If heaven and hell decide, they both are satisfied
Who: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce [CLOSED]
What: A bit of development on the library
When: June 19th
Where: The library
Rating: PG 13
He had thought the library would be the perfect cover to keep those who were worrying over his mental state happy; after all, who could take on such a large task without functioning with some degree of normality?
That darkness that had consumed his soul since Fred had died, it could never be banished even with purpose, but he had seen how it affected and frightened her... and the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause her even a second of pain.
Fred.
Still the sight of her here conjured emotions so strong they would have crushed a lesser man. The soft brown of her eyes, the scent of her hair, the unconscious grace of her every movement, the intelligence and wit matched by nobody else he knew. She was effervescent, luminous and perfect. She was also dead. Not here, oh no, not here. But as a Watcher he was too deeply ingrained with the mandate of truth, to not allow himself to fall prey to illusion no matter how dearly the heart wanted it to be true. Only in his last breath had he allowed Illyria to...
Illyria.
A completely separate tangle of thorns, and one he should have been able to place aside for her lack of presence here. A blessing, for with her here there could be no Fred; and yet he missed her in a strange and twisted way. He had been all she had in this world that was not what she expected, powerless for one of her kind and dethroned, she had needed him in a way very few people had.
It was harder here in a way. He had lost the driving purposes that had kept him strong, or if not strong, at least alive. There was no great evil to fight, no emergency to respond to, and even any research he might have done to lose himself in his books was impeded by his loss of his own native language.
Add to that Cordelia, Faith, and now a Buffy that seemed so young compared to who she had become. He was so happy to see Cordelia alive, and yet that was also a joy tinged by loss. Buffy made him a little uncomfortable, to see her at that stage in life merely served to remind him of who he had been then. The young and foolish Watcher, so blind... so very blind.
All the mistakes he had made since then, the greatest of which was undoubtedly the last woman here making his thoughts swirl. Faith. His slayer. He should have been so much more for her, he had made every wrong decision he could have and they had both suffered for it. He didn't regret the decision to offer her training again here, although not for the reasons he had seemed to openly allude to.
Trust. It was a strange concept now, he had gained and lost trust for and from those he cared for the most more often than he cared to think. He had done unspeakable things and been forgiven, Faith was little different. While it was true that he would prefer her under a watchful eye in such a potentially volatile situation, he didn't exactly believe she would actually turn against them. She was attempting to make amends, just as he was.
Perhaps one of the main driving reasons he wanted her kept near, not that it would ever be admitted, was that they shared a strange kinship now. Spending time with another as broken as he was, who was also trying to mend the pieces... it could be for the best for them both.
The only people left that could truly add to the cavalcade of his mind were Delilah and Justine. If they arrived, perhaps he might believe he were in a hell dimension after all...
He didn't care what the world thought of him, not any longer, and he would have happily spent his time here in a drunken haze. But for her. It was for her that he made this effort, presented this facade and worked to maintain it. For no matter how broken into shards he had become, that one of them should ever be allowed to cut her perfect skin would be a sin unforgiveable.
That's all that mattered in the end.
[ooc: This log is part 1/2. Part 2/2 can be found here.]
What: A bit of development on the library
When: June 19th
Where: The library
Rating: PG 13
He had thought the library would be the perfect cover to keep those who were worrying over his mental state happy; after all, who could take on such a large task without functioning with some degree of normality?
That darkness that had consumed his soul since Fred had died, it could never be banished even with purpose, but he had seen how it affected and frightened her... and the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause her even a second of pain.
Fred.
Still the sight of her here conjured emotions so strong they would have crushed a lesser man. The soft brown of her eyes, the scent of her hair, the unconscious grace of her every movement, the intelligence and wit matched by nobody else he knew. She was effervescent, luminous and perfect. She was also dead. Not here, oh no, not here. But as a Watcher he was too deeply ingrained with the mandate of truth, to not allow himself to fall prey to illusion no matter how dearly the heart wanted it to be true. Only in his last breath had he allowed Illyria to...
Illyria.
A completely separate tangle of thorns, and one he should have been able to place aside for her lack of presence here. A blessing, for with her here there could be no Fred; and yet he missed her in a strange and twisted way. He had been all she had in this world that was not what she expected, powerless for one of her kind and dethroned, she had needed him in a way very few people had.
It was harder here in a way. He had lost the driving purposes that had kept him strong, or if not strong, at least alive. There was no great evil to fight, no emergency to respond to, and even any research he might have done to lose himself in his books was impeded by his loss of his own native language.
Add to that Cordelia, Faith, and now a Buffy that seemed so young compared to who she had become. He was so happy to see Cordelia alive, and yet that was also a joy tinged by loss. Buffy made him a little uncomfortable, to see her at that stage in life merely served to remind him of who he had been then. The young and foolish Watcher, so blind... so very blind.
All the mistakes he had made since then, the greatest of which was undoubtedly the last woman here making his thoughts swirl. Faith. His slayer. He should have been so much more for her, he had made every wrong decision he could have and they had both suffered for it. He didn't regret the decision to offer her training again here, although not for the reasons he had seemed to openly allude to.
Trust. It was a strange concept now, he had gained and lost trust for and from those he cared for the most more often than he cared to think. He had done unspeakable things and been forgiven, Faith was little different. While it was true that he would prefer her under a watchful eye in such a potentially volatile situation, he didn't exactly believe she would actually turn against them. She was attempting to make amends, just as he was.
Perhaps one of the main driving reasons he wanted her kept near, not that it would ever be admitted, was that they shared a strange kinship now. Spending time with another as broken as he was, who was also trying to mend the pieces... it could be for the best for them both.
The only people left that could truly add to the cavalcade of his mind were Delilah and Justine. If they arrived, perhaps he might believe he were in a hell dimension after all...
He didn't care what the world thought of him, not any longer, and he would have happily spent his time here in a drunken haze. But for her. It was for her that he made this effort, presented this facade and worked to maintain it. For no matter how broken into shards he had become, that one of them should ever be allowed to cut her perfect skin would be a sin unforgiveable.
That's all that mattered in the end.
[ooc: This log is part 1/2. Part 2/2 can be found here.]