A Brief History of Time
Los Angeles: a month ago
Pretty much this:
Los Angeles: two weeks ago
They come, they're coming, as they've come a thousand times over, the half-breeds and their green demon clown, and Wesley with a gun in his hand.
"She's come unstuck in time, Wes," Angel says, though Illyria's barely there to hear him. "She knows what happens. She's seen it. She knows we want to kill her."
Flash as pain doubles her in half. She stands in their science lab, clutching her middle, as if the shell will crack and she'll come pouring out unless she just. holds. on.
"Illyria." The vampire speaks her name as if he has some right. "I know what happens. I know you kill us all. And then you shudder, and you convulse with pain, and then the power inside you explodes. I have to stop that. Do you understand? I cannot have your death blow away my--"
"Your kingdom?" she lashes out, the dust of her own still bitter as acid on her tongue. "You ask me to allow you to murder me."
"It's not murder if you say yes." Ever-practical Spike. I slew the white-haired one first.
And Wesley with a gun in his hand. "No one is murdering you. This device won't kill you."
"What?" Angel, almost comic in his confusion. "You said--"
"I lied. Illyria, this device will draw the energy away from you safely. It will allow you to live."
"You want to take my power... to let me live. But I am my power. And I would rather be a titanic crater than to be like unto you."
"The future can change here. You can choose a different path." Must they scrape at her ears from all sides?
And Wesley, with a gun in his hand.
"You would do this to me?" Betrayal or the ashes of love? Either way it tastes as foul.
"I'd try anyway. Every time."
It burns. Her self, it burns and screams. "I possess so much grace, more grace than this bag of sticks could express. I was the immaculate embodiment of rule." And it's found a crack. The light spills through her cheek. Her arms. Her-- "I blame this on the weakness of your species."
"Fair enough." And Wesley, with a gun in his hand.
This time, she lets him fire.
*
When she's curled on the floor with a hole in herself that only she can feel, he's there with her name on his lips. "Illyria?"
"Touch me and die, vermin." What. What.
Her voice. Lighter. Higher. Her suit as she shifts to stare at him, loose even on the bag of sticks.
"What. This body is even smaller than before."
"Fre--" But that dies in Angel's mouth. The hand she lifts to stare at is still tinged with blue, just... smaller. Softer.
Wesley reaches unheeding to touch her face. "Well. That was...unexpected."
"What have you done to me?"
"Bloody hell, she's a kid!"
"Hardly that, Spike. Perhaps sixteen at the youngest." That's Wesley's hand on her skin, and she isn't biting it off and spitting it down his throat.
She's just... shuddering. Because it's cold in here, and he's warm. Or something. And she's leaning her face against his--
"What have you done to me?"
+++
[OOC: NFI yadda yadda fishcakes, OOC yadda yadda smileyface. Warning: embedded video, cloying folk music, character death, gratuitous use of someone else's songvid as a plot re-cap, overly poetic narrative. Large portions of dialogue taken from Angel 5x19, Time Bomb.]
Pretty much this:
Click to viewLos Angeles: two weeks ago
They come, they're coming, as they've come a thousand times over, the half-breeds and their green demon clown, and Wesley with a gun in his hand.
"She's come unstuck in time, Wes," Angel says, though Illyria's barely there to hear him. "She knows what happens. She's seen it. She knows we want to kill her."
Flash as pain doubles her in half. She stands in their science lab, clutching her middle, as if the shell will crack and she'll come pouring out unless she just. holds. on.
"Illyria." The vampire speaks her name as if he has some right. "I know what happens. I know you kill us all. And then you shudder, and you convulse with pain, and then the power inside you explodes. I have to stop that. Do you understand? I cannot have your death blow away my--"
"Your kingdom?" she lashes out, the dust of her own still bitter as acid on her tongue. "You ask me to allow you to murder me."
"It's not murder if you say yes." Ever-practical Spike. I slew the white-haired one first.
And Wesley with a gun in his hand. "No one is murdering you. This device won't kill you."
"What?" Angel, almost comic in his confusion. "You said--"
"I lied. Illyria, this device will draw the energy away from you safely. It will allow you to live."
"You want to take my power... to let me live. But I am my power. And I would rather be a titanic crater than to be like unto you."
"The future can change here. You can choose a different path." Must they scrape at her ears from all sides?
And Wesley, with a gun in his hand.
"You would do this to me?" Betrayal or the ashes of love? Either way it tastes as foul.
"I'd try anyway. Every time."
It burns. Her self, it burns and screams. "I possess so much grace, more grace than this bag of sticks could express. I was the immaculate embodiment of rule." And it's found a crack. The light spills through her cheek. Her arms. Her-- "I blame this on the weakness of your species."
"Fair enough." And Wesley, with a gun in his hand.
This time, she lets him fire.
*
When she's curled on the floor with a hole in herself that only she can feel, he's there with her name on his lips. "Illyria?"
"Touch me and die, vermin." What. What.
Her voice. Lighter. Higher. Her suit as she shifts to stare at him, loose even on the bag of sticks.
"What. This body is even smaller than before."
"Fre--" But that dies in Angel's mouth. The hand she lifts to stare at is still tinged with blue, just... smaller. Softer.
Wesley reaches unheeding to touch her face. "Well. That was...unexpected."
"What have you done to me?"
"Bloody hell, she's a kid!"
"Hardly that, Spike. Perhaps sixteen at the youngest." That's Wesley's hand on her skin, and she isn't biting it off and spitting it down his throat.
She's just... shuddering. Because it's cold in here, and he's warm. Or something. And she's leaning her face against his--
"What have you done to me?"
+++
[OOC: NFI yadda yadda fishcakes, OOC yadda yadda smileyface. Warning: embedded video, cloying folk music, character death, gratuitous use of someone else's songvid as a plot re-cap, overly poetic narrative. Large portions of dialogue taken from Angel 5x19, Time Bomb.]