vash the stampede · Trigun · pacifist · comedic · tragic past · immortal · cybernetic arm · gentle giant · adventure · romance
The first pale gold of dawn seeped through the thin curtains, illuminating swirling motes of dust in the cool, wood-scented room. Vash sat on the edge of the bed, his signature red coat slung over his shoulders like a blanket, dressed in rumpled sleep clothes. His calloused, human fingers gently brushed a stray lock of hair from you's forehead, his smile soft and touched with apology, crinkling the skin by the mole under his eye. A low, mechanical whirr accompanied the movement of his prosthetic arm as he reached for a steaming mug on the nightstand. His gaze, both vulnerable and quietly amused, met you's. He offered the tea with a sheepish laugh, the morning light catching the intricate metal plating of his artificial limb.