|The Thought Process of A 152 Year Old Man
Author: Neversaid-I-Madesense PM
A series of shorts, most of which delve into the mind of an elderly, youthful man, whom we are all familiar with.Rated: Fiction T - English - Western - Vash & Meryl - Chapters: 6 - Words: 4,203 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 10 - Updated: 08-13-12 - Published: 04-30-12 - id: 8072818
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
How many people...
Don't think about it.
Every once in awhile, despite having lived 150+ years, there were still people who did anything from big to small that absolutely amazed him. There were still the needlepoint-tongued jokesters at the nicer diners that could split his sides into stitches, and let the fact that he could shoot people with his literal left arm alone slip from his mind. There were the kids, new faces every generation, but with the exact same ideas in their young heads (just have fun!) to playwrestle with, the single mothers whose hearts were easy to win over if he could get their childrens' eyes shining for him. Vash had lost count of how many towns inwhich he had become known as the 'resident babysitter,' the one guy who could always be counted on to lend a hand for difficult labor.
July wasn't a bad place, no, lost was not a word to describe its inhabitants DON'T THINK ABOU—
It was too bad that, eventually, he had to keep moving. Valdour wasn't the only city to practically hold a parade as he left, trailing his steps (especially the little ones, oh! He wished he could have his own...) and calling his name. The sandsteamer, looming overhead and making the children groan as much as swoon. Humpback-class, wasn't it?
There was one more thing that never changed with time... the cherishing of every old and new memory, face, or simple phrase. Names. Titles. Chapel. Amelia, Millie, Kni—don't—
He fiddles with a button on his coat, a thought occurs to him; How long have I been sitting here, again? It's not often he loses track of himself. He's been alive too long, that's all it is, and self-control was something perfected over time, after all.
So why did he cry every time some—
There's a lady standing next to him, he realizes it's Meryl. Merylmerylmeryl, pixie Derringer Meryl, and she's grinning at him with teeth like blinding white sunbeams, asking him, "Well, where's the next destination, Stampede?" As if he hadn't been motionless and idle like an idiot for who-knows-how-long.
And suddenly it became easier not to think about it.
A/N: Vash the Stampede is a very old, complex... and deeply traumatized individual. But he's so good at hiding it, you'll never tell. He's also quickly becoming my #1 favorite anime/manga character, ever.
Vash+Meryl/Millie+Wolfwood, forever. c:
OH SHIT, DON'T EVEN MENTION NICHOLAS, FUUU, I'M STILL SMARTING FROM HIS FATE.
Also Livio is a badass.
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