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trigun_fics
A ficlet. Small, but it's what came out of my brain tonight.
jaina, I swear I sat down to write Vash/Meryl for you. Maybe next time?
Sountrack to the ficlet: "Boom Boom Ba" by Metisse (from the Dead Like Me soundtrack)
Spoilers: set post episode 23, possibly post-series
Memoria
Sometimes Meryl dreamed of Wolfwood. She dreamed of his laughter, and his 3 o'clock shadow, and his obnoxious miniature confessional. She dreamed of the way he gazed at Milly when Milly wasn't looking (and sometimes when she was), the way he coached a smile out of Vash, the way he made hardships seem easier somehow.
Of course, there'd been moments when she'd hated him--stupid, irrational reaction to some tiny grievence. But it wasn't stupid or small, because he was stealing her best friend with his smiles and he was stealing Vash with his secrets.
They're not mine, she would tell herself. Milly is her own woman and the very idea that someone could own Vash the Stampede... it was stupid and she knew it. And when she wasn't busy worrying about where they'd find shelter that night or how they'd pay for the next bus across the desert, Meryl quite enjoyed spending time with Nicholas D. Wolfwood. He was clever, he was funny, and he was a cynic after her own soul. Truly she couldn't hate him-- for there were also moments when he laughed, and Meryl loved him for it. It was a good laugh, a laugh made for fathers and uncles and lovers. As a woman Meryl admired that laugh, and as a friend she appreciated it.
She wondered if it was bizarre that these were the things she remembered about him. Here lies Nicholas, who was a killer and a traitor, but who also drank whiskey and laughed like a king and loved children and loved Milly Thompson.
Here lies Nicholas, her friend.
trigun_ficsA ficlet. Small, but it's what came out of my brain tonight.
jaina, I swear I sat down to write Vash/Meryl for you. Maybe next time?Sountrack to the ficlet: "Boom Boom Ba" by Metisse (from the Dead Like Me soundtrack)
Spoilers: set post episode 23, possibly post-series
Memoria
Sometimes Meryl dreamed of Wolfwood. She dreamed of his laughter, and his 3 o'clock shadow, and his obnoxious miniature confessional. She dreamed of the way he gazed at Milly when Milly wasn't looking (and sometimes when she was), the way he coached a smile out of Vash, the way he made hardships seem easier somehow.
Of course, there'd been moments when she'd hated him--stupid, irrational reaction to some tiny grievence. But it wasn't stupid or small, because he was stealing her best friend with his smiles and he was stealing Vash with his secrets.
They're not mine, she would tell herself. Milly is her own woman and the very idea that someone could own Vash the Stampede... it was stupid and she knew it. And when she wasn't busy worrying about where they'd find shelter that night or how they'd pay for the next bus across the desert, Meryl quite enjoyed spending time with Nicholas D. Wolfwood. He was clever, he was funny, and he was a cynic after her own soul. Truly she couldn't hate him-- for there were also moments when he laughed, and Meryl loved him for it. It was a good laugh, a laugh made for fathers and uncles and lovers. As a woman Meryl admired that laugh, and as a friend she appreciated it.
She wondered if it was bizarre that these were the things she remembered about him. Here lies Nicholas, who was a killer and a traitor, but who also drank whiskey and laughed like a king and loved children and loved Milly Thompson.
Here lies Nicholas, her friend.
