001: Lab Specimens [Holo]

[a_pretty_fire]

“I had a dream about the hanged man.” Without opening her eyes, Drusilla stepped off the platform. She didn’t need to peep out in order to see. She could smell it from here. The change in the air, the sickening metal tang of the machines, the whispers of the false stars. It wasn’t right. “Is he upside down, or did he miss the world turning around

Comments

[Visual]

[oldoldghost]

Brigitta looks faintly torn between being fascinated and as close to scared as she can get these days; in the end she settles for fascinated- for fear is a sign of weakness after all and she can't allow that to happen.

"...The hanged man?"

[a_pretty_fire]

Drusilla, still clutching at her head, looked up at the tablet in surprise. She'd been caught up in the tangles of technology in her head, and hadn't noticed the small machine resting nearby. That was new. A piece of the puzzle that she hadn't been expecting. A rook or a pawn? It couldn't be a castle.

Lowering her hands, the vampire moved closer, her head tilted to one side. She reached out to tap the screen with a white finger. Another prisoner. (How many had the tin men captured this time?) What wires were worming through her brain, hmmm? What nasty circuits fizzed in her skull?

"Are you trapped?"

[oldoldghost]

Brigitta currently has no circuits weaving a path in her skull; she has trappings (oh yes, endlessly repressed dreams and barely held back panic and the moments where she's right back in the cave with the rock crushing her lungs) but nothing mechanical; one may say thank heavens for that- she has far too much information on appearing normal for anything else to fit.

Of course; she doesn't let any of this show on her face "we're all trapped; alien overlords probably- nice to meet you, I'm Brigitta."

Seems a nice way to start a conversation; it might not last long.

[a_pretty_fire]

"Aliens?" Drusilla repeated, canting her head. Far more interesting than tin soldiers, but the vampire isn't sure that she believes the stranger. Not yet. "Little green men? Do they have a space ship?"

They'd all been the same, the little green men in the old films. She'd watch them sometimes, when there was nothing else interesting on the telly. The women had always screamed had screamed, and she'd liked to laugh at that. But she'd always changed the channel for the probing and the prodding. Too much like science for her taste, even in a story.

[visual]

[beholdthedrums]

"The hanged man was forgotten," quips the Master in reply to the newcomer. Quite the strange one, at that, but those were simply the best, and as of recent events, he's been needing to pull at the strings of others. He had to relieve stress in some way, after all. "He will never be remembered. That is what Time does to all." To most. Not to him.

The Master grins slowly, folding his hands and stretching back in a chair. He's wearing a simple white dress shirt and pants; in the background there were similar sleek walls, but strung with various scraps of equipment, machinery, occasional streamers of wires, tools. He really must organize the mess some in the near future... It should not match the disarray of his mind.

He continues, "Instead of finding freedom and finding a way to move forward, the only truth is that you will be forever trapped, and no one will ever play fair. What a sad fate. " He does not sound very sympathetic. He cocks his head to the side and regards her.

[a_pretty_fire]

"I remember him," Drusilla replied, with a definite edge to her voice. Who was this man, to question what he didn't understand? (Very few people could understand. The old sorcerers had all drifted away or dwindled to nothing, and only Drusilla kept her eye on the old ways.)

"Time. Time. Time. You're covered in it."

She let out a low growl at the last comment. Freedom - her freedom - had been far away for a terribly long time. She couldn't catch it, not even with the tips of her fingers. The Slayer had taken it away first, and then the tin men, and now this echoing man was trying to tell her what she already knew.

"We're all trapped here," she said, still under the impression that the Initiative was responsible for her current incarceration. Like rats. Or rabbits.

[visual]

[lessritual]

"Dru?" See this? This was Spike with his eyes bugging out. Who's going to be next, Harmony?

There were boxes behind him in the little nondescript apartment. He'd been planning to move for a day or two. They went completely unnoticed now as he leaned in, looking closely at the hologram of Drusilla....and found the little red light that indicates recording was on.

"Damned bloody thing!" he cursed at it, and it looked like he might try to fling it across the room for a moment. But then the anger drained quickly away as he resigned himself and nodded at the screen. "Hi, Dru."

He was too familiar with that incredible pain, the one that took over every sense with bad intent- but seeing as he wasn't expecting Drusilla to be here at all (for some reason), it may take awhile for that one to sink in.

[a_pretty_fire]

Drusilla straightened up as soon as she heard that voice, her pain temporarily forgotten. Such a familiar voice. She'd heard it singing of death and destruction, once upon a time. She'd come to know it as well as she knew the voices that whispered in her ear in the moonlight. Until she'd ran away from him.

"No! No ... no ... you can't be here ..."

She'd ran away. She'd left him behind to catch the Slayer, but she'd been swept up instead. In the end, it had been easier to stay in Sunnydale. She kept on running, all the while standing still.

"They're going to get you. Spike! The tin soldiers. You can't be here."

[lessritual]

And now it was once again time to translate Drusilla's words. It wasn't as if he didn't have experience with that. "Tin soldiers caught me awhile back, Dru. This is something entirely different."

And now he furrowed his brow, remembering what he'd seen. "Dru, you-" She'd reacted like she had a chip in her head, but that never happened...unless the Initiative continued on elsewhere, which was entirely possible given the nature of government institutions. Especially secret ones.

He shifted in his seat, wincing as his back hit the back of his chair. Thanks to plenty of blood he'd been healing right along, but he still wasn't in the best of shape after that humiliating beatdown they'd received from that other vampire. He ignored it the best he could.

"The tin soldiers, did they mess with your head? Put somethin' in it?"

[a_pretty_fire]

Was that a joke? She couldn't hear the punchline. The tin soldiers stayed away from her Spike. Drusilla might not have been able to stay with him, and she might not have been able to untangle herself from the Slayer, but she knew that much.

Drusilla shook her head sharply, as if she was attempting to brush a way a bothersome fly. Or as if she was attempting to force the nasty wires to come loose and leave her be. (It never worked. Oh, she tried and she tried, but it never worked.)

But he'd seen her, hadn't he? She couldn't hide away now.

"They caught me," she admitted petulantly, "Cut me up and stitched me back together with nasty little knick knacks inside. I'm all broken. You weren't supposed to see."

[visual]

[likeajoan]

A much the worse for wear looking Buffy (replete with numerous attractive bruises) stared down at her tablet, which had been laying dormant and idle on the couch next to her, until Drusilla's hologram popped up.

...at which point Buffy's eyes widened momentarily with surprise-- which then quickly dulled to a sort of exhausted resignation.

"Oh god, please tell me this is a painkiller induced hallucination."

[a_pretty_fire]

"It's the Slayer," the vampire crowed delightedly, in a singsong voice. That was quick. Even Drusilla hadn't expected a rescue just yet. (She could have grown wings, to race here so swiftly, but Drusilla knew better than that, didn't she? Her Slayer would never be an angel. She walked far too close to hell for that.)

Her smile froze on her lips when she picked up the tablet and peered at the figure on the screen.

"You're hurt," she said, sharply, though her anger wasn't directed at Buffy, "Did the soldiers get you? Did you break them?"

[likeajoan]

Oh boy. Buffy had almost forgotten Drusilla's own charming brand of weirdness, and in her current state she wasn't best equipped to deal with it.

"Not that hurt." She retorted, attempting to straighten up a little, to project her traditional steely firmness, in case Drusilla was getting any untoward ideas about finishing her off. Sadly the effect was dampened considerably by the way she flinched at even the tiniest movement. She frowned, confused by the question- of course she'd never really make the Initiative association with Drusilla.

"Soldiers? What? No, there's no soldiers. Why would there be soldiers?"

[a_pretty_fire]

"Are you trying to keep secrets from me?"

There was familiarity in her tone - all milk and honey now she isn't allowed to turn it red with blood - but the Slayer didn't want to return the favour. She was being sharp, but she did that from time to time. When she was angry, when she was scared, when she was trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Drusilla was getting good at picking her way to the truth now. Worming in. Little worms.

"The tin soldiers," repeated Drusilla, patiently. "Trying to put more wires in my head." She canted her head, looking at the room around her. "It isn't as clean here. I didn't like it when it was clean."

[visual]

[glowingseer]

...crap, not another vampire in Taxon! And Drusilla, of all non-people!

Cordelia placed a hand on her mouth, panicking for a bit. Sure, this place wasn't welcoming its first vampire or anything, but it still felt... suffocating. This one was dangerous and loony and crazy and did she mention loony?

"Crap," she said. Cordelia looked up and muttered, "Geez Taxon, who's next - Darla?"

[a_pretty_fire]

"Grandmummy?" The familiar name, unfortunately for Cordelia, attracted Drusilla's attention immediately. She still missed Darla sometimes, when she wasn't busy missing Spike and Daddy or wondering where her dinner was going to come from with no veins to open. But Grandmummy wouldn't want her anymore, not now. She'd left Angelus because of his soul, and she would surely leave poor Drusilla because of her chip.

"No. She won't come here. She's gone back to dust."

She peered at Cordelia, with the air of a cat sizing up a mouse. She might not be able to take a bite, but she did like to look.

"I know your face."

[glowingseer]

"Well, yeah. Thank God," she replied, in regards to Darla becoming dust. Cordelia frowned as she pondered if this Drusilla was talking about the first or the second time Darla became dust, though.

She cleared her throat. "Ah, really?" Cordelia asked. She wasn't really sure if she should be flattered or not - well, who would be flattered that a psycho vamp knew him or her and would probably target him or her at the end of the day, right?

[a_pretty_fire]

"Bite your tongue!" Drusilla snapped. Gone she might be, but Darla was still her Grandmummy - her family - and Drusilla couldn't abide it when people spoke ill of her family. They were important. "You shouldn't speak ill of the dead."

(It was so difficult to tell if they'd stay that way. Grandmummy couldn't make up her mind, and neither could Daddy.)

"Mmmmm. Yes. But didn't you run away? Maybe they don't want you back."