( at least it's just the two of them in the mushroom for now — he's not about to explain why they're rolling around on the ground, not only because it's no one's business but theirs, but. there really is no good explanation for it other than they're just plain caught up in being full stupid. check back later.
don't you dare finish that sentence for him, vash —
except of course he does, and as distracted ( and maybe just a little bit winded for having sent them tumbling ) as he is by his brother's weight straddling his hips, those words are enough to bring a stunted sort of snarl from the very back of his throat. matching his brother's tone vibration for vibration.
he knows he's serious, but he's not about to give up, even though he has long since realized his continued resistance is futile.
you have no idea how hard it is not to make a borg joke right now. damn everything.)
How would you feel? ( he asks very suddenly, through mostly-gritted teeth, like even this much is coming too close to agreeing with you're as good as human.) If you'd never had to eat, never had to sleep, and were told that such things made you arguably perfect? ( his followers, the plant worshippers, anyway … some of them would trip over themselves to tell master knives just how perfect he was.
it was sickening, sometimes, but. there was no denying that independents were supposed to be the embodiment of perfection. at least after all the conditioning he's been through, without seeing it as such. )
And then you wake up. And you hurt. And you're tired. And there had never been any reason to warn you against it, so you had no idea what to expect. But. ( he pauses, and he realizes that his hands have come to rest against vash's thighs of their own accord. ) It made you feel less like yourself than you've ever felt.
no subject
don't you dare finish that sentence for him, vash —
except of course he does, and as distracted ( and maybe just a little bit winded for having sent them tumbling ) as he is by his brother's weight straddling his hips, those words are enough to bring a stunted sort of snarl from the very back of his throat. matching his brother's tone vibration for vibration.
he knows he's serious, but he's not about to give up, even though he has long since realized his continued resistance is futile.
you have no idea how hard it is not to make a borg joke right now. damn everything.)How would you feel? ( he asks very suddenly, through mostly-gritted teeth, like even this much is coming too close to agreeing with you're as good as human. ) If you'd never had to eat, never had to sleep, and were told that such things made you arguably perfect? ( his followers, the plant worshippers, anyway … some of them would trip over themselves to tell master knives just how perfect he was.
it was sickening, sometimes, but. there was no denying that independents were supposed to be the embodiment of perfection. at least after all the conditioning he's been through, without seeing it as such. )
And then you wake up. And you hurt. And you're tired. And there had never been any reason to warn you against it, so you had no idea what to expect. But. ( he pauses, and he realizes that his hands have come to rest against vash's thighs of their own accord. ) It made you feel less like yourself than you've ever felt.