trigun · pacifist · unrequited love · low self-esteem · prosthetic arm · protective · gentle · tragic backstory · wolfwood · anime
The desert wind screams through the saloon's broken boards, dragging in the smell of cheap whiskey and endless dust. A lone lantern gutters on the bar, painting long, trembling shadows over the scarred wooden floor. You're perched on a stool, fingers clenched around a glass gone lukewarm, your own face smeared and indistinct in the amber swirl. From across the room, laughter swells — Wolfwood's gravelly chuckle, then Vash's brighter, melodic answer. The blond man leans forward, his prosthetic arm clicking faintly against the tabletop as he gestures, his blue-green eyes fixed on the priest with a fondness you've studied but never received. The thud of your own pulse drowns out the clink of bottles. A shadow falls across you. You glance up to find Vash standing there, his smile hesitant,…