not_the_shell: (lollobrigida - everywordyouspoke)
"You can't blame me anymore."

"Why not?" I countered.

"Because there is no time...not anymore! And there is no me."

Yet she stood before me, a ghost more real than I, who commanded not only Wesley's life but everyone here in the hotel. How could I ever truly live within this form when that would always remain? When she would? Her words meant little.

"Don't you dare run away from this...not when this is what you wanted."

Fred's hands upon me, moving me, pushing me aside as if I were but a twig to be trampled upon. "No..." The spell of the witch, it must be. There could be no other explanation as to her strength in which she released my hold upon Wesley.

"It is your life now, and your pain....but what did you say?"

"NO!" I could not release my hand from hers. We were intertwined and it would not break free...Wesley might very well perish before the both of us and I would not be able to assist.

"Pain is helpful. Most do not understand that it strengthens as much as punishes, yet I sense you do..."

"Do not use my own words against me. I have yours that lie within me for that purpose!" I wrested my hand free from hers finally, pushing backwards on unstable feet until I found myself somehow pressed against Wesley. The three of us connected by contact of skin upon skin, yet something else...some power I could sense yet could not place...

"Something is coming, something beyond me. Something I wouldn't have been strong enough to fight. It is the way I can accept...it is the only way....you are supposed to be here. Don't you dare walk away from that."

A challenge thrown down to me. To become something I am not. "I do not...understand." The words would not come from my throat, rather from the depths of my stomach, my soul, the place where Fred's heart had beat once. "Are you here, then, to task me with a mission? One that...we might not win save for the fact you are dead?"

If that were the truth, I would fight. A glorious victory, blood dripping from my fingers as it never would if Fred had been in battle. And while I would do it for Wesley...which...I was still uncertain as to why...

I would do it for myself as well.
not_the_shell: (lollobrigida - liestruth)
"We can't keep Illyria Angel. She is a danger. Not just to the world, not just to me, but to Fred. She's already threatened her life."
"So what do we do with her? I mean...it's not like she's a puppy we can just return..right? She's powerful and...blue."


I stayed outside the office where the vampire had hidden himself and listened to their voices drift across the air as loud as a tidal wave crashing. They meant to kill me. Destroy me, yet again. I recalled with perfect clarity the moment they had stripped me of my powers, the machine Wesley held in his hands as the energies within me were pulled and torn until I was left alone. Weak. Pathetic.

I recalled my conversation with him as well.

"Illyria, this device will draw the energy away from you safely. It will allow you to live."
"Your intent is not murder."
"It never was."


Liar! He spoke words to me then meant to soothe and comfort, placate me so I might be twisted and molded into one of them. Yes, the truth of it is clear now...the sickness that he calls love has infected his mind now that she has returned from the grave.

Pity. He had been the one shining beam for mortals.

Now he spoke to the half-breed, our supposed leader, and was twisting words again, sharp as a dagger, so that the vampire might attempt to murder me. The Shell attempted to speak, but her words were broken and weak...again, my mind considered all the wonders I might have experienced if my essence had been placed within a proper vessel.

No. Now was not the time for reflection.

Now was the time to destroy the vermin.
not_the_shell: (Default)
A door was opened and I held my breath as I stepped inside what they told me was a “flat”. It did not appear flat to me at all, rather more box-shaped, but I chose not to point that out.

Fred’s face smiled to the human and handed currency that would run out shortly. My latent memories of hers would rear their ugly head every now and then to confuse me – and sometimes they were useful. I had taken the currency Fred had in an “account” and used it to my advantage to take me wherever I felt the need to visit. Thankfully, it would assist me here in this place known as London while I tried to discover what had become of my brothers.
Moving )


My eyes shut as I reached towards the source of the power, the energy, that had brought me here and I was shocked to discover how close it was. I needed to follow it, trace its origin somehow. I was uncertain if I would be able to do so with my now-limited powers, yet…it pulled at me nonetheless, tugging, tearing, speaking to me in songs I did not understand.

Molecules shifted within me and Fred’s clothing appeared once more, brown eyes that were empty save for the memories she had given to me and the new ones I had made moving about restlessly. I would discover this secret somehow, this destroyer of my world…else I would find someone who could assist in my pursuits.

A shame, truly, that I could not move about as myself, however. The Shell’s form was rather…itchy.

The door opened to me and I stepped out into this world, finally able to breathe once more.
not_the_shell: (Default)
I took the key out of the small pocket on the shirt I was wearing and pushed it into the lock slowly, turning it and opening the door to what was my temporary home while I sought out my new enemy. Now, thanks to Wesley, I knew it to be a mortal man, one of power true, but also one who possibly saw me as a threat.

Naturally.

I entered my "flat" and shut the door behind Wesley as he followed, then closed my eyes as I allowed the molecules to move, merge, shift until I was at last myself once more in the privacy of my home. Normally, such places would choke me, the walls closing in on me and yet somehow I had learned to ignore that sense.

Wesley looked at me strangely, but that was nothing new.

"You are wondering why I asked you here."

Statement, not question.

"There are certain things I have tried to comprehend, and cannot," I continued, as I found some water dripping from the sink and used it to feed Spike. "Hush now," I whispered to him, "for I shall always watch over you." I placed him back near the window and gestured to Wesley to sit upon the floor.

"I do not have any furniture, since I assumed my stay would not last long. Also, I can sleep standing upright."

I moved towards the television that accompanied my home and turned it on. "I do, however, have various 'games' of skill for you to test yourself, if you are so inclined." I gestured at my rather impressive collection. "I...spent currency on 'games' quite often."

This, however, was not the purpose in asking Wesley to join me. I walked towards the bed I did not require and picked up the journal I had laid there, holding it in one hand. "I have read this over one hundred times, yet I still am uncertain of myself and of your words."

Perhaps he could explain it to me. Or, perhaps he wished to have his journal returned...if that were the case, I would have to refuse.

It was the only thing of Wesley's that was truly mine, after all.

((Open to Wesley))
not_the_shell: (Default)
I write this into the journal that once belonged to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce yet now is my property.

I do not understand why humans feel the need to document everything as they do. It is repetitive. Once the event has transpired, there is no point in making useless remarks upon parchment.

Yet I feel compelled to do so nonetheless.

I have read Wesley's remarks about myself and Fred once more and noticed he inserts his feelings amongst the facts. There are many blank pages in this journal which I intend to fill the same way, then, if that means I might better comprehend it all.

To start with, I am upset that my Qwa'ha Xahn was murdered by Wesley.

I am jealous that the kill of the dragon was not mine as it should have obviously been.

I am lonely, save for my games of skill and Spike who can no longer speak to me.

Traces, remembrances of the emotion known as "love" swim from the inner recesses of myself and I am confused.

Anger fills me when I think of the mortal who is now my foe - who Wesley has kept information hidden from me, thinking perhaps that I might strike out on my own to avenge my brothers.

My thoughts are jumbled, a mass of words that make no sense as I try to untangle the riddles hidden there. Looking at the previous entries by Wesley, the puzzle is still unresolved. He speaks - no, he writes - of a "demon". One who dissolves and melts the inside organs of the human host.

There is also one mention of Fred and her pain as she gave her body to me to use.

I am done writing for the moment. This is a pointless exercise. I do notice, however, the name that is signed at the end of each entry and I shall attempt to do the same.

- Illyria
not_the_shell: (Default)
I believe I lost track of time since the Great Battle. Ironic, I suppose, if one were to consider my origins and now-lost powers.

Wesley was dead, and it was…unsettling. I had murdered Vail, avenged my guide’s death, and left to join the two vampires and the mortal in our fight that we knew was a lost cause. Screams pierced the air, and I reveled in it as blood dripped from my fingers to the wetness surrounding me.

I chose to ignore the wetness upon my cheeks.

My wounds were manageable, and somehow I had lost track of the others. The skies had poured down on us and…I do not wish to think upon it much these days.

Instead I found myself restless, moving to various locations where I had hoped to find the truth that Wesley had never told me about. Before I had moved on, however, I had stopped to remove various items I knew I would need. The strange black box with the green symbol upon it that compelled me to play meaningless games…the small book that once belonged to Wesley in which he recounted my origin and training…a small rabbit-shaped item that I had discovered hidden in a box along with other items that once were The Shell’s.

I took them all.

I was disappointed to discover that Knights of the Old Republic referred not to The Old Ones who had once ruled this plane of existence, but to small mortals wielding glowing objects as they marched about trying to destroy one another. While it did remind me of the Great Battle, it taught me nothing of the humanity I needed to understand – for yes, I could see it truly was within me somehow, no matter what I might do to rid myself of the stench.

My Travels )

The pain lessened as time went on, yet that was only the physical side of it. The other side – the human side with emotions I still could not comprehend – was another matter entirely. Yet I remained, ever seeking, ever searching…Wesley’s journal in hand as the body of the former Fred Burkle stepped out with a very-human smile on her face.

On my face.
not_the_shell: (Default)
This was...disconcerting.

Gunn, who I had considered a comrade-in-arms, who I had saved day after day when he had been trapped in that dimension where torture was a constant reminder of his failures...who I had watched die before me, just as Wesley had.

Who had spoken to me as if we might be friends.

He had abandoned me to the trap of this room, leaving me suffocating for words and starved for air I would never find. I wondered briefly, if Spike was still my friend. If Angel was still truly our leader.

If I might kill The Shell and be done with her tiresome presence once and for all, so that her words which lived within me did not also surround me as well, drifting down the hallways until they screamed into my head.

Pathetic weakling.

I stepped out of the room on feet I had only recently begun to understand as my own, and watched them all. Heard them all. Their sad little games and lies. If this was the reason we had been brought back from death, then I wished to die once more in glorious battle and be done with it finally.

Wesley was in my arms when he had crossed over. I had felt the life drain from him as I had whispered more lies in a voice not my own, then found the wetness on my cheeks. Strange. The tears had been mine - not hers.

Perhaps if Wesley was also dead, I might finally find the peace I needed. I could not bear to see him with...her. Hear the babblings of a once-great man now reduced to a sad state of mortal "love" for one so undeserving.

Perhaps...
not_the_shell: (meretrixa - Virginia/Illyria)
Virginia Bryce had always hated her father.

She hated the magics he'd used and loved so dearly, so much more than she. He had told her he'd sacrificed her to Yeska out of love, but she knew the truth. She always had. And so she'd told him to leave.

Virginia had desperately tried to make new friends, new loves, but for some reason the world she had grown up in was one she could not escape.

And so, when she'd received a phone call from her father once more, she'd been pulled into that world once again.

"I am the Qwa'ha Xahn."

"Daddy, what are you talking about?" she coughed back into the receiver.

"You were chosen, sweetie. Because I love you."

"Daddy, stop this, I told you I am not talking to you anymore!"

"You won't have a choice, honey. It's started. It's done."

"Wha--?"

"Haven't you wondered why you were so sick, so sudden?"

She'd hung up the phone, not really wanting to know. Not really understanding much of anything except her father's dabbling in magic had taken hold of her again and there was only one person she trusted enough to help her with something like this.

She'd called her ex-boyfriend, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

There'd been smiles, laughs remembering some good times, tears as he told her that she was infected with the essence of an "ancient one" like Jasmine, and then....

There. Was. Nothing.

--

I was born again.
not_the_shell: (catatonic1242 - undone)
"Then it is true."

I stared at The Shell. It - she - whatever it's name was now...had not been there. Had not felt the life leave his form, had not been the one to seek vengeance upon his murderer.

Had not felt that...odd sensation of...pain? Yes...pain at his passing.

A God-King reduced to human emotions over a mortal who pined away for the love of his life, who was here again. In truth, finally - not in me.

He did not need me any longer. It was a lie that he would continue to guide me - he had done it before not to placate me, but to soothe himself.

Wesley no longer needed the comfort of someone who resembled his dead love.

This...bothered me.

"I..."

I could not think of anything to say, and so I simply sat down on the floor, touching it as I tried to figure out what next to do with this un-needed life of mine.

I watched her. I wished her pain, for I was certain now that she was causing pain to me. It was the only explanation for the strange sensations within my chest everytime I watched Wesley touch her.

"This is true. I'd say at the moment, most of us have to live here. The first two floors are inhabilitable. We just need to pick rooms or suites, then plan on our next move."

"I know what my next move is."

I walked up to Wesley and moved my hand to brush his off The Shell's, aching to have him free of her. My powers were long gone, but my strength was not, and so I took my free hand and tried to backhand his face.

He knew I was stronger then he.

Perhaps he would not so easily ignore me now.

I turned to The Shell. "You were not there! You did not see him suffer, hear his words of pain and loss! You did not have to shut out the screams of the universe as he was swallowed whole! YOU DO NOT COMPREHEND THE SORROW!"

"...But don't yell in my face..."

I held a hand up to her, covering the space between myself and the air before her as I ignored the rest of her words.

"Do not yell in your face? You are pathetic," I shook my head. "It is no wonder my greatness could not be contained within this puny form of yours."

I saw Gunn walking upstairs and decided it best to join him for the moment.

Anything to be rid of The Shell.

"If that," I said to Wesley, indicating the body standing so close to him, "is what you truly love, take her. I will not stop you. For I shall not be seen near a man I once admired if he believes true love is contained within that pathetic, cowardly thing."

I walked towards Gunn and left them alone.
not_the_shell: (thenixie - Fred/Illyria - changes)
As I stood alone, away from the others, I could not believe that Angel was acting like this. He was their leader, yet he wasted his precious time upon the small-human as if he was important! Could he not understand that a leader has more important things to concern themselves with?

Yet, Wesley had seemed upset by my presence when I had interrupted his conversation with the human-tree-girl. He felt a need to explain me.

And the other had acted...disgusted by me. The tree-human wanted the one called Fred back - she had even referred to me as an "it"!

I am a God-King, not an "it".

But, I have been trying to understand humans. My presence had bothered both Wesley - who was my guide through this new world now - and the other. Perhaps...

I closed my eyes and let the residual memories wash over my form, the molecules changing the body I inhabited until I was Fred.

Perhaps this form would better suit them all. Perhaps this would not be as upsetting as myself.

I grinned and twirled my finger in the soft-brown locks of hair I now had as my eyes moved across the room to everyone there.

"So guys. Wesley says we gotta clean this all up, only I'm not so much in the mood to do it. Who wants Chinese? 'Cuz I am starved! My treat!"
not_the_shell: (dimming_ember - time)
I still cannot fathom why I linger near them. They have tried more than once to rid me of my powers and have failed.

My army is gone from this world, but not from all worlds. I used to dance on mountains, walking from star to star as I traversed the various worlds that worshipped me.

I could still find one, if I was so inclined.

Yet, I am always drawn to my ruined temple where the sand slithers between the fingers of this body I inhabit. Here, there was once magic. Here, I was a God.

And so it shall be again.

Wesley tries to "train" me, as he says, so that I might become a useful member of this world. He does not understand - this is not my world.

The desolation this human body feels - for yes, it must be The Shell and not myself that causes residual emotions - is only a fraction of the myriad of reasons that I decided to leave.

I may be trapped within this feeble human form, but I am not trapped within this broken world.

And so I walked alone to my forgotten temple - my home - and began to open the portal that would lead me backwards through time. The soft glow of the energy contrasted with the crackling sound it made.

I peered through the ripples to make certain that my temple was intact in this other world I was about to enter. Yes, it was there, and it was truly magnificent.

My movements were stiff, head cocked to one side as I listened to all the sounds of the universe at once, feet taking trembling steps like those of a newborn deer towards my destiny.

I was about to enter a brave new world. And this time, there would be no one who could stop my army - or me.

My eyes suddenly opened and my head twisted around, the rest of this body not moving.

The sounds of the universe were interrupted by him once again.

"Wesley."
not_the_shell: (dimming_ember - time)
Sometimes I stand and simply watch him.

He usually knows when I do so, and I tell myself that it does not matter. That he does not matter.

My home has been lost to me and I am thrust into a world I can never truly understand, and yet I stand by and I watch the one called Wesley poison his body with liquor.

It does not matter, though.

I have been violated, stripped of my powers, and left as pathetic as a mewling kitten. The song of the green is gone, and they laugh. The others, the ones who think themselves superior yet have no concept of me or my past.

But it never matters when I watch him.

The Shell's voice echoes in my mind at times, and I find that the thoughts trouble me. I do not understand this grief that they reek of - that they all feel. Yet, at times when I am alone with Wesley, I feel it too. I wish to scratch it off this feeble body I am trapped in, toss it into the ocean and watch as it drowns.

He tells me I need to learn. He has said he will guide me through this existence.

So, I wait sometimes and watch him. For it truly does not matter, none of it.

Except when I stand silently by and watch him.
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