods and slips fluidly back up to the driver's seat. There, he unhooks the cane-like object from a leather strap and aims it away from the both of them. Canvas blooms from it all at once, taking up a rigid form with a satisfying sound. His glove hand slips the umbrella handle into Meryl's hand, tilting the pole such that she could easily rest it against her shoulder. Other hand grasping the reins, he winks at her.

"Unlucky there isn't air conditioning on this ride either, huh?"

Razra stirs awake and up, initial pace through the sand sluggish, as though to indicate he's still in a half-awake daze. Vash's use of the reins seem practiced—he's had plenty of experience taming and directing many of the tomas in his life, after all—without being overly strict with the animal.

The distance between the mouth of the canyon back to Home isn't terribly long; Vash is certain Meryl's observational skills will pick up on that, and hopefully add to feelings of assurance if anything. The Plant is sure to guide Razra in a way that leaves patches of flora along the way undisturbed, rattling on about the local wildlife to entertain his friend.

Once they arrive, Vash gets the beast to slow and sink down nearby the entry ramp of Home, where he leaps off to help Meryl back onto the ground. As the doors open, he gives her shoulder a friendly, light nudge.

"Go on and head in—there's a sorta pen out back I've gotta corral Razra into. Won't be long, but feel free to explore!"

➥ It's been a long journey through the canyon leading into the Land of Burnt Umber, and Meryl's infinitely grateful to see it open up into the desert proper. She'd managed to get a ride from a caravan — despite the price charged for it — so while long, it's been a peaceful journey making small talk with the other travelers and enjoying the sunshine.

Her first impression of Umber is that it's lush, but that isn't really true. She's seen true greenery now, in the geodome and in Spirale, but it's still a surprise to see the desert environment she's so familiar with dotted with, albeit few, plants and flowers and signs of life. It's almost the perfect mixture of what she loves about Spirale but misses from home: not nearly as hot as Noman's Land, but familiar in every other way.

The familiarity's enhanced by Vash, sticking out like a sore thumb as usual in his coat from where he stands next to the wall with a very, very large furred (?) animal. Relief bubbles up at the sight. She hasn't seen him since the diner, which mostly just felt like a strange dream at this point, and after the text messages it's a joy just to see that he seems okay. "I made it!" she confirms, grinning. "It's a bit of a trek out here, Vash!"

(Meryl's going to have to get a car or something, if she wants to keep visiting — and she does, she can't stand the thought of him all alone out here, even if she can't stay. Maybe the Stars will give her her car back...?)

She crouches to make hesitant eye contact with Razra, who is entirely unbothered by her presence and snuffles once as he continues to rest. "Not a big fan of tomas, so maybe that's a good thing...?"

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Vash blinks rapidly, surprised, curling his forearm around his stomach to ground himself. He fights his own welling tears as his friend rightfully asserts herself, quick to catch onto her distress as much as it catches onto him.

Even though he's killed her, it wasn't his fault? Meryl wanted to stand by her decision to stay, even though it resulted in her death? She's… Sounding a hell of a lot like the other Wolfwood, like Knives, like the other Vash, and like Rem. All of them were so adamant, in owning whatever decision that led to their own death. It scares him. He's been a horrible influence when it comes to self-preservation, hasn't he?

"You've always stuck around for me," he starts slow, attempting to keep his voice steady through his own tears. There needs to be an acknowledgement and appreciation for what Meryl's done, before all else. "You always came back for me, decided to be with me, no matter how scary and hopeless things got. In Archimedes, JuLai, and before that, too. You saved me. But I couldn't do the same.

"I'm—I'm so, so sorry I killed you, Meryl." Vash swallows, even if it doesn't help how dry his mouth is. It sounds like a belated echo of what he'd said that day, over and over, without her being able to hear it. "And yeah, you know that I don't… That I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't wanna hurt anyone."

There's a pause to gather himself, hearing his voice crack on the words. He's not sure how much more composure he has left, but even that unease is heavy with shame in itself; it's Meryl's feelings he wants to give overdue attention to.

"But, something like that, killing you, I-I thought that'd be it, something that would put an end to that. To … Wanting to come back for me? I don't know. "It's what's happened to everyone around me, and I can't protect anyone from that. So that's why I thought…"

How cowardly it was of him to beat around the bush until now. Of course something like that would hurt her. Vash's hand clutches at his side, and he gnaws on his lip.

➥ Meryl wasn't planning on getting ticked off, but somehow the sadness and worry twists around into frustration at Vash's idea of needing to deserve his emotional state, like it's something he can't just experience on his own, without guilt for how he's feeling, and then twists again at his question.

Yeah, maybe he's feeling guilty that she died because of him. Fair enough. But also she's the one who did the dying, so.

"What kind of question is that," she snaps, tears prickling at her eyes. "Don't — why are you asking like you want me to say no?"

She swipes a hand across her face but the tears keep coming, frustrated at herself for crying and for being upset at his understandable anxieties and frustrated at Vash for the question at all.

"You can't decide for me that I don't want you around just because you think it's what you deserve, that people still can't care for you because something bad happened. Don't — you can't use what happened like that, okay? That's not fair." She's rambling and out of breath and snotty at this point, desperate to make her point. "It's not unfair to me to be upset at what the Stars did. It wasn't your fault. It sucked; I didn't like dying, but I chose to stay. Don't take that away from me."

She wipes her face off again, the other hand tightening in the grass. "I still feel safe around you," she mutters, staring at her knees. "It's you. I might get scared, but I know you."

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You're very far away now - the words alone catch against Vash's mind like they were thorned. Wasn't distance from him a good thing? Wouldn't that have kept everyone safe? Was he wrong for trying to keep himself away? He doesn't have long to brood over the words before Meryl tries to nudge against the way he's unintentionally walled himself off to her. She's right.

"Aah, well. Maybe I'm not fine, then," he says, trying to soften the admission with light breath and a smile. It also doesn't last. "Don't think I really get to feel fine either, though. Hardly fair to.

"…To you."

He swallows, hard, closing his eyes.

"To everyone."

It feels like he's under that gravity again from that day, pressing his weak, pained body against the ground and forcing him to crawl into that pitch-black pit. Vash doesn't do anything to rid the sensation; it'd be more than just to relive every waking moment of that for the rest of his life.

"Do you feel safe around me, Meryl…? … I, um, I wouldn't be mad if you don't."

He'd been hoping her acceptance to talk, her willingness to lie in the grass beside him said as much. But that hope felt so fragile and unsure in itself. Everything he's tried to say or do has felt like the wrong move.

➥ Oh, so this is how it's going to go.

For a second Meryl thinks he might be honest, even after his instinctive reaction of saying he's fine, but it gets swept away by the casual brushing-off as he turns the question back around on her, making her heart sink. Of course she's happy to be there too, but —

"I —" I was worried about you. I wanted to see that you're alright. The last time I saw you we were dead and then you disappeared for weeks and then asked me to move in. I'm sorry I said no.

She fumbles, and quiets. Meryl couldn't keep up his act even if she tried. She knows that everything isn't really alright, and she knows that he knows it too, and she just wants him to be able to be honest with her. Selfishly, too, she wants to be able to talk about the fact that she died — strangely adrift at the dancing-around of it, the avoidance of a problem sitting right next to him.

"You're very far away now," she says, lightly but unable to match his faux-cheer, and doesn't really know if she's talking about the physical distance. There's a bird hopping around in the branches of one of the geodome's trees; she tracks its movement. "I haven't seen you in a while — it's really quiet out here."

And then, just as lightly but half a plea: "You don't have to be fine."

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Meryl's so cute! The happy little hum Vash makes in enjoyment of her startled reaction to the tiny bird isn't one made out of mockery, but fondness. So clever as always, too, with her deductive prowess. Distracted with his warm feelings about the reporter, the pacifist doesn't even immediately register he's being dragged further along!

Once he's pulled literally back down to earth, though, the contagious sense of nervousness catches onto him. Vash blinks, lifting his head just for a moment to straighten his glasses.

"Oh! I'm fine—I'm doing fine, I… Ah." The answer is quick - too quick; it even catches his attention. There's a pause as Vash clearly tries to take a moment of introspection, but he finds himself struggling. He hadn't been prepared for such a simple question.

"…Dunno, heh. "Things were intense, and then suddenly they got all quiet? But, I'm…! Happy, really happy that you came over, Meryl. Feels like we haven't really had a chance together. What's on your mind?"

➥ The hummingbird catches her by surprise — they're fast enough that Meryl's not noticed them in Spirale, either, so the speedy hum of the little bird zipping by startles her, hands flailing upwards as she tries to catch sight of it. She instead spots the broken glass in the geodome and puts the pieces together quickly.

Frankly, out of all the shit she remembers from home, the memory of being kidnapped is apparently low on the list of emotional priorities. "I don't want to think about how many worms had to carry us out of there," she mutters, looking at how high off the ground the hole is.

She snags Vash's wrist — taking comfort in the brief feel of his pulse under her fingers — to drag him further into the geodome with her, heading for one of the grassy areas surrounded by the flowers. She's strangely nervous all of a sudden, antsy at whatever conversation they're about to have. There's so much she wants to say, and no idea of how to say it. She tugs him down into the grass with her, dropping his wrist but keeping her fingers curled in the grass.

"How're you doing?"

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Vash walks up at an easy pace, coming to a stop beside Meryl. He takes a deep breath, bracing a hand against the doorframe, before looking over at his friend.

It's a lovely sight; one that brings a fondness, warm and mending, to his heart. The look on her face, to be here again—well, there's no helping the smile that blooms across his face. The joy is contagious.

There's an encouraging tilt of his head to assure Meryl forward, but with a patient demeanor to it; if she needed another few moments to take it all in, he'd be delighted to share that with her.

She was the geodome's favorite guest of honor, after all.

The place looks just about the same as it had in Noman's Land, with its now lone caretaker doing his best to preserve the way that things were, for now. There's a metal shed nearby the entrance, a stone path inward lined by strikingly blue flora.

The glass is largely intact, except for the high-up spot that the Bernadelli reporters had been abducted through. Occasionally, wisps of sand would get through, but Vash didn't deem it an urgent repair. The screen projections (offline at the moment) still worked, and it's a bit too high up for most critters to wander in.

…Which, of course, meant that some winged creatures had inevitably slipped in, and treated themselves to what this hidden oasis could offer. There's a tiny flash of purple nearby the blue flora trail, fluttering and zipping around. It's lunchtime for this one.

Besides the hummingbird, there are other birdsongs being sung around the geodome, now; hidden in tree or shrub. The life in here isn't so quiet anymore.

➥ (She's never been pecked — nothing so undignified as that. No, they're just too high off the ground and too fast for her liking. Sure, the car goes fast — but she's the one driving.)

Meryl gently scritches Razra's side as Vash introduces the concept of boars to her, humming in acknowledgement and smiling a "thank-you" when he hands her the umbrella. "It's alright," she says happily. "It's still way cooler out than Noman's Land would be."

She's really enjoying this whole "passenger seat" thing. She's positively spoiled, back here.

The sight of Home is another familiarity from home; she grins at the sight of it — even if it's not as shrouded in sand as it had been when she'd first seen it. She lets Vash help her off and nods, watching for a second as he leads a slow-moving Razra away, before heading up the ramp and inside.

It's identical to how she remembers, and she wanders the hallway lost in memory. Their arrival in the sandstorm at home hadn't been the most pleasant experience, Vash still unconscious and herself sick with worry. She heads off toward the geodome — the one room she really visited and remembers how to get to. The door slides open with a hissing sound at her approach, and she lingers in the doorway, taking in the greenery once again.