bakerstreet | april texting.

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april texting.

TEXTING MEME
You’ve got your TFLN, you’ve got your sexting, now here’s the meme for all those gen texts, phone calls, voicemails, pictures of your cats, and whatever else your little heart can come up with, because who doesn't like a little old fashioned friendly texting. (Or enemy texting, if that's more your bag.)

instructions: What it says on the tin! Leave a comment with your character, include preferences, a start, absolutely nothing or whatever you want. Run around and reply to others. Lather, rinse, repeat.

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There's a rock in my left boot, I'm running out of bullets, I lost my last book about a town back, and I think the egg from breakfast has made me queasy.

( All nice, normal thoughts. Not the trepidation, not the loneliness, not the ache. )

What are you thinking about?

[ a brother who runs and runs and runs himself into ruin... ]

How well you would do within walls.

I'd miss the sky.

Those stale constellations from the children's books.
What have they done for you, brother mine?

Guided me, mostly.

That feels pretty good of them.

This is pretty good?

Fugitive. A rock in your shoe.
Still running from me.

Is it really running if I'm mostly pacing in a circle right now? I'm even texting you!

As if you'd like me to place you, pin you, pick you up.

Kidnapping feels a little extreme. Don't you know I'm already on the way?

Then pacing a hole into the ground with aching feet is your grand attempt at a shortcut?

[ vexed, petulant. the veneer of supreme certainty cracking, the way it will do like this -- Vash ducking out from under his reaching hand. his brother wandering in circles, waiting out Knives' desire. denying his own. ]

I'm not delaying on purpose.

( Maybe? Who knows? His body could be working against him. )

Actually, I'm meant to be sleeping.

With no one to watch over you.
Sweet naif.

[ an Independent can hear it, perhaps, if the wind skimming the crests of sand dunes ever relented: the mechanical creak of strange birds dispersed to alight in Vash's vicinity; their compound eyes scanning the dark for a bloom of red on the sand, and then locking on.

always, someone is watching for Vash.

such is a brother's love. ]

Edited 2025-04-13 17:34 (UTC)

( He does hear something, but whether it be paranoia or something else he doesn't know. He stops his pacing to look towards the skyline. )

Naif?

Sometimes I think you just sit around reading a thesaurus. Just for new vocabulary. Besides, I can't be watched all the time. I could be doing something weird!

So surprised?
You're not the only one who reads.

[ a certain measure of smug legible in the text. Vash is probably impressed with his vocabulary. Vash is probably wondering how 'naif' sounds in Knives' mouth.
without a doubt. ]

Weird.
There's nothing you could do that I would find weird, Vash. I'm not one of your humans.

( He could be jorking it! )

You'd find so many things I do weird. There'd be an entire lengthy list. I could start making it right now if you like. My sandwich choices have gotten me some weird looks. Dance moves? Goofy. My not using the word 'naif' in a sentence? Abhorrent!

[ so then jork it. jork it right now ]

No.
I wouldn't.

[ immediately blinking onto Vash's screen; brooking no quarter.

-- with one qualification. this is no admission that Vash is correct; he cannot find Vash weird. wayward brother, prodigal brother. all his aberrations are only details; only armor for Knives to diligently shuck off of him, piece by piece.

... he is merely stating for the record that Vash has been weird in deed, a few times. ]

Enjoying Rem's attempts at cooking was weird of you.

( Out here? In the sand?

But swiftly moving on, because Nai willingly bringing up Rem is something strange, something miraculous. He's torn too many ways, bittersweet, sad, angry. Homesick. )

Okay, but in my defence we had either ship food or Rem's food, how was I to know it wasn't that great? ( Disingenuous to talk badly of her? He doesn't think so. She'd want them to. ) Do you remember that burnt bread thing? I think it was bread. She tried so hard.

[ (free yourself)

isn't it funny? for all the earthly kingdom he has raised himself, for all the chasing he's done after Vash, that woman remains background. a static in the corner of Knives' mind, a spectral burden he glimpses -- and is she lashed to Vash alone? or to Knives himself also? ]

The cinnamon bread pudding. Charred on top.

[ reply after a quiet minute or two.
yes, he remembers. he remembers everything. ]

So did you. [ tried so hard. foolish. ] Taking your appreciative bites.
So determined.
So silly.

And I told you so.

Edited (clarityyyy) 2025-04-13 19:02 (UTC)

It was still kind of wet in the middle! I got that bad stomach ache after, and we didn't even know stomachs could ache.

( Laughing now, bittersweet with it. )

I made you sit and tell me stories so Rem thought we were playing. You wouldn't do the voices.

Spoiled.
Because you like my own voice best.

[ present tense revisionism.
refusing to relegate what he had -- when he had Vash -- to bygones. ]

Only I could make you better.
Remember?

Even if you didn't want to do the voices, you always read it super seriously. I liked that a lot.

I can read to you super seriously, Vash. Just the way you like it.

Ask me to.

What kind of story would you read me?

[ the pickings are slim. he knows these rooms, spare and utilitarian, by rote now -- an inexorable entering-leaving, with the Doctor, or to find Legato, or for Elendira's tutelage.

there is a Bible in the conference room. annotated, marked up, by Legato's hand. there is a magazine. No Man's Land Broadcast Magazine, picked up and leafed through for its feature on 'THE HUMANOID TYPHOON.' this reading material also coincidentally features in our other thread, the July thread, which i'll pick up again tomorrow. BUT UNTIL THEN:

what indeed. ]

Isn't it enough to hear my voice?

Maybe.

Are you gonna use naif a lot?

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