Uh. yeah. This is probably the first real fanfic I ever wrote. Scratch that, I wrote some DBZ thing once. Anyway, this is an angstfic thing I wrote because I have insomnia, basically. If you don't understand it, it's probably because I based it off the manga.
PG13 because Midvalley's an idiot. But we love him anyway. ^^ Mild vague spoilery things...I didn't even really use the phrase "Gung-Ho Guns".
Appearences Are Decieving
By Lauren Ashley "AngelSakura Wolfwood" Stephens
Trigun (c) 1999 to Yasuhiro Nightow and Shounen Gaho-sha. I don't claim to own Trigun or anything related to it.
You cannot always tell what a person is like by looking at their face.
If you looked into the face of one Nicholas D. Wolfwood, you would probably take him for a kind person at heart, a little tired of the world. And you would be right.
But if you examined his eyes, you would find a sort of cold edge, almost calculating, to his gaze. His dark, narrow eyes testify to the life he leads in secret, under a different name, where he does things that would horrify his closest friends.
Although he tries to stay distant.
So no one notices the cruel eyes he's gained, or the pain that's even deeper.
But once in a great while, some one will search his face and tell him they see how much his way of life pains his heart.
One such man is known as Vash the Stampede.
Vash's face is happy, smiling, most of the time. And most of the time, that smile is fake. He too hides pain, under a mask of idiocy. He cries, sometimes, remembering his terrible past. And his lineage has trapped him in this life, unable to leave.
But you can't tell these things from this man's face. You only see his false happiness, a smile that doesn't quite reach his blue eyes.
When the need arises, he can be serious. Yet even while he endures the horrors, he will not cause another pain such as his. At these times, his face is cold and frozen.
Inside, he's frantic.
He searches for some way to end this, while he wonders...Why does it have to be this way?
Answer me, Knives. I know you can hear me.
But Knives only laughs.
If you found yourself in close quarters with Millions Knives, he would probably present himself as a gentleman. However, if you were to observe him without his notice, you might see the unbridled cruelty in his icy eyes. More than likely, you would see his mouth curl in the sadistic smile that comes from complete and total control.
This man answers to no one. He only commands, ordering his minions to slaughter hundreds, for the soul purpose of the good of his brother.
So he would say.
Vash must be taught the error of his ways.
Most call him sick.
One man calls him Master.
Legato Bluesummers has a calm face. If you met him, you would probably think him handsome. His features have the demeanor of a man who doesn't hurry, because he has no reason to. He does whatever he likes.
Before, his eyes were equally calm. Flecked with gold, they were beautiful eyes, one hidden behind a curtain of his blue hair.
Before.
Now, his eyes are mostly dull, although they retain their color and beauty. You would probably assume that he's not aware, his mind preoccupied behind his dead eyes. But if something happened to rouse him, you would observe an instant transformation.
His eyes take on the sheen of a hungry animal's, a pyschotic monster on the leash of his Master, barely restraining himself. His pupils dialate, his face twisting into an expression that can only be described as elation at his power.
At his control.
Control over such men as Midvalley the Hornfreak.
If you are female, it would not be difficult to get close enough to Midvalley to look into his eyes. He would gladly get up close and personally, especially if you happen to be an attractive female. But his confident face and personality are only a distraction. You can see it in his eyes, if he hasn't tried to grope and/or seduce you by now. Always assuming you are female, of course.
He wants out of this nightmare, just like his partner, a conspiricy within the group. He's a free spirit. This life is too confining for him, and you can see the effect of the strain in his eyes.
The faces of these five men can tell you very little about them. It is said that people's faces reveal a lot about them, but in the case of these lonely souls, appearences are decieving. A friendly priest, a cheerful gunman, a caring brother, a silent cripple, a saxophone player who flirts a little too much for his own good. These are the descriptions that you might use if you saw them in the street.
But they are much deeper than that.
