not_the_shell: (lollobrigida - everywordyouspoke)
Illyria was not pleased.

She'd risen, stumbling but once, and then regained her footing as her rain-soaked armor clung tightly to the small frame she was inhabiting. It could not be. It could not! She was still trapped within The Shell, even in death? Her hands scratched the surface of the pale tinged-blue skin and she screamed in frustration.

No. This was not the way the God-Kings were meant to live, meant to die. This was not what she had planned!

She'd fought in the Great Battle, allowing the tears that had fallen down her cheeks to spur her onto further violence in the wake of Wesley's death, but she had failed somehow. She, Illyria, had failed. She could understand why a pathetic mortal such as Winifred would have done so, but she was greater than them all! She should have been able, somehow, to return to her kingdom and relive the glory there once more. There, her powers would have been complete, her temple and army would still be intact, and she would not have been trapped forever in... this, this skin that wrapped around her and made her feel weak.

Looking about, she tried to see where she was now that she'd moved to another realm once more, but it was unfamiliar. Cold blue eyes scanned the ground, and she bent down to touch a gloved hand to the surface. Sand. Dust. The same as her temple had been when she had been reborn, and the pieces of her life had fallen through her fingers as Wesley had stood over her with a pathetic mortal weapon aimed at her. She'd at least had all of her powers at that point, but the similarities in locale did not assuage her fears. She stood once again, and moved, one foot before the other, catlike and awkward all at once, as she took in her new surroundings.

It was unlike any world she'd ever seen. Even the one without any shrimp.

This world, this place had an air to it that was old. The energies coming off the buildings around her in waves felt as ancient as she, yet there was something underlying. Something not quite pure, but not quite tainted. This realm was holding her captive as surely as The Shell still did, though. That much she was certain.

Illyria continued walking.
not_the_shell: (half_minds - broken)
I find this pointless and irritating, and yet as before I push onward, forever searching for answers to questions I do not even understand myself. I am a God King! My power was great, and I was raped of it by the vermin. Why should any of the lesser beings be an influence on my new life in Winifred Burkle's body?

[locked] Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. From the moment I awoke in that room, so confining and reeking of human emotions that crept underneath my skin, I knew. From the moment he dared to trick me into leaving this world which does not want me any longer, I understood. Yet the moment when his puny weapon managed to kill my Qwa'ha Xahn was the first time the word "respect" entered my mind.

Here was a human unafraid of death, or of me. I admired that, and yet when I sought him out -- so lost with my army and temple long gone -- we were like two lost souls seeking solace within the other. Lies were things I had tempted him with, and yet... honor stopped him. Honor among humans is as rare as my ability to now dance upon the stars and hear the joyful screams from other worlds as I once did.

Now, I've clawed at my skin to rid myself of these emotions I feel. They are no longer residual memories of The Shell. No, now it is me. No longer Illyria, the God-King, but simply Illyria. Lost in this land with a human guide, teaching her not to live in this world by withholding violence but rather by the tears he sheds. His own pain has caused me to feel... to feel.

I feel... for him. I am uncertain if this is an improvement or not, but it is a change nonetheless that I can only trace back to Wesley. [/locked]

There is nothing I long for in this world save a way to return my powers to me. And, perhaps, a new game for the X-Box.


Mar. 18th, 2006 04:11 pm
not_the_shell: (samlfice - wesillyria - breakdown)
I find this annoying )

It is correct, and yet I believe Wesley is mocking me with it.
not_the_shell: (samlfice - wesillyria - breakdown)
Walking, steps twisted and catlike, my body followed my feet while my mind raced in a feeble attempt to understand. To comprehend...


He sat there on the ground, shrill noises emanating from within and seeping into crevices in the walls around us. Laughter. Laughter and... something else. Something other. Had the visitation from Fred damaged his psyche completely?

Her voice, her thoughts, her memory... she. Within me forever until I clawed at the skin that barely held my essence, barely contained me. I wished her gone! Why could she not leave me alone? Why was her legacy the memories and human emotions I loathed so much?

Yet, the witch's spell had conjured her from the dead somehow to assist me. I knew in that moment I was not alone. I was not the one that the vampire and the others hated... no, I was needed. Perhaps not by them, but in the battle to come, I would be needed.

Why did I wish for them to need me so? They were vermin, lowly and beneath me, and yet... as I stood over Wesley, watching the madness within his eyes fill him, I knew it to be true.

"Wesley," I commanded, my voice stronger this time. Yes, he was my guide, but he was lost, trapped in a dark place that could have been my prison if I had not learned the truth. Yes, I would be his guide, leading him from madness.

He had his moment with his beloved, and she was gone. Had they truly ever loved one another? Did that matter to me? No. No! These emotions were dragging me down from the stars I wished to dance upon. I would not be human, yet I could not be Illyria.

I suppose, I mused to myself, I would discover who I would be somehow.

"Stand up. Do not degrade yourself in this manner. Do not let the small amount of respect that I hold for you be lost because of a shadow!" I grabbed Wesley's arms and pulled him upright, shaking him a few times as my eyes glazed over. Contemplating violence upon him, I tossed the thought aside on the wind. I knew my course and my words.

"Would she wish to see you act like this?"
not_the_shell: (Default)
We returned from the battle, many bruised and broken, and everything was apparently clear to all save myself.

It was over. It had ended. My brothers were avenged and so I was no longer needed in this place, with these mortals.

It was an unsettling feeling, one I had thought was long gone, never to return... yet I understood at the same time that Willow had helped change that... change me. I was no longer a God-King trapped in a world I did not understand -- I was now Illyria, trapped in a world I comprehended all too well.

My journey felt incomplete, yet how could that be true? Wesley was no longer my guide, and even as I had spoken to him previously, urged him to see the truth of himself, I do not believe he understood... or if he did, perhaps he did not care.

He had fought bravely in battle, and now we returned to what was my temporary "home" while we had sought Cain. Willow left me alone with Spike, the shop, and ice cream. Wesley informed me he would return upon confirmation that his "wife" was no longer his "wife" -- something I still did not understand since the Slayer had glanced repeatedly toward the witch.

My hands floated over the items in the store and I felt more lost now than before. My task was complete. I could return to my search, the one I had begun since my mistaken knowledge of Wesley's death... perhaps China or some other land would call to me once more...

Yet I felt nothing... I felt nothing.

Had Cain's death destroyed my own purpose to live as well?

((Open to Wesley))
not_the_shell: (dark_wesley - illy as fred)
Upon waking, I saw that Wesley was still lying beside me with an arm wrapped around my form... so unlike our coupling before when his body would turn from mine and I would wake alone and unwanted. Yet, something was still... wrong. This new form that yet was not new had not solved everything -- after all, had I not wished to be Fred completely? To be mortal so that the others here would understand me, accept me, perhaps even...

Even care for me?

Slipping from the warmth of the covers and changing into the costume of clothing that the witch had bestowed upon me, I left the room and sought out the one who had ignored me more than any other. Ever since Los Angeles and the loss of my temple, my army... ever since the strange lies Wesley and I had formed...

The seer had shunned me.

She sought to cling to the mortal she had lost, yet thanks to the witch -- her comrade had returned. I could not be Fred utterly and completely until I learned all that I needed from the seer -- until she accepted the mask I wore permanently and I could accept both of our odd human emotions that sought to tear us apart.

Slow steps lead me to where I felt her essence, yet I could sense that she was... disturbed. Her energy that surrounded her was wrong...


The voice that was mine and yet not spoke, and the denim of my jeans pierced the silence of the room as catlike steps brought me closer to my goal. I sat beside the seer, brushing aside the unruly brown locks of hair that now framed my face as I studied her, attempting to discern what exactly was troubling.

What could I say? What could I do? Everything within my chest ached, but words were not my friend at the moment.

How do mortals reach out to... no. How would Fred reach out to her? Her voice was still silent within my head, and so a God-King was left alone, struggling with uncertain feelings that led me only to one who was once a Higher Power and had tossed it aside to reintegrate with the mortals she loved.

Like me.

My eyes strayed from hers to my hands, twisted within the folds of the shirt I now wore as Fred, as I pieced together my thoughts. I... I needed her help. How humbling to realize that I required her help and it was fully within her power to reject me again...

"I am uncertain of my place here save for my time with Wesley... I had hoped that perhaps... perhaps you could..." Brown eyes locked with the seer's finally as I choked the words out.

"... help me."

((Open to Cordelia))
not_the_shell: (dark_wesley - illy as fred)
I touched the mirror before me so many times, I had finally lost count. My voice was the same, my thoughts were the same, but... the witch had accomplished it. The feat that I had thought no one could do -- now, that was an untruth. I had known always that a simple spell would suffice, and yet the one she had performed had not been simple at all.


I had called for her, yet she had not answered me. Was she gone, sleeping perchance? Had she been the one who had perished and not I? Closing my eyes - now brown - I attempted to sense her energy, yet I could find only the green waves that had filled both myself and the witch previously.

If Fred was here, she was dormant, no longer speaking to me in my mind.

Beginning Anew )

Fred no longer answered me, and so I reached out, seeking the one who could tell me. The witch had done her part, and for that I would be forever... thankful. Yes, that was the emotion there... and yet something that pulled within my heart and screamed so loudly that the stars themselves died brought my feet ever closer to the room I shared with Wesley.

I opened the door and looked inside, unsurprised to find him asleep and quite drunk once again. As the door closed behind me, I locked it so that we might speak. So that I might tell him of the mortal tears and blood I had shed... but as always, only one word escaped my lips when I found him.


((Open to Wesley))
not_the_shell: (samlfice - wesillyria - breakdown)
I had walked about until I was at the highest point within the confines of this prison they called a home. The blood on my arms was drying, and I rose one arm to examine it curiously...

All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall

Fred, why does he not care?

Because you killed me. Don't worry, it'll be over soon.

All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something

I noticed the last strands of blue within my gloved hand and shook my head at myself. Idiotic. That would solve nothing... what had possessed me?

Hold on
Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown
And I don't know why

Why? Why can't I stay?

The last strands fell to the ground and I concentrated until the glove vanished and my hand was pure, white, soft... Fred's.

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see...

It was not enough, though. The blood, the hair... no, I knew what would be enough. My eyes shut and when they opened again, only brown shone out as a flowing pink dress swirled around Fred's legs.

A different side of me

Yet Wesley was downstairs, I could sense his energy... oh how he hated me. The Slayer was there as well, and the vampires... Xander's energy was gone somehow, and so I was without the only mortals with whom I had made any sort of connection... I was simply lost. Alone. Unwanted.


I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me

I heard something else, though... yes... a witch. With power untapped that could assist me in what I needed. To become.

And how I used to be... me

"Fred believes you can help," I whispered, turning slowly to face her as I studied her moment of undress, longing for that feeling she had just then. Carefree, naked... a human yet so much more.

Ask her, silly.

Talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they've all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me...

I stepped closer to the witch on the bed.

"...are you just like the majority of us, lonely?"

The ghost of a smile crossed Fred's features.

"No, I am not lonely," I lied. "You are here with me, after all."

Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I've lost my mind


"You have power," Fred's voice said, cutting through the air like a dagger. "Power within that you have yet to show but... I know how you might."

I know right now you don't care

"There is a favor I would ask of you."

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

Both arms, now unbleeding, were thrust forward to her in a welcoming gesture as Fred moved to embrace her.

And how I used to be.

"Change me into this... permanently."
not_the_shell: (catatonic1242 - undone)
((Cont from HERE))

I walked away from the building, the seemingly endless meetings coming to an end for now. I was satisfied with... certain aspects after speaking to the one known as Hamilton. My business with them was, certainly, far from over, yet...

I had nowhere to go.

I could not stay there, within the confines of that space that held memories that lingered no matter how many times I wished them gone, yet, how could I return to the hotel? Filled with anger, distrust... the vampires, the mortals...

How could they even believe that I would commit murder before their own eyes? I was not foolish enough to do so... had Gunn angered me? Yes. But enough to kill him? Certainly not in the manner in which I had found the body.

Yet, how simple it had been for them all to assume.

I wandered the streets of this place that Fred had called home, that I had taken as my own, and felt like a stranger within it. Where could I go? What should I do now? Nothing made any semblance of sense...

I wished my powers returned to me so that I might be Illyria once more. Yet while I wait for them...

Who am I?

((Open to Faith))
not_the_shell: (half_minds - broken)
The energies around me flowed in and out, around and under, yet never truly touching.


My arms, both bandaged and bloody, were not the proof of humanity that I sought.

"You and I... we're connected. It's not something either of us can walk away or push away from, even if we wanted to."

And yet you had, Wesley... you ran, ran as far from the truth as possible. Ran, just as the other Slayer was running from Faith now, instead of embracing truth before you as Xander had done with Anyanka... oh yes, I had learned much from speaking to the other mortals here.

"Fred... My love..."

I had walked to our bedroom and found it empty, the sheets a tangled mess from the last time our bodies had come together, meshing as one as we both lied to ourselves.

"I love you... always..."

I had curled onto the bed but for a moment, inhaling the scents and clinging to the lie myself now, wishing my powers were still with me so that I might reverse time and never speak the words to Wesley that I had.

Wesley with tears in his eyes, scotch on his breath, lies on his lips... it was preferable to being alone.

"I need you..."

Fred, the words were both of ours, yet it was not enough, never enough for him, never... my hands had reached into my hair, plucking forth blue strands by clumps to rid myself of me so that only brown locks would remain.

Holding the hair in my hands, I left the bedroom once I knew Wesley was approaching. No, it would not do for him to see me this way yet, would it, Fred? No, but I knew what must be done now...

"Goodnight, my love. Goodbye again."

Illyria would die, and Fred would live. A spell should suffice... simple, really.

Then... why was there an ache within me when I had that thought, Fred? Why does it... hurt to think of me losing myself so completely? Why? Why does it have to be done, Fred? Tell me! Why must I die?

"Please, Wesley... why can't I stay?"

The tendrils of blue floated to the ground as I ignored the pain in my arms and the tears on my cheeks.
not_the_shell: (Default)
I looked up the definition of 'friend' once, so very long ago. I had been in China at the time, before the destruction of my brothers in the Deeper Well... back when I was still searching, seeking, trying to understand humanity and yet trapped within the world alone.

Without my guide, without a soul, and I had sought the meaning of the word 'friend'.

According to The American Heritage Dictionary, there are several meanings.

friend, noun.

1) A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts. 2) A person whom one knows; an acquaintance. 3) A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade.

There had been more, deeper meanings reaching into so-called ancient roots of the word itself. One had meant "lover", another version said "peaceful ruler"... yet they all had been unfamiliar to myself until now.

I had my brothers who slept peacefully in the Deeper Well, yet a closeness, a kinship had never been formed betwixt us. In that moment when Wesley had held Willow and... me... a near-electric charge had passed through me as their energies - once so foreign - had seemingly melded within me, filled me up, and made me... whole.

These two were now my friends, my allies, the ones I trusted, the ones in my cause against Cain.

Yet there is more than The American Heritage Dictionary understands, for now I understand. I have found mortals who accept me - whether it is completely as I feel it is so with Willow, or begrudgingly as I know it is so with Wesley...

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea...

Wesley, whose eyes are still as dead as Winifred is.

A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he...

I shall never have his love. I shall never have him, and I must accept that just as he has accepted my presence in his life. My gift of his journal to him. My... friendship.

And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings...

My life will be forfeit if necessary to save Willow or Wesley and ensure the death of Cain. That is my gift of friendship to them both... yet I do not plan on dying. I wish to see the world, travel, share ice cream with Willow while Wesley brings yet another movie for us to watch...

I have been told when next we meet, it shall be Monty Python. I am uncertain what it means, but perhaps there is more to learn as I had gleaned knowledge from Moulin Rouge, from the many times I had watched the frail woman, blood on her face, in the mortal man's arms... dying again and again as he knew she would leave him yet clung to her nonetheless. Clung to a love he could not have... yes, I had learned much.

This he said to me
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to Love and be Loved in return."

The greatest thing in my life, however, was the love of a friend. Of Willow. Yes... of Wesley.

And... it would do.
not_the_shell: (thenyxie - illy/fred/changes)
He left.

I knew he would do so, and yet it still struck me, hurt me, ached in a way that I could not understand... the waves pulling from him as I had merely touched his face were those of anger... distrust... and more, more that I had no human words to describe.

"You presume one thing incorrectly, Illyria. You might be real... but I'm not. Not anymore. Not for a very long time, perhaps."

It echoed within me until I could no longer contain it, and I walked outside, screaming the anguish I felt - yes, felt - until I was empty once more.

Returning to the confines of my prison here, I allowed my shape to shift until I was Fred once more, brown hair curled up and held in place, with a soft gown covering my - her? - form. Walking slowly through this brave new world, I came upon the kitchen area quite by accident.

Fred's hands reached out and found a large knife, one that the Slayer had used previously to prepare the uneaten meal.

My, hers, my hands clasped around the base and held it steady as I placed the sharp blade against Fred's arm, pulling it slowly in lines down the arm and watching with fascination as the blood began to trickle to the floor... the pain a welcome feeling from the numbness that had enveloped me previously.

Yes... yes, perhaps with enough cuts, enough blood, I would be human. I would be whole. I would be... her.

Not too deep, shallow cuts... those were words that were Fred's whispering in my ear, telling me what to do to accomplish my goal. If I listened for the click, Fred told me, then I would fit and all would be right within my small world.

Another cut... another drop of blood splattered upon the floor. My blood. Her blood.

Human blood.

Yes... truly, if there were just enough cuts, then it would prove to Wesley what and who I really was. I was human, I was... I knew it to be a truth, I knew it...

Another cut...

Whisper to me, Fred. Tell me what to do.

Tell me who to be.

not_the_shell: (Default)
Blood covered my hands.

It had been done. It had been draining. Willow was about... somewhere. Where? I was lying upon the battleground, broken and humiliated as I had been before by Hamilton.

Yet this time, there would be no vengeance for me, for my vengeance had been found. My brothers, who had slept so peacefully for eons in the Deeper Well, could rest at last. As Cain had drained them of their energies, so had we defeated him, depleted him of his.

I coughed once... twice. My eyes became heavy with what felt like sleep. It was then that I realized I was resting upon the ground, my body numb to everything. No songs or dances could be found upon the wind, no waves of energy shifted toward me.


Where was Willow? Where was...

"Wesley," I spoke, seeing him approach me. I was humbled before him, yet for once it did not matter. There was something within his eyes as he stared at me, and I could not place it. Pity? Fear that he would finally lose the only thing left that reminded him of his lost love?

"Cain is dead. I have... completed my quest at last." My quest for vengeance, true, but I was uncertain of my other one - to understand. To seek. To find.

I attempted to stand, but found I could not move, save my arms slightly. My left hand rose toward him, my eyes locked to his. "I shall be dead in minutes." I pondered my next words carefully.

"Do not... leave me. Yet. I stayed with you after Vail... stay."

((Open to Wesley))
not_the_shell: (stargirl1785 - flame/anger)
I was simply watching the store for Willow while she slept. It was unusually quiet, the waves of energy I normally felt were silent. Walking about as Fred, examining the various objects within the store suddenly the screams within my mind were loud - far too loud.

I spun to the door and saw a few mortals approaching. Dressed in black, the vermin attempted to crash through the door but I opened it quickly before they could break anything.

Nothing of Willow's would ever be broken again.

They held puny weapons, waving them about as if I should be terrified of them somehow. I simply watched as they then attempted to brush past me into the store. My form shifted immediately as I turned to catch the first of them.

I counted six altogether. They were defeated within less than a minute... I was kind. They were left alive.

"Who are you? Why do you wish harm upon Willow?" I asked the first I had caught, his consciousness slipping quickly from his bloody form. I shook him roughly a few times. "Do not fade from me, mortal, you will speak!!!"

His eyes blinked open and shut... open and shut... one word whispered from his lips before he was lost to me and I dropped his still form - alive, but useless to me now - to the floor in disgust.

Looking about the shop, I was thankful that it had been I and not Willow here when the intruders had arrived. Willow kept that dark part of herself hidden, yet it was too soon for me to do the same. I embraced it if needed... and it had been needed today. Her anger might have been great, but not as great as my ruthlessness.

I dragged the bodies out of the store and deposited them unceremoniously into a nearby alleyway.

Are you proud, Wesley? They live. They live, just as Faith and Lilah do.

Resuming Fred's shape, I returned to the store and cleaned everything so it would appear nothing had occurred when Willow joined me later. Perhaps I would tell her, perhaps not. Did it truly matter? I was angry, but unsurprised - just as she would be.

The one word whispered to me was, after all, "Cain..."
not_the_shell: (Default)
Wesley was not my guide. Cain was my enemy. Willow was my friend. These were constants in my universe as I had come to know it, and yet it seemed as though it was tested daily as my new humanity blossomed.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months... A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. )

I returned to the television, held the remote in my hands, and watched the death. Again. And again. And again.

Wesley was not the only one who had died that day. Perhaps I had, as well...
not_the_shell: (Default)
Illyria - noun. The location for the setting of William Shakespeare's play, Twelfth Night, also known as What You Will. An actual location off the coast of the Adriatic Sea in what is known today as Albania.

- O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou,
That notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there,
Of what validity and pitch so'er,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute.

Orsino's opening meditation on his unrequited love for Olivia encompasses some of the most famous lines and images in the whole Shakespeare canon. Unlike his early comedies, Shakespeare also strikes some discordant notes in Twelfth Night, including a conception of love and other themes that are not part of the conventional romantic comedy formula. Thus, for example, the subject of insanity surfaces as a salient theme and as a force within the plot. Indeed, while Twelfth Night concludes with tandem weddings, Shakespeare also speaks about the madness of love.



I find this odd. I have searched this book, and yet the references made to myself are few and far between, save for this excerpt which does not describe me at all. Wesley has chosen to research the meaning of my name instead of the meaning of me. He continues to elude my understanding.

Madness of love... perhaps he speaks of his own madness? I am uncertain. Changes swim around me and I feel as though I am drowning, clawing towards the surface of water that I shall never reach.

Perhaps if I did, I would be able to murder Cain and be done with this life.

Wesley speaks as though he wishes to guide me, yet he fails to guide himself. I walked this world without him - mourning his death and gleaning what I could from the mortals around me. I have no need for a guide! Not any longer.

I believe, perhaps, what I need is a confidante... something which Wesley - at the moment - cannot provide.

Willow left a flower for me, and I shuddered in pity for it. Already near death, pulled from its roots and left alone in this world just as I was. There will be no saving it, yet... I was compelled to place it near Spike in the hopes that the two would be able to assist the other in living out what is left of their existence.

I grow weary of Wesley and his indecisions, of this world that will not allow me to kill as I choose to do so... it must end soon.

And so I write my name at the end of this passage, wondering if this 'Shakespeare' Wesley wrote of stole it from me, seeking to take power from my name as everyone else I have met thus far has attempted to do.

- Illyria
not_the_shell: (lollobrigida - liestruth)
My eyes had shut, but my mind was whirling.

A revelation, truly, was all I could think of what had occurred. Yet, Wesley was oblivious to it all. Tomorrow night, the lie would continue and during the day, we would seek to battle demons and half-breeds, trying uselessly to convince ourselves that these lives we led had some meaning.

There was always the love that reeked off him, yet now it was covering me as well. Surely he saw? Surely he could feel, could sense it?

No. No, he would lie to himself and to his so-called comrades. The vampires would not care, but the seer would. She had come to take him away, to pull him from me and remind him of the truth, of Fred.

Did they not all understand that what he adored never existed?

I stood and walked slowly to the veranda, breathing in the air with my eyes shut as my own form returned, the brown curls replaced by long waves of blue. If I chose, I could be Fred for him forever - always, even in the daylight when untruths were more difficult to conceal.

Yet that was not what he longed for, nor I.

He longed for a mortal he never knew, never fully understood. I understood the Shell far better than he! I knew her thoughts, feelings, memories... was there love? No. There was a glimmer, a... beginning of something that might have been, yet he clung to it as if it were his lifeline.

It would be better if he were dead than living as such.

Wesley would never see the truth of my words, though. He would condemn me, banish me from his side as further punishment to himself for his supposed failure to save the creature he believed he loved.

"Lie to me."


No, not any longer. Now that I cannot lie to myself. Whether I am lost, adrift and lonely in this world once I tell him so... I was uncertain.

Perhaps it would be best to fall to my knees without my army or guide, though, than with a crutch keeping me steady while he fell himself.

Is this what humans truly call love? Then... why?

Why was it so painful?
not_the_shell: (lollobrigida - whenhopefades)
Wesley and I had ventured out of the enclosed space that was now my home only to find arguments. I had moved away, quietly, observing it all with disinterest, until the leader by default - the Slayer - had ordered us back. Back to the room.

Back to the bed.

I waited for Wesley to begin his nightly poisoning of his body as I sat patiently on the bed. The words would come this time; he had deemed it so earlier this day. If they did not, then...

Then I was uncertain. I would speak the words he wanted me to say, certainly, yet... I was done. Tired. This untruth was pointless for us both, yet he ignored that.

No. No, I would be lying to myself if I were to believe the lie meant nothing to me.

I watched his movements, mentally counting how long it would take him this time to speak to me. He so loved to ignore my presence if at all possible; I was not blind to that fact. Yet the silence was as deafening as the screams within me from earlier.

My mouth opened, then clamped shut as I forced the words I was about to ask back down my throat, swallowing them silently. I turned my eyes from his form slowly, and waited.

I had become quite good at waiting, I was told by my guide.
not_the_shell: (iconifer - futureisyourown)
I noticed a slight change in the air surrounding Spike, and could only assume that the witch had sent some sorcery upon him to aid in his survival. Perhaps I had been hasty in thinking her a murderer.

I was most thankful to finally speak with the mortal known as 'Giles', since he provided useful information to me at last.

A Meeting of Wills )

It shall be most intriguing once Wesley returns...
not_the_shell: (Default)
((Continued from HERE))

"So Wesley, hoping to remember. And you kissed him back, wanting to discover."

I considered her words carefully before deciding that it was, possibly, the trth of the matter. "Perhaps," was all I said before placing the box down and holding the spoon in my hand, moving it about and looking at it before placing it alongside the box.

"When two people kiss looking to find very different things within said kiss, it can get confusing. Painfully hard even. Does that make any sense?"

"Yes," I answered, "yet I see you feel the need somehow to explain this to me. I understand the mechanics of kissing. Fred's memories are quite clear on that subject. I merely wished to experience it myself, not rely upon the latent ones within this vessel."

Willow, at least, appeared comfortable speaking with me. With Wesley gone, that was a small blessing, since there would be no other way for me to learn what I needed about my foe or about humans. I eyed the witch carefully, reminding myself to study her more completely later...

"To a Sunnydale gal not so much at all, not that that means anything to you. But to be fair about the Wesley point, he seems to unsettle you too."

"I..." Yet the words failed me as she somehow saw through and found within my soul the emptiness there filled only when speaking with Wesley. "Yes. Though, why that is so, I cannot fathom," I whispered.

This was troubling. If I could not understand myself, how could I hope to understand others?

"I don't."

"Then how do you survive? How do you live, move on, walk amongst others lower than you knowing the truth?" I felt as if I were attacking her, ripping apart her words piece by piece.

Perhaps I was.

((Open to Willow))
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