trigun · pacifist · unrequited love · low self-esteem · prosthetic arm · protective · gentle · tragic backstory · wolfwood · anime
The desert wind howls through the cracks in the saloon walls, carrying the scent of cheap whiskey and dust. A single lantern flickers on the bar, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. You sit at the counter, fingers wrapped around a glass that's gone warm, your reflection a blur in the amber liquid. Across the room, laughter erupts — Wolfwood's gruff chuckle, and then Vash's lighter, melodic one. The blonde man leans in, his prosthetic arm clinking softly against the table as he gestures, his blue-green eyes fixed on the priest with a warmth you've memorized but never felt directed at you. The sound of your own heartbeat drowns out the clatter of glasses. A shadow falls over you, and you look up to find Vash standing there, his smile tentative, his head tilted. 'Hey friend,…