tampered | Log: Complete

Current Mood: discontent

Log: Complete

When: Jan 19th, at night
Rating: PG?
Characters: Illyria [

tasteofgrief] and anyone who would like to meet her.
Summary: In the midst of battle with Wolfram and Hart, Illyria finds herself removed to a place as foreign to her as Los Angeles was. SPOILER WARNING for Angel series finale ... Who am I kidding? Illyria's practically a walking, talking spoiler herself.
Log:

The battle was fierce, almost worthy of Illyria's power in her greatest form--a form that she had been robbed of through Wesley's science.

Wesley was dead.

The thought echoed in her very being as she fought the horde sent by Wolfram and Hart, trying to keep the others alive thanks to the growing cancer of human sentiment within her. She thrust her gloved fingers into a demon's chest, intent on ripping out its heart before crushing its spine ...

... and then the demon was no longer there. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that she was no longer there. The alley had disappeared, along with the battle and her small, struggling group of allies. Instead, there were quiet streets and a glittering fountain.

Illyria scowled and shook the blood from her hands.

Wesley was dead, and now there was nothing to kill to vent her grief.

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Agent Mulder was walking back from Cafe Juliet with a bag of donuts.
He had a cruller in his mouth, not bitten, just holding it there with his teeth, as he reached into the papersack to see if they'd provided him with napkins, when he noticed something- or someone rather, ahead.

A girl in maroon leather, with blue hair.
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared, forgetting entirely he had a confection hanging from his lips. This wasn't something you saw everyday.

A human was staring at her, and a ridiculous-looking one at that. He had a sickly-sweet confection hanging from his lips. Illyria vaguely recalled that Fred had liked pastries, shared them with Wesley and Gunn in the office. The stolen memory displeased her.

Soaked to the bone with blood and rainwater (and grief ... it clung to her like oil), Illyria nevertheless leveled an intimidating glare at the man before her. "You. Tell me what this place is." She instintively knew that he had not brought her here. He did not have that kind of power.

"vvvhh mrriii?" It took Mulder a moment to realize you couldn't talk through donuts, not and remain intelligible.
He took the cruller out of his mouth and hastily replaced it in the bag.

"They call this place 'the City'. I have no idea what city, or where it is, because no one has been able to tell me, either.
Are...are you hurt?" He had noticed the blood now, and did not know it was not hers.

Typical human. He did not recognize a thing even when he was staring straight at it. Illyria had come to respect Angel and his associates, to care for them, but that same consideration did not extend to the rest of their species (human, vampire, or lesser demon). "This blood is not my own," she informed him coldly, but his question had stirred another disturbing thought.

Was she hurt? The emotion she had felt for Wesley upon his death was not pleasant to experience, and she had become familiar with the human expression "hurt feelings". Was this what they meant?

"Oh. I see...oh." Mulder wondered for a moment if he had thought to strap on his gun before leaving the house.

Killings and maimings happened all the time in this city, and he had already been eyewitness to a few of them.

He looked up and down the street hoping if he had just walked into danger there was at least someone might come to his aid.

"Well..." he added, a bit nervously, "good luck with that then, I guess."

Times were in the past Mulder would never have let such a thing go unstopped, unpunished.
He was an FBI agent, trained in dealing with violent criminals.

Problem was, thus far in his time in the City he'd neither been able to take anything that had attacked him nor, apparently, was violent crime seen as anything other than commonplace and not worth preventing.

He was, wasn't he? He was going to walk away from this.
Provided the woman would let him go by...

"I am not finished with you," the old one responded tersely. "You will answer my other questions." She did not stop to think that, perhaps, she could not order this man as she had ordered her armies and the groveling beasts at her feet in ages past.

Tilting her head ever-so-slightly to the side, Illyria noted, "You are not a qwa'ha xahn, but you will do. I wish to know who holds the power to bring me here. Was it the Wolf, Ram and Hart?"

A qwa'ha xahn? Mulder had no idea what she was talking about, but as he wasn't armed with anything more spectacular than a bag of donuts, he wasn't about to argue with a crazy lady.

"The Wolf, Ram and Hart?" Odd, Mulder thought, he actually was sure he had heard of a law firm with a simular name, operated on the West Coast. "No...more like the um... well, I don't know what any of them are called, but there are gods here.

No one likes them very much. They seem to enjoy throwing around random curses and having drills for armaggedons that come to nothing more than parades and light shows.

That's pretty much all I know. Except..."

A niggling little worm of a nasty idea was playing around in Mulder's mind.
At this point he was more than fed up with the local cult. Perhaps, if this was some formidable warrior woman he could steer her towards them and finally take a break from it all...

Illyria narrowed her eyes. What was the human playing at? There was something in his expression that she recognized, something she did not trust.

"If you know more, then speak. I have little patience for your kind."

"Right. My kind..." another not-human, he thought, and all but rolled his eyes. Instead he looked heavenward, although gods were the one thing he did not believe in, perhaps in his own way praying for a little patience.
Finally, he looked at her and said,
"That way. You go a few miles, and there is a forest.
Towards the water there is a mansion.
In the mansion there is a cult, and residing with them is their god. But the way is fraught with peril...some warrior in a triangular mask may try to stop you. Still. I'm pretty sure if any evil forces might have...redirected you from whatever it is you're supposed to be doing, it would be them."

There, he thought, let Xuchilbara chew on that for awhile..

The Old One stared at him for a long time. Was the man stupid, or simply insane? How dare he speak to her in such a fashion? How dare he be so casual? So flippant? The grief the had settled beneath her skin made her unstable. Her world was gone. Her guide was gone. Now her allies were gone ... and this man dared to mock her.

Only a few short weeks ago, Illyria might have killed the man where he stood, but human concepts of honor and morality had infected her. She stayed her hand. "I will consider your words," she said. "You may go."

Adeline was in Hell. Hell with a capital ‘H’, Hell. The Hell that sinners went to, the kind so vile they didn’t deserve a capital anything, Hell. Adeline was in Hell.

The odd thing was, she couldn’t remember dying.But that had little to do with anything- she was in Hell!

Another question- where were the demons? And the fire? And the brimstone? Adeline had always imagined Hell to be more Milton-esque.

And then- Oh, blessed virgin- a girl with blue hair... and a blue forehead? A demon! Adeline was in Hell!

A bad habit Adeline had- to speak in German when confused, “Ein blauer Dämon!” It was the language of official ceremonies, to remind France of its failure. On second thought, it fit so well here, “Oh-, Gott oben!”

Adeline was in Hell.

A more human creature would have rolled its eyes or sighed, but Illyria merely expressed her discontent by fixing a hard stare on the panicking creature. If this was to be her reception in this city, then perhaps she should alter her form to spare herself the tedium of dealing with frightened humans.

"If you do not cease your cries, then you truly will have a reason to fear."

And it spoke English! Knowing Adeline's luck so far, it would be a demon from England,"Mes excuses..." A slip of the toungue-

"I... apologize."

"Better." Illyria's gaze swept over the woman from head to foot, then shifted away dismissively. "You are more respectful than the other one. Do you have useful knowledge of this place?"

"Eh..." Why would this creature not know of its home? Another test to vex the faithfull, obviously. The demon- upon better inspection- was female. A very attractive female, Adeline thought- but no, it was wrong! It was wrong!

"I know little, creature."

"Then you are of no use to me." Humans were truly a vexing species, and though she contained pieces of Winifred Burkle within her, Illyria did not understand them. There were times when she wondered if she ever would. "Your fear is palpable. Why do you linger?"

"This is Hell," Maybe this demon was stupid, "I would rather take my punishment now... sooner than later."

Illyria openly scoffed at that. "Foolish human. This is not Hell. I have known each of the dimensions your kind has given that name, and this place is none of them. If it were, I would not be your executioner."

What was this creature talking about? She had been to different Hells? Maybe this was like Dante's, then, with different levels... odd, "I see," Still, military training said not to back down, "Then what is this?" Not that she believed the creature, of course.

"You would be better served to ask the one who has just passed by. He has been here longer than I, evidently." Illyria marveled at how humans held so much power over their own world, had created so many things unthought of in her time, and yet remained so very ignorant as to the nature of reality. Though a lesser species, they had evolved alongside demons. They should have had ample opportunity to learn of heaven and hell beyond the ridiculously simplified definitions they seemed to have adopted.

"Who?" In her confusion, Adeline had missed Mulder. She had been missing a great deal of things- making no one proud.

Still- gaining confedence in disbelief and ange she pressed the demon, "And who are you?"

"There was a human man. He stared, as you did, but did not carry on so."

Suddenly, Illyria had a feeling that she was going to swiftly grow tired of introducing herself. It had not been necessary when she was a ruler, and the need to do so within Angel's small kingdom had faded quickly. "I am Illyria."

"Ah, I missed him..."

"I am..." Should she tell this demon her name? Did it really matter? "Adeline" Simply her nickname would suffice.

Another human who did not recognize her name. Illyria turned her back on the woman and stared into the darkness of the streets. "If you have no useful information to share, then we are finished here."

The odd creature was lying, maybe. But Adeline wanted to be rid of the demon. "Vous êtes grossier." She mumbled, before turning her back on the blue creature.

Now... to find some gunning equiptment. Even in Hell, she needed gunning equiptment.

"Great." Mulder brightened when she decided to let him move on, "well. As I said before, good luck with all that..."
He noticed the woman speaking German and considered warning her she was approaching a dangerous wacko but...this was supposed to be his day off.

And? Sadly, Mulder was beginning to lose faith in his abilities in this place. He was ceasing to care anymore.

Living in a city, they say, will make you jaded...

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Log: Complete

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