#thr01: tornticket

[plantfell]

Knives doesn't often pay much mind to an Eclipse. The number of people he cares to wonder about the arrival of is small, and over the past year it's been increasingly obvious that it's small enough that it's not worth worrying about. If one of his arrives, they're free to make their choices. Still, it's good to be updated every so often.

It would be the time he checks, wouldn't it?

At first, he's able to approach the realization that he can text himself rationally. As far as he's been able to tell, there's been no word of another version of himself ever appearing, so it's likely to be that this Knives is in full possession of his abilities. He's also not aware of any record of two "copies" of the same person from the same universe co-existing. By this logic, it's likely the younger Vash's brother and therefore his problem.

Just to ease his own worries, Knives sends a text to the Stampede to make sure he's seen the updated list. The only problem is after several minutes and several more texts later he gets no response. It's only remembering the Hug and Tell dolls that he and Vash exchanged that Knives is able to stave off the worry for a little bit longer. Right up until he takes the doll and finds that the emotion Vash is feeling the most in the moment is scared.

In an instant, the doll is haphazardly discarded as Knives bolts for the nearest exit and takes flight in a flurry of feathers. It could be anything, he tries to reassure himself, but he's not hopeful and a stop by Home to find it empty does little to quell any of the growing panic churning in Knives' chest.

The next stop is the city proper, but by the time he gets there his wings have reached their limit and he's been forced to search on foot. It's frustrating and the first time in a while that his limits have posed any serious obstacle.

Knives is pulled from his own thoughts by a touch to his shoulder, and he turns to tell off whatever pedestrian dared to lay their hand on him. Just as quickly, he freezes with his mouth poised to hurl some biting remark as he lays eyes the who. It takes a moment to fully comprehend the fact that his quarry managed to find him first, but when he does his jaw tightens and he stands straighter. Not quite a show of dominance, Knives knows how well that would be received, but a show that yes, they are the same, and yes he is just as dangerous.

"Knives," He greets tersely, finding addressing someone else with the name odd on his tongue. Has it felt this way for his brother all this time? "I would appreciate if you didn't sully my clothes," Knives continues, gingerly plucking the hand off his shoulder. Though, red now stains the pure white of his hoodie regardless of the intervention.

"Yours or someone else's?"

@plantfell

Unlike how his brother had fared, Knives is quick to recognize his second encounter of the day. And what a fateful one it seems to be.

Transmuted from steel to fabric, the hood of his coat slowly shifts its attention toward this strange new counterpart. His eyes are careful to assess the other, and ultimately rest upon the pitch-blackness of his hair, the back of his head.

He's calm in his approach to this new self, making no attempt to disguise his footfall.

The hand he then tries to place onto the other's shoulder is still stained with fresh blood. His other hand is occupied with a kitchen knife, taken from his assigned living quarters.