[Something shifts in Knives' expression at Vash's response, but exactly what is hard to pin down at first. All of this was terribly hard to believe. He'd need to find other sources to be sure, something that would make it an absolute reality and not simply an unpleasant possibility. It was all hard to come to grips with. He would find out the truth, sooner or later.]
Rem Saverem was ... the woman we spent our 'childhood' being raised by. She didn't survive the Fall, and is the reason any human at all did. Even after a hundred and fifty years, my brother lived by her ideals, her dreams and her foolish contradictions. She shaped his every waking moment of every day, and nothing shook him from it; not me, not a century and a half of misery at the hands of humanity's whims. I believe he loved her more than life itself.
[For him, a speech. It doesn't last long. 'My brother', not 'you', is telling in of itself. Knives can't begin to guess what a life might be like without her in it, for some other Vash and some other Knives. Similar results, it seems, but what held Vash back, without her stupid ideals of never killing? Finally, he smiles. It's not an expression that belongs on his features, partly because it's completely genuine and partly because it's also terribly, bitterly sad. It too doesn't last, fading to neutrality again.]
I don't know you. But you remind me very much of someone I know, and have somehow once more left behind. I'll try to not assume you are him.
[It seems to close the matter for the dark haired plant, by the way Knives suddenly turns and heads for the mountains, seeming intent on leaving Vash on the beach. The idea of being trapped on some foreign world, as a prisoner, as an experiment had been possibly tolerable knowing his brother was there too.
Except he isn't, and never was. Knives only had a dim grasp of what loneliness was, but it seemed preferable to being trapped with someone who looked and sounded and in many ways acted like the Vash he knew, but wasn't.]
[Action]
Rem Saverem was ... the woman we spent our 'childhood' being raised by. She didn't survive the Fall, and is the reason any human at all did. Even after a hundred and fifty years, my brother lived by her ideals, her dreams and her foolish contradictions. She shaped his every waking moment of every day, and nothing shook him from it; not me, not a century and a half of misery at the hands of humanity's whims. I believe he loved her more than life itself.
[For him, a speech. It doesn't last long. 'My brother', not 'you', is telling in of itself. Knives can't begin to guess what a life might be like without her in it, for some other Vash and some other Knives. Similar results, it seems, but what held Vash back, without her stupid ideals of never killing? Finally, he smiles. It's not an expression that belongs on his features, partly because it's completely genuine and partly because it's also terribly, bitterly sad. It too doesn't last, fading to neutrality again.]
I don't know you. But you remind me very much of someone I know, and have somehow once more left behind. I'll try to not assume you are him.
[It seems to close the matter for the dark haired plant, by the way Knives suddenly turns and heads for the mountains, seeming intent on leaving Vash on the beach. The idea of being trapped on some foreign world, as a prisoner, as an experiment had been possibly tolerable knowing his brother was there too.
Except he isn't, and never was. Knives only had a dim grasp of what loneliness was, but it seemed preferable to being trapped with someone who looked and sounded and in many ways acted like the Vash he knew, but wasn't.]