02 | Location: Wandering | And in your soul they poked a million holes

[buffy_slayer]

It had driven her out of the house that morning.

There had been a whisper that drifted into her just-waking consciousness, a familiar voice that felt as comfortable as anything had ever been.

"Wake up, Buffy. You're going to be late..." There's a touch of a hand on her head, smoothing back hair, and Buffy leans into the contact, mostly still

Comments

[Location] Did someone say 'weird and unsettling'?

[the_bluethunder]

The cold feels like nothing to Illyria. It feels as all air does upon her hard skin--like silken thread upon armor. It did not move her, one way or the other. It is decoration.

She enjoys being outside more than remaining indoors. It is more bearable, somehow. She breathes easier. She expects to encounter lower creatures in this expansive space, and they are easily ignored.

But the girl's presence consumes her awareness and taints her sanctuary of privacy. She is no longer alone. "Your agitation spills off of you in rusty waves," sneers Illyria to Buffy from several feet away, barely sparing her a glance. "I can hardly bear it."

[Location] Did someone say 'weird and unsettling'?

[buffy_slayer]

"And... you're very blue." The words So there! almost follow that, but Buffy manages to hold them back. Just barely.

She shakes a bit of snow from her hair, taking a moment to evaluate the woman in front of her. Blue, obviously, with strangely colored eyes and hair topping off an odd ensemble of some sort of hardened red leather and rope.

"I am deeply sorry that my... agitation seems to be bothering you. I really think you're just going to have to deal with it. Or, you know, walk down the road a bit until you can't 'feel the waves', or whatever it is that you're feeling."

[Location]

[the_bluethunder]

Her pointless observation goes ignored. It is obvious and inconsequential to her. Meaningless. As is her existence.

But such is a concept beyond her understanding. She does not bother to instill it. It is not her job to teach.

But to learn.

"I will remain where I please," she answers, as if that settles the matter. She cranes her neck to look at the sky, and then at the ground, and finally...at Buffy. Her eyes, blue and frozen, are troubled. "Everything here is as it should be. I wish to escape the bombardment of illusions. Phantoms... of things that cannot be." This last is said forcefully, as if her words automatically make them truths.

No, there are no ghosts here.

Re: [Location]

[buffy_slayer]

"It was... just a suggestion, y'know. I'm fairly certain that I am not the boss of you." She can't help but notice the troubled look. It does not sit well on that face, seemingly used to being on much more stable emotional ground.

"What, are you seeing things?"

[Location]

[the_bluethunder]

"Surely. I follow no rule but my own." She is clearly affronted at the very suggestion, which she interprets literally. Once the insulting notion of a being like herself being ruled by something as low and putrid as a human passes, she replies.

"Seeing. And hearing. They are mere disruptions, nothing more." She takes several steps forward, looking closely at nothing. "Fragmented pieces of impossibilities brought to life by whatever magics rule this realm. Utterly false. And yet..."

She stops, brings her hands down in muted resignation. "They trouble me more than I'd like."

Re: [Location]

[buffy_slayer]

"What exactly have you seen?" Curiosity momentarily overrules the hesitation, and Buffy edges closer herself.

If nothing else, finding what unsettles this... person would be interesting.

[Location]

[the_bluethunder]

Her head turns and her icy eyes bore into Buffy's, wondering if her phantoms are not hers, alone. But those eyes seek no comfort, for such a need is beneath her, and instead only answers.

"I have seen...my guide to this world. It is impossible. He is dead."