[Waking up in Ruby City is always one of two things; Miraculous(for the sake of actually surviving the night), or terrifying(because things have changed, yet again.). Today, apparently, it is a case of the latter.
Sitting up from a bed of leaves upon which she most certainly does not remember lying down when she went to sleep, 202 glances around
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Which is why the last thing on his mind is his lover's ability to shift. He's never seen the real thing in full, after all-- if he had had time to think, time to process, the end result may have been different. But as it is, Vash is in survival mode. When he sees a large and snarling wolf-creature he acts on instinct and pulls the trigger; maybe some part of his subconscious realizes what is really going on because the shot hits her shoulder rather than the heart he was aiming at.]
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As she turns she catches a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and lashes out automatically at her attacker. One immense, cruelly-clawed handpaw impacts Vash with a force not unlike what it must feel like to be hit by a car, throwing him a few feet into the nearest tree before 202 even realizes who it is that she's retaliating against.]
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Struggling to his hands and knees, Vash reaches for his gun only to realize its been knocked to the other side of the clearing.]
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Those leaves might have just saved your life, Vash.
The beast freezes halfway through lifting her prey into the air as her mind slowly registers, with no small amount of horror, what it is that she's doing.]
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Dropping quickly into a crouch with her splayed paws in place beneath him to cushion the landing, 202 lays Vash down as gently as possible and very, very carefully releases him. Please, please, Vash, you've got to be all right. The thought of what she did--and worse, what she almost did... She'll never forgive herself.]
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...'02?
[...Oh, God. What has he done? Vash turns to spit out a mouthful of blood as he presses a hand against his side to try and stem the worst of the bleeding, breathing raggedly.]
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...'02. 'M sorry... didn't-- didn't know...
[God in Heaven, forgive him. He-- he shot his 202. That's it. No flowery language, no cliche thoughts, just... his. His 202... and he shot her...]
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Don't... Don't apologize, Vash, please. Don't talk, your... [Oh, no. Oh, 202, you monster.] I... I think I might have punctured your lung...
[She doesn't understand this sudden tightness in her throat that made those last words so hard to say, nor why her vision suddenly seems so blurry--Beyond her unspeakable shame, none of her thoughts are for herself, not even when she notices how much of her own blood is running down to add to the stains on her...On Vash's shirt.]
Please, just... Just stay still...
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...Not punctured. You... It's not punctured.
[His hand falls from her cheek to hover just above her shoulder where blood is flowing far too freely. Even when he closes his eyes, it's still there-- a gaping wound that he gave her. And now she's blaming herself when he was the first to strike; he should have checked, should have thought... Tears are brimming in his eyes too, though he doesn't realize it at first.]
'02... Not your fault. Don't... please don't...
[Vash, you moron, you're just a little scratched, she took a bullet! Despite her plea he struggles to sit up, pulling off his shirt and balling it up to press against her shoulder. Still a little dizzy he accomplishes this mostly by falling to rest against her, holding the cloth more in place by virtue of gravity rather than physical strength. Gritting his teeth, Vash rests his head on 202's uninjured shoulder, trembling ever ( ... )
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Please stop moving, Vash... I'll heal, you know I will. I barely even notice it now.
[Which is a blatant lie, of course--Hard to miss the pain radiating off of that wound now that she's torn it so violently, after all--but concern for the man she loves outweighs it a hundredfold. Gently taking the shirt from her shoulder she tears strips from its waist, balling them into pads to hold over Vash's wounds until the blood keeps them in place of their own accord. Trying to ignore what it means that they're still bleeding that freely, she swallows hard and tries just to focus on the ( ... )
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[He nuzzles into her hair, holding her as close as he can given their respective wounds.]
I promise... I'll hold still... if you promise to do the same... and stop blaming yourself for... what you couldn't control.
[Like a hypocrite, however, he's going to keep blaming himself for what he can. He shot his 202... he's never going to touch a gun again. The scary thing? He means it almost entirely. And he's going to claim that the tears rolling down his cheeks are due to shock, should anyone ask.]
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[Humor helps, right? 202 attempts a smile as she leans back to look Vash in the eye, then leans her forehead gently against his. So much for holding still.]
We've both put our bodies through worse than this, more than once. Live and learn, right?
[That's the trick; She's got to focus on the facts of the situation, not the emotions of it. As if that's even remotely possible.]
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202. My 202. If you can forgive me... the least I can do is try to forgive myself... and promise you, on my honor, that I will never hurt you again.
[He takes a deep breath, relieved to find that it's already a little easier.]
...Okay. So. We're in a jungle. That is-- is not normal.
[Change the subject, don't think about the blood, don't think about-- wait, she's naked. Does that really matter? What about-- no, mind on things more important, like survival and not bleeding to death. Priorities, Vash, priorities...]
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[Because that's all it takes in 202's mind, apparently, to dismiss the tattered new hole in her shoulder; He didn't mean to hurt her, and that's what matters. That and the increased ease of his breathing, which in turn eases hers as well. If he's okay, then she's okay. When he makes such a deliberate effort to change the subject she glances around at the scenery and gives a quick businesslike nod by way of reply.]
Mm... I can't tell if it's another change of the city or if we have in fact been relocated. The communicators are useless, I've ascertained that much--Or at least, mine is. Not that I suppose it matters now.
[Not now that she's found him, that is.]
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