(no subject)

Continued from Here

The kitten meows pitifuly and Illyria agrees with her.

If Wesley doesn't know what will happen once they get to New York... she is even more... what? afraid? Scared. Scared he will leave her somewhere as he wanted to leave the kitten. That she will again loose the only thing, the only person she relies on in this world. That she will be left alone. He wanted to leave Destroyer and he seems to like the cat. What chances are that he will stay with a person he hates?

Oh, he became her guide. But she knew he didn't kill her only because she looked like Fred. Only because he had a desperate hope that maybe, somehow, he will get Winifred back. Now that hope seemed to be gone. So, why was he still here? Or rather, why was she here?

The questions seemed to appear out of nowhere and she was too scared he would ask himself the same thing if she asked him. And that he would figure out the answers she wouldn't like.

Destroyer stretches on her knees and yawns, then slowly moves to sit on Wesley's lap again.
Wes Glare

(no subject)

Continued from Here

Wesley was puzzled by Illyria's facial expression. Or expressions rather. She seemed to have a whole range lately. He had noticed that, but had chosen not to mention it. He didn't want to see them. Because seeing them would mean acknowledging them, and that would mean that Illryria was more human then he'd liked to believe.

It still puzzled him. He had no idea what was going on, other then the fact that Illyria *was* beginning to become and react more and more human each day. Wesley had no doubt that she was as puzzled and confused by this as he was. And if she was, she was doing an admirable job of hiding it. Or perhaps not, she was Illyria, she was used to only a few expression and feelings. No, now that he thought about it, she had not been hiding it. The fact that she had been crying the other day should've been a clue.

A rather big one.

He was about to tell her that the dress looked nice on her when the sales lady opened her mouth. Wesley froze. Girlfriend? The body, the shell, had once upon a time been his girlfriend. His sunshine, his life, his everything. Until the thing which was now inside of her took that away. Ripped it from him violently. Plunged him into a darkness he wasn't certain he'd ever be able go get out. Or even if he wanted to crawl his way out of there.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said, his voice a mixture of anger and hurt. "I'll wait for you outside." Turning on the balls of his feet, he stalked out of the store, his mind racing as fast as his heart as beating in his chest.
Wes Glare

(no subject)

Continued from Here

Illyria had been dreaming, and Wesley was still surprised at that. He wasn't sure if those were her dreams or...Fred's. He gathered, from what little she had told him that they were her dreams and not Fred's. Still he wasn't certain and he wasn't about to ask. It still hurt to look at her, and he supposed it always would. But all they had was each other and Wesley was just going to have to deal with it.

Hard as that may be.

Leaning up on his elbows, he glanced over at her again. A small frown formed on his forehead. How do you stop nightmares? He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. If he'd know how stop those bloody nightmares, he'd have done so decades ago. "You can't," He said, turning to look at her again. "You just need to learn to live with them. Just like the rest of us." The rest of us puny humans, Wesley thought.

It must be confusing for Illyria, all these new emotions, feelings, experiences. And was she not in the least phased by this before, everything seemed to have changed after he nearly died. Was this somehow his fault? No, he doubted that. It may have triggered it sooner, but Illyria would have had to deal with them eventually. And here he was, about as unstable as ever, the only one around to help her deal with them. "Try to sleep some more," he said softly, "Usually the don't come back again in the same night." Usually.
Wes Glare

(no subject)

Continued from Here

When Wesley woke up again it was once again the smell that alerted me to the fact that, yes, he was still in the bloody hospital. Illyria had taken him there. She had been worried about him dying, apparently. The God-King having feelings? Actually emotions? There's a very frightening thought. Wesley had very little doubt that they were...left overs, from Fred.

Left overs, all that is left from her. Besides her body that is. A body that bares resemblance to Fred, but isn't her. The look in Illyria's eyes, no matter what, told him that if anything. She can copy Fred to perfection, but she will never get the eyes right. It missed the warmth Fred radiated, the love, the light that shone in her eyes. The light that is gone.

Just as all of his friends were gone. None of them survived the battle. And if they did, they did not want to be found. He thought Lorne might still be alive. Wesley suspected that the green demon didn't meet up for the fight in the alley. He could not blame him for that. Lorne was never a fighter. But Angel and Spike, he had no hopes that they survived. And he had held Gunn's dead body in his arms. He is gone for certain. Wesley could only hope they're all up there with Cordelia, having fun.

Idle hope. No matter how hard they've fought the good fight. All of them had something to atone for. There would be no heaven for them.

Turning his head, Wesley frowned when he noticed that Illyria is still in the room. Had she been here all this time? Like a guard keeping watch over her prisoner? Or is she actually worried he might do something stupid such as walking out of here. If Wesley had thought that my legs would support him, he probably would. He'd be out of there without a second thought. He hated hospitals. Sighing, he braught up his hand and rubbed his forehead. They must've downed the medication too, his body was aching far more then it did before. He wondered how they managed that. Making the pain more after they 'fixed you up'.

"Still here?" He whisper, his lips cracking a bit from being so dry.
  • Current Mood
    sore sore

Cyvus Vail's mansion

She was... concerned.
It was a strange feeling, alien, one that didn't belong to her.
She blamed the shell, as she did for all those feelings she didn't understand, didn't want, but had.

She rushed into the room, in time to see Wesley fall to his knees, clutching his side.
"Wesley," she started, helping him. "This wound can be mortal," she observed, just before Vail appeared next to her.
"So sad... and so meaningless," he said with a slight smile. "This fight was never for mortals."
She looked up at him. "True."
With one smooth movement she rose to her feet, swinging at him, the force of her blow sending him through the room and against the wall, shattering it.
She smirked at his body, then turned, kneeling beside Wesley again. "You could die," she announced, her head cocked left, her voice calm.