[As the notes play out, Vash will notice that they aren’t simply just his. Another moves right alongside it, quiet, at ease, with no malice, but rather a curiosity to try and understand. The notes are old, a reverberation of something ancient and wise, and very not human.
A part of the Primal, after all, resides in Garrett’s eye.
The tune leans itself into a story of sorts, a tale of a sentient city. The City. Garrett’s home. While it doesn’t provide images, Vash would be able to see the struggle, the lives lived, the harshness of the world. How there was hope and brightness even in the dark, festivities and light even then.
And then, the Gloom. Death. Mindless agony. Hope snuffed out for many.
There is no sorrow, no struggle now. The Primal gives another soft tone, one that indicates the friends and those who help the master thief. How the city itself rests upon the bones of the old, how things change and shift, how it always knows this. Understands in non-human ways.
And underneath all of that, lies the tone of gratefulness, of thankfulness without any words. It knows Garrett isn’t home, and that’s fine. This one, the one who calls himself Vash, is someone the thief needs. Kindness and thoughtfulness without being forced to change who he is. It’s a concept that would end up getting someone killed, and the Primal knows it. So it offers a tone of thanks in the only way it can, Garrett all the while completely oblivious at this entire interaction.
As this happens, he pushes his hands towards the lit fingertips of his friend, fully expecting to go through them.
He doesn’t.
Garrett blinks in almost disbelief, feeling actual contact while he stays an incorporeal being with nothing to hold him to the earth save for his own stubbornness. He opens his mouth to say something, pauses, then sighs, shaking his head. He’s already resigned to his fate as it is. There’s no point in going anywhere now.]
no subject
A part of the Primal, after all, resides in Garrett’s eye.
The tune leans itself into a story of sorts, a tale of a sentient city. The City. Garrett’s home. While it doesn’t provide images, Vash would be able to see the struggle, the lives lived, the harshness of the world. How there was hope and brightness even in the dark, festivities and light even then.
And then, the Gloom. Death. Mindless agony. Hope snuffed out for many.
There is no sorrow, no struggle now. The Primal gives another soft tone, one that indicates the friends and those who help the master thief. How the city itself rests upon the bones of the old, how things change and shift, how it always knows this. Understands in non-human ways.
And underneath all of that, lies the tone of gratefulness, of thankfulness without any words. It knows Garrett isn’t home, and that’s fine. This one, the one who calls himself Vash, is someone the thief needs. Kindness and thoughtfulness without being forced to change who he is. It’s a concept that would end up getting someone killed, and the Primal knows it. So it offers a tone of thanks in the only way it can, Garrett all the while completely oblivious at this entire interaction.
As this happens, he pushes his hands towards the lit fingertips of his friend, fully expecting to go through them.
He doesn’t.
Garrett blinks in almost disbelief, feeling actual contact while he stays an incorporeal being with nothing to hold him to the earth save for his own stubbornness. He opens his mouth to say something, pauses, then sighs, shaking his head. He’s already resigned to his fate as it is. There’s no point in going anywhere now.]