log; complete

[discessum.livejournal.com]

When; Tuesday, May 19th [Late Evening].
Rating; PG
Characters; Wesley [discessum] & Illyria [ancient_smurf].
Summary; After capturing Marishka with Angel and Faith, Wesley recovers and Illyria shows up to rant at him about it.
Log;

ILLYRIA; The noise of that half-breed creature they brought back annoyed and Illyria was unlocking the door to Wesley's apartment, keen on getting an explanation. While she did not like the ticking, she would rather have no company than the wrong sort - in other words, she was not pleased. The key turned without issues - Illyria, reduced to gaining access in such a pathetic manner. Just another social rule, something else that she had to learn to accept. She walked in without announcing her presence, hearing the shower run. No point in asking for his attention, then - he would just send her away, embarrassed by her presence.

Instead, she shut the door behind her with an audible 'thud' and walked to the window, waiting for him to be done with his shower. She was not patient tonight.


WESLEY; It wasn't a very long shower, mostly because it was late and he didn't want the running water to awaken Rose if she was asleep. But the hot water was a relief, given that he could no longer generate his own body heat, and his muscles were sore from the fight. It was quite hilarious, really. Wesley no longer needed air or food, but he could still get so easily worn out.

Though he might have been classified as undead at this point, he hadn't gained any advantages that vampires did. Not that it was something he craved, really. Lack of a soul and a thirst for blood was not a very appealing sales pitch. Though apparently they got claws and wings in certain dimensions. Even Angel's pure vampire form in Pylea hadn't been so alarming.

Even through the streaming water, Wesley could hear a door shut somewhere in the apartment, and since he didn't hear Rose call out a hello in passing, it was easy to guess who it was. There was a wry smile on his face as he got out of the shower and toweled off. No doubt Illyria had discovered the latest visitor to the mansion's wine cellar.

As he pulled on a worn pair of jeans, Wesley turned to eye his minor injuries in the mostly fogged mirror. His shoulder and back needed some bandaging, but at least it was nothing too serious. He let Illyria wait a minute longer while he knocked back some aspirin from the medicine cabinet and gave himself a moment or two to regain his bearings.

Finishing drying off his hair, Wesley pulled open the bathroom door to glance around the dim apartment in an attempt to locate her. Spotting her silhouette by the living room's balcony window, he flipped off the bathroom light, leaving the apartment bathed in nothing but the moonlight. It was late, and he didn't have to look at the clock to know that dawn wasn't far off.

"Not pleased with your new guest, I gather?"


ILLYRIA; She turned at the sound of his voice. He had kept her waiting - she had listened for the sound of the running water, noticed its termination - and still, nothing. At the sight of him, new bruises visible to her eyes despite the weak lightening of the room, she felt a pang of... something. Another human emotion - worry? No, not entirely. It was tinged with annoyance, a new sort that she did not really want to pay attention to.

Instead, she said, "It is a disturbance. I wish to kill it, even if it won't last." Her eyes narrowed. "You were hurt bringing it in. Why did you bother?"
It was a useless creature, the half-breed demon in the cellar. Bringing it in served no visible purpose, other than to anger it and make it screech and complain, like a fly, caught in a spider's web.


WESLEY; A light shake of his head was offered before he turned to lead the way into his room. It wasn't like most people's rooms. He took no care to decorate it. It still had the furniture it came with, and though he'd kept it well organized when first moving in, it was now littered with texts, papers pinned to the walls and books no longer able to fit onto their shelves. The faint scent of whiskey and cologne apparent throughout - and something else you could only recognize when opening up an old book.

His bloodied shirt was tossed onto his overflowing hamper in passing before he sat on the edge of his bed and reached into his nightstand to pull out some ointment and bandages.

"Things are different here. It doesn't help to just kill demons now, since that would just put it back on the street a day later even angrier than before. Until we can figure out what to do with it, we need to keep it somewhere. Angel and I will take separate shifts so we can keep an eye on her. The police might know what to do."


ILLYRIA; Following him, her steps soundless against the floor, she manoeuvred flawlessly between the texts and books strewn across the room before coming to a stop by the bed. She looked down at him, sitting there, small and human and altogether too vulnerable to exist.

"Thus, you hurt yourself doing nothing but assuring a temporary solution to an insignificant problem. It is a demon like many others - what made it different?"

While it was obviously not a weak vampire, it was nothing of interest. The wings were the only curious thing about it and even that did not keep her fascinated for very long. Demons varied across dimensions - she had seen stranger, stronger creatures.


WESLEY; With a sigh out of habit, Wesley switched on the lamp beside his bed before treating the shoulder wound, murmuring, "This one saw fit to announce that she was going hunting on the Network. I wasn't going to just let her prance about and make a meal out of some innocent person."

He shot her a glance before he ripped off some bandage tape to cover up the cuts. "I guess you aren't used to seeing me get into many fights. Things were...different for me at Wolfram & Hart. But we used to do this sort of thing all the time, and these injuries are fairly minor. So long as my head and limbs are still attached, I'd call it a good day. It's not as if I'm a super being like you lot."


ILLYRIA; She watched him treat the wound on his shoulder, the light from the lamp a sudden intrusion in the otherwise dim atmosphere of the room. Blinking once to adjust her sight, she sat down on the bed, a respectable distance between them. She felt cheated somehow, as if... as if he went and did this, got hurt and came back, and made her feel something for no reason whatsoever.

"This, only to protect people from death." She looked away, watching the shadows stretch across the room, feeling restless. "They will die all the same. It is a worthless practice, saving vermin so they can gain a few more, empty years of living."

Her voice was only rising by a small margin. But she was not doing anything to hide her agitation, even if she did not know what had caused it, exactly.


WESLEY; Her words didn't quite sting like they once did, simply because he was so used to it. Her generalization of humans and any demon beneath her - which of course was every demon - was simply an every day thing now. He only bothered paying attention to the insults when they were directed at him specifically or someone he knew.

"Empty in your eyes, perhaps. But not all humans live like me. Many of them lead rich lives back home, I'm sure. And if they die in this piss poor excuse of a city, then they're trapped forever. Or so I hear. Saving them from that... It's what we do. You know that." Wesley's voice strained a bit as he tried to reach his upper back, but it was futile, and there was no way he was going to risk asking her for help, so he gave up and dumped the bandages back into the drawer.

"It never bothered you before. Or are you just irritated because this particular demon screams like a banshee and speaks like an infant?"


ILLYRIA; She noticed his difficulties but ignored them. His words annoyed her, the way he was missing the point even though he was supposed to understand this, to teach her what it meant. Humans discovered importance and enjoyment in strange places - she already knew this. They had nowhere else to turn to for inspiration.

"I cannot say why it bothers me." She stared off into the darkness for a few seconds before continuing. "The demon is nothing. I have seen much more intriguing creatures in my time."

Something struck her and she looked at him, head cocked. "You could have asked me for help, defeating the demon. It would have gone quicker if you had. Yet, you did not." Her stare grow more intense. "Why?"


WESLEY; There was hesitation at her inquiry before he shut the drawer and opened the cabinet beneath to rummage through his bottles. At this rate he really didn't care if he bled on his sheets, so long as he had something to drink. Blood stains were just another part of the job and all.

"I didn't know where you were, and we were in a hurry. I honestly didn't think we needed your help, since it was just a vampire." There was a clink as Wesley found the bottle of Macallan and poured some into the glass he'd used earlier that day. The bottle was sat next to his alarm clock which he refused to look at before picking up the glass for a sip.

"Besides, after your last visit to my office, it seemed like it would be a mistake to ask you for a favor so soon. If I thought it was going to be a much more dangerous demon, I would have found you."


ILLYRIA; Another bottle of poison. She still did not understand the appeal of it. The smell alone was horrid and sharp, like something that would burn upon ingestion. His explanation made sense to her, though her anger had depleted quickly after the event. She did not hold grudges - few things were important enough for that.

"You did not go alone. Your companions were stronger than you." She thought back upon the insolent girl, the way she seemed to hold no regard for Wesley despite the nature of their relationship. "Did the human fight without her weapons this time as well, since you had to interfere?"

She was getting closer the root of her annoyance - she could feel it, hot and just a bit painful, charring beneath her skin. She did not wish to succumb to it, but understanding it better might make it easier to deal with.


WESLEY; "No, she had her weapons. This wasn't really training. But it was still an experience. I was mostly just there to be the bait and distract it." A glance to the shotgun peeking out of his closet as he shifted on the bed to carefully ease back to lean against his stacked pillows, and he winced, but barely.

"Unusual for you to ask about the well-being of others," he muttered curiously as he took another drink, then stopped midway, almost forgetting to swallow as something occurred to him. It burned his throat and almost gave him the illusion of warmth as he looked at her. Wesley suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and he suspected why.

"Are you frustrated that I was hurt, or that she was there instead of you when it happened?"


ILLYRIA; She studied him, processing the question and feeling some of her tenseness ebb away. He was doing it, finally; he was making it explicit, this strange range of emotions that confused her and made her feel like there was still something left for her to learn.

"It is a bit of both." It was not a pleasant discovery. Those were dead glimmers of motivation and feelings, fragments that should not belong to this body anymore. Yet they did, right or wrong not withstanding. "I... do not care for her presence."

A ridiculous sentiment. It was a human girl - she should not matter in any way. Intolerable human flaws, coloring her perception.


WESLEY; He slowly lowered his glass to rest against a lifted knee, finger tapping against the edge while he thought for a moment. Wesley often wondered what it was to trigger these emotions in Illyria, distant as they were. She never had such problems when she ruled. So either it was the human influence around her, or it was what was now in her. Though Fred was dead and gone, perhaps those memories left more of an imprint than he originally thought.

It was...disturbing to think that. Especially remembering what Angel told him of the future. He couldn't let them happen here.

"That's called jealousy. It must be because you know I'm trying to guide her, much like I am you." It had to be that, anyway, because any other reason would be too disturbing for him to consider. Despite her previous attempt at seducing him, she only did that out of curiosity. She wasn't even a woman, really. These tendencies... Maybe it was Fred in turn infecting her.

What poetic justice. Really.


ILLYRIA; She rose abruptly. Sitting still no longer suited her - she remembered this feeling, wanting to act and change, a response to a challenge. Old days, far gone... but she remembered.

Now, she could do nothing in response to it. She could not conquer anything, everything that made her actions possible was gone and turned to dust.

"Jealousy. It is laughable." She paced the room once, stepping on papers in the process and caring little about them. "I have no need for you. You are... a human, a source of guidance, an advisor... nothing more." Coming to a stop in front of the bed, she stared him down, thinking about striking that glass and spilling its contents onto the floor.

"This... connection. I want it out of me. I want it gone." And then, the realization, softly spoken as she averted her gaze. "And yet, I don't."


WESLEY; A bitter laugh escaped him, quiet and raw. "That makes two of us. How horrifying it must be for you to find yourself on common ground with me." In a mock cheers, he held his glass up in her direction before tipping it to finish the scotch off.

Horrifying for them both, really. He'd told Angel himself that he didn't love this thing, but he needed it. And Angel was right. It was weird. Bizarre. Abnormal. Even twisted. But that seemed to sum up everything in relation to his life these days. Up was down and nothing made sense. Illyria's presence pained him always, made his heart twist in his chest, and occasionally gave him a headache. But even when he drank too much liquor and found himself spitting insults at her that he'd later forget, he felt empty when she was gone.

She was all that was left, and so he would cling to it. Pathetic and weak. ...At least he could accept that.


ILLYRIA; Common ground? There was nothing like it between them - nothing at all. Illyria did not share anything with a mere human being; except past and present were no longer congruent. This body, this shell belonged to her only because she was revived into it. As he told her once, she belonged in the Well, sleeping through this age of human rulers and pitiful dreams.

"We are both unlucky," she said, supporting herself on the bed as she bowed her head, her hair falling past her chin and casting her face in shadows. "Wishing for greater things... It was easier before."


WESLEY; His jaw set while he thought on that, watching the dark amber liquid fill the glass halfway before the bottle rested once more. "Easier? I wouldn't say that." The glass felt comfortable in his hand and against his lips. Another unhealthy vice, but you couldn't get more unhealthy than death, could you?

"It was simpler though, at one point. Almost feels like it could have been a dream. How I used to think. What I used to do. At least I can understand why I've changed. But you..." Wesley eyed her. "You can't even understand enough to name what you feel. You look at this world, or shall I say the previous world we occupied, and recognized nothing. It's new. For me..."

He shut his eyes. "It's lackluster and worn. I'm very tired of looking at it."


ILLYRIA; She looked up at his last words, trying to make sense of the vague emotional signals she was getting from him. It was difficult - nothing clear-cut, nothing understandable. He was partly right - she was new to their world, this one as well - and everything puzzled her.

However.

"You would prefer blindness to experience?" She tried to imagine knowing too much, being too used to everything and finding it lacking. A necessary limitation for humans, yes. They - and she - had nowhere to go when the old lost its appeal.


WESLEY; He shook his head, opening his eyes just enough to see her, but his lids were heavy. His lack of sleep the past couple weeks was finally catching up to him, and the night's activities weren't leaving him any better off.

"What I prefer... Does it matter? If I had a choice in my fate, things would be very different. And perhaps I wouldn't be so tired. I'm not sorry for the things I know. Knowing and being aware is what makes us more than mere animals. But I wonder if I have the energy anymore. And still, I keep searching. In the hopes that my knowledge will one day bring me to a different place. A more bearable place. Or at the very least...a more useful place."

Wesley let his gaze drift down to the mostly empty glass. "As fellow knowledge seekers, I think we're doomed to remain discontent. Knowledge rarely brings peace, Illyria. But I suppose that was never one of your goals. That would be power. And that...is also something knowledge can bring. But it's not something you can get from me."


ILLYRIA; She listened, tried to take in his words. But they were strangely muddled sentences that made little sense to her. He had drunk too much whiskey again - or at least, he would if he kept this up for a little while longer. She did not think much of it, except that he confused her which, in turn, made her frustrated.

"Your choices are so limited. Hopes are weak mental constructions, words and phrases put together. Assuming a meaning that this existence does not hold." She sat down again, close to his feet, feeling tired despite having no need for sleep.

"I do not wish to delude myself in such a manner. Still, I wonder if it is the only way to endure, piecing bits of knowledge together to seek a more valuable whole."

Power. Power was a way to endure. And she had no powers left, none of any worth. He could not give her anything because he took it all from her. She should dislike him more than she did. Should.


WESLEY; The fact that the pounding in his head was slightly less than before made it easier for him to speak. He didn't know if it was the aspirin slowly kicking in or the prior hangover settling back into comfortable inebriation, but he was grateful. It made him more weary, though, even if he didn't want to sleep. Nothing good came of sleep anymore.

Reaching up to rub at his eyes, he cleared his throat. It was a habit he'd picked up on more recently, usually when he stopped breathing for long periods and suddenly became aware of it, thus making him uncomfortable simply because of the thought.

"Adapting. Enduring. It's what we exchange for living. If you can't find something even remotely tolerable in this life, then you're reaching too high."


ILLYRIA; Feeling a strange weariness at his words, she stared off into space, wishing for her ability to count the elements in the air, to see how the world was put together and chose whether or not to care about it. Like communicating with the green, this was no longer possible for her. It was like missing a limb.

"I am Illyria," she said, mostly to herself, but also to him. "I reach higher than the sky, higher than anything - it is ambition in its clearest form." She clenched one hand into a fist, trying to expel the tension in her body and getting no real relief. "It is no longer possible. Everything is taller, too large and too small simultaneously."

She needed to leave his apartment, to watch the sky stretching above her, even if it was only a lie. She needed delusion, to a certain degree - even if she did not want it. Rising to her feet, she stood with her back to him, pausing.

"Having spent time in this human shell, I still wish for more." She turned, watching him. "You told me to change. How can I do this, when my basic traits cannot be altered? I cannot be something I am not."


WESLEY; As he watched her speak, it was clear that she was becoming stressed. Her tone was erratic, and her body tense. Her words only made it more clear. The walls were once again closing in on her. Wesley assumed she would be tearing out of his apartment and up to the roof any moment now. Normally he would follow, but the idea alone of trekking up there made his back twinge in pain.

Not tonight. His body couldn't keep up with his mind tonight.

"You're already changing, Illyria. Can't you see that?" Wesley was careful in his wording. He didn't want her becoming over emotional and wrecking more of his furniture, or worse, collapsing time and space itself. Angel said that Gunn had pushed her to do it... Wesley would need to ask how, so it could be avoided at all costs.

"Your world is dead, and in this new one, you must change to find any sense of belonging. And so you are. It's subtle in it's approach, but jars you whenever it hits. The echoes of the emotion inside you."


ILLYRIA; She tried to let his words sink in, tried to calm down and find her balance again. It worked only partly - she backed away a few steps, her movements not graceful but ragged, stumbling. She needed open spaces - not this, being locked inside a box with a human who reminded her of all her new limitations. It was intolerable.

"It is painful. Adapting is humiliating, like I am being forced further into the ground." She looked towards the doorway, prepared to leave him alone to his whiskey and his sad human fate. Their fates. "I cannot remain here. You make it worse, like a maggot, picking at the dead flesh and leaving gashes instead."


WESLEY; Like a maggot? How fitting. How eloquent. How...Illyria.

Wesley's brow furrowed as he rested his head against the wall, lifting the glass and pointing towards the door. "Then go. I'm not stopping you. But if it's the staleness of death you're trying to escape, well..." His eyes flitted over her body with a pained edge to his voice. A body that didn't belong to her, and yet there it was. Always taunting him.

"You might have trouble with that one."


ILLYRIA; She looked at him. The staleness of death. They both knew the meaning of it - of dying and trying to make do with what came after. But that word - escape - hardened her gaze and made her tone sharper. She was not a common prisoner. She refused to be so low, so worthless.

"I seek only relief. Escape is not possible, nor is it a necessity." She turned and walked out of the room, stepping on even more papers in the process and caring very little. As she strode towards the door, her steps quickened to the point where she would be running if she did not have enough self-control to keep herself in check.

She needed something to counter his words and the feeling of emptiness they left inside her. Stars and the open sky - it would bring her clarity.

It would ease.


WESLEY; He watched her go until her silhouette faded and the front door slammed, making his eyes shut forcefully once more while he reached up to rub at his temples. That headache was returning, though he couldn't blame it on sobriety this time. Dealing with Illyria was never going to get any easier. It would probably just get more and more difficult until one of them completely snapped.

Better him than her.

An odd sound made him still and listen for a moment before he lowered his hand and turned to glance at the wall. Something was scratching...through the wall? In the wall? What the...

"Damn it," he muttered, finishing his last glass for the night. On top of everything, they now had mice or something. He'd have to talk to Rose about an exterminator next chance he got.