bridgescribble | It's that one where you have to give a speech to a crowd of bears and wasps again

You're having a nightmare, and you aren't alone. Someone is here with you in tonight's strange, dark dreamscape--for better or for worse.

Chased: Bears, tentacly monsters, giant vengeful wasps. You need to escape from it but you can't find a way.
Trapped: Elevator, sinking ship, cave. You're in and you can't get out.
Performance: It's often quoted that people fear public speaking more than they fear death. You don't know the script, you've never seen this Powerpoint, the teleprompter is blurry as hell... forget falling, you're about to die on stage.
Hated: You know those dreams where everyone you know accuses you of something terrible and they all hate you now? Yeah. It's that one tonight.
Disaster! You're on an island and a volcano erupts! You're next to a river and it floods! Never mind how geologically, climatologically, or physically likely it would be in this location in real life, it's happening now.
Haunting past: Your bad memories are just waiting for you to let your guard down, and what's more unguarded than sleep?
Wildcard: There are infinite nightmares in infinite combinations... why not put together your own?

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( finally caught up on trigun stampede and feeling 100% totally fine not sad at all. if you want to weave in aspects of vash's nightmares and make one big franken-nightmare, please feel free! )

[ Cress is always alone in her nightmares. Sometimes there are hands that grab and bodies that shield, but she always ends up alone.

Her satellite has plummeted from orbit, but she's alone this time. There's no dashing hero with clever retorts or survival skills. Just Cress, trapped in her prison again. Her wobbling, sinking prison. The desert intends to swallow her whole. Cress hits the switches to open the door but it gives a wheezing hiss and opens only a crack. In desperation, she tries to wiggle her way out but only manages to emerge partway.

All she can do is shout, her voice faint and her heart hoping, always hoping, someone will hear. ]

Help! Please!

[ The Great Fall plays itself out again and again in picture-perfect clarity in Vash's dreams nearly every night. Ship Five falls along with the rest of the fleet and he's left to pull himself from his crashed escape ship to witness the devastation that his brother has wrought. His feet carry him through the sandy landscape littered with wreckage and bodies, retracing the steps his younger self took. The heat of the fires all around him are a stark contrast to the cold night air, the flames licking up along cryo pods as the sleepers within remain oblivious to the tragedy that has befallen them. There's nothing Vash can do for them. Abject horror and an all-consuming guilt propel him forward into the desert, desperate for an escape as he flees from both the dead and surviving alike.

Normally he would run until his legs give out and he's left to collapse into the sand, wishing for it all to end, but tonight something is different. The cries for help aren't anything new, but when Vash glances in the direction of the voice, what he sees is. What's sticking out of the sand doesn't look like it belongs to the fleet in the slightest. That's not supposed to be in his memory at all. Vash's frantic steps slow to a halt as his gaze remains glued to the foreign object. He can't linger on his confusion overly long as the satellite is rapidly sinking and he promptly remembers the faint cries for help coming from it. ]

I'm coming, hold on!

[ Like usual in his waking life, his body moves before he even thinks about it. He breaks from his set path to run up a piece of a broken ship and then leap onto the sinking satellite. The door is easily located and he slips the fingers of his prosthetic arm through the crack, grabbing firm hold before he pulls with all his might. It's probably only by virtue of the impeccable craftsmanship of his arm that he gets the door to budge at all, forcing it to slide open further with an unpleasant screech to create just enough space for someone to fit through. He wastes no time sticking his other arm in to offer help pulling the trapped occupant out. ]

C'mon, I've got you—

[ Cress nearly cries when she hears a voice answer her. The satellite shifts again until she's hanging with nothing but a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the hatch to keep her from tumbling back down. The moment he offers his hand, she grabs and clings. Cress tries to get a foothold on something so she can help, but her bare feet just slide off of the slick metal walls. The best she can do is hang on and try not to move too much.

When Vash finally gets a good look at her, he'd see a petite eighteen-year-old wearing a threadbare white dress two sizes too small and completely barefoot. If it wasn't obvious how much she stood out before, it's extremely obvious now. Even more so when she looks at him like he may as well be an angel sent to rescue her. ]

[ There remains a strange, niggling awareness in the back of his mind that things aren't as they're meant to be and it's accompanied by a distant gratitude that he's not his childhood self like he sometimes is in his dreams. Without the strength of his grown body, he doubts he would have been able to lift the trapped occupant — a girl — as effortlessly as he does. Looking at her, it's obvious she doesn't belong in this scenario, she's not dressed like any of the people in the fleet. It's not something Vash can stop to ponder or question when he can feel the satellite sinking beneath his feet as the desert greedily swallows it up. He flashes her a quick smile — one that is both reassuring and slightly apologetic for what he's about to do.

Without further ado, he moves one arm around her and the other lower behind her knees to gather her up in his arms and lift her securely. He wastes absolutely no time leaping as far as he can from the wreckage, making sure to take a few hurried footsteps forward after landing to be certain they're clear from the quicksand before he gently sets her down. ]

Are you alright?

[ Cress wraps her arms around his shoulders and hangs on, carefully trying not to move too much. The only response to the sudden leaping and running is a sharp intake of breath. As they move, she's dimly aware of the chaos around her but her mind is still too muddled to understand it all.

Her legs are a little wobbly when he sets her down, and her smile is just as wobbly. ]

Y-- [ She clears her throat. ] Yes. T-thank you.

[ Don't cry, she reminds herself. You'll just dehydrate faster.

Her self-talk is only moderately helpful. ]

[ She's obviously shaken — understandably so — but between her response and the quick cursory once-over Vash gives her, she appears relatively unharmed. It comes with a rush of relief and a distant sense of wonder. Having someone to help, actually being able to stop and aid anyone when he's normally compelled to keep running, helps keep his own distress at bay. That doesn't make the current situation any less pressing though. If anything, he wants to spare her the horror of seeing all the death and destruction surrounding them as much as possible. He needs to get her away from the crash site.

So there's no time to stop and ask questions to try and make sense of this new development. Instead he lets his relief bleed into his smile, making it all the more genuine. Given that she looks close to tears, he keeps his voice soft and encouraging to match. ]

Can you walk? It's best we keep moving.

[ He has no qualms carrying her if need be, but that's a choice he'll leave to her. At least with it being night time, the sand is cool and won't hurt her bare feet if she decides to chance it. ]

It's that one where you have to give a speech to a crowd of bears and wasps again

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welcome to the trigun suffering 🤝

happy to be here 🤝

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