Vault Fic D' Untitled
by YoujiK33
of of it is beaten to me. I then not to believe that it is beaten to me. But here I am, resting in dirtiness, baillant with him in incredulity while it eats apple with a grimace sufficient foundation of concrete through its face.
from from it will not draw me. I then not to start to include/understand why. As I observe it walk far, the suns elucidating a sharp halation in his black hair, I realize that in this moment there are few things that I really include/understand. There is a bullethole in my shoulder and I concentrate on the pain, testing with open space my head, trying to simplify my emotions.
from from it did not draw me. And, equalize while I want to condemn his stupidity, I it proud lucky find myself of him, to trust of this young man which was, at the same time, almost a son with me. Not that I ever said that to him. But I * AM * to trust of him, its force of will, if not for its logic. I know that I then not to now destroy it.
and then I feel it - my tightening of hand of his own will. I include/understand what occurs immediately, and it continues to go except function, unconscious. I try to require, to inform it, but my mouth refuses to form the words. I observe in the horror while my gun rises; I engagements to retain me while my finger draws release but it is all desperate. It turns too late and I finally manage to block out of " NOT! " as the balls hammer in him.
of of it slips with its knees slowly, eyes storm-gray with far, a hand on the punissor transversely and other data entries through its stomach. It is its turn with bailler in the surprise because I regain the ordering of me, slackening my weapons and hurrying with him.
of of " I not - " I bégaye stupidly " it was not me, Legato - "
" ampčreheure of of. " It flickers, smiling gently " I include/understand "
of of that I then not to believe that it could forgive me so much easily. It is changed so much. It is not small any more the boy bitter and annoyed only I took under my wing, do not equalize more the man who there is the three years left to bring to Vash the rush to his brother.
the blood of of infiltrates on its jacket. It is difficult to see, dark on the black, but there is much him. Too much. I then not to help it. And even while I carry out this I carry-too out that I wish almost me could know this new man, that which I could have seen which Vash changes had made with its ideals.
of of it tries to obtain with its feet, and I help it. Just a hand was closed around its arm... when it holds the lucky find of I myself loosely embracing it, around the shoulders, trying not to wound it " I am afflicted, Nicholas, " murmur of I " I am sorry "
of of it is never seen to me like this, if weak. It brings a soft smile to its face, the EC of the ruptures which little of heart I left. There is ego so much want to say him that, but do not know me. I lucky find myself speaking without carrying out even what I say.
of of " I will not wound it, Nicholas. I promise that to you. I then not to guarantee his safety, but - I will not wound it "
for for " you thanks " It beats my shoulder once, raising the punissor.
of of " I know why you could not destroy it. You deal with him too much " It avoids my glance fixes this time, and me the lucky find myself turning the back on him. It is too painful to observe it " I include/understand "
of of it does not make any answer, but I hear his footboards cracking in the road hard-hardware-packed of dirtiness. When I turn around it rounds already the corner, its step strengthens surprisingly for a man of death.
of of I collect my own weapon, wrapping it carefully and shouldering it. I know what I must do now. I then not to hold me to continue to live without refunding it.
of of while I move out of the city that I realize that there are tears in my eyes, extreme behind the red objectives.