daylightfadings Let it flow
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.
((Open))
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.
((Open))