4. Lesson

 

“I fixed you…”

 

His first instinct was to resist. Self-preservation is, after all, the deepest law of the living.

 

It broke like the tide might, if there was such a thing in that waterless world. An overpowering mass of noise, howling voices – it was like vicious, inscrutable bugs picking over his skin. Biting, crawling inside of every orifice, lapping away at his sanity with fevered mouths. Babel of flies.

 

If he’d been able to think, he might have hoped he was going to die.

 

But suddenly as it had come, the sensation abated.

 

“…And I can break you,” He finished.

 

 

5. A Simple Question

 

Those eyes – oh so familiar – narrowed in growing mistrust. So, he wasn’t completely stupid.

 

what do you want from me?

 

Or, perhaps he was. Such a simple question, yet so difficult to answer.

 

Legato took his time, relishing the open waves of emotion rolling off Vash’s mind. The errant brother was confused, disoriented by this situation; he was slightly afraid, a flaw that the darkly smiling man took note of. He would decide how to exploit that later.

 

But for now, he would tell the exact truth, shivering silently at the irony of such an honest, perfect statement:

 

your life.

 

 

6. Faith

 

“Do you believe in God, Nick?”

 

The priest frowned and took a deep drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke settle in his chest. “What kind’a hell idiot question is that? What do you think, hair-for-brains?”

 

Vash shrugged.

 

Wolfwood sighed, stubbing out the butt directly on the windowsill. Fickle electric lamps battled with the moonlight and won; the smell of cheap tobacco and dusty sweat hung in the room like a shroud. Both men were tired enough to die, weighed down with the sufferings that come with faking joy.

 

“A kindly God?”

 

A nod for yes.

 

“No, Vash. Not anymore.”