the fourteenth;

[discessum]

Comments

can't put your arms around a memory

[discessum]

The response sobers him up a bit, and Wesley shifts just enough to suggest he's nodding in understanding. Such a statement could hold true for anyone, really, but what little he did know of Jamie made it seem especially fitting.

And tragically unfortunate.

Resting his thumb against the neck of the bottle, his brow furrows while he contemplates and glances to one of the many books littering the coffee table. It had turned into such a mess since Rose went away. He ought to find out when she was returning, or if she was even still in the City.

"We all want answers. That doesn't mean we're always ready for them." An apologetic look was offered. "Or that we necessarily need to know what they are."

can't put your arms around a memory

[abdicate_you]

She knows the way to Wesley's apartment by heart and she's standing outside his door within minutes of his message to her. She barely keeps herself from breaking the door. Using the key, she throws the door open with a bang as it hits the wall, barely staying on its hinges.

He has company. She does not care. Instead, she leaves the door wide open behind her as she stalks up to them, coming to a very abrupt halt in front of him. She does not care about personal space. Instead, she stands merely inches away, ready to reach down and shake him if she has to.

"Explain." Her voice is thick with paranoia and anger in equal doses.

can't put your arms around a memory

[discessum]

There's another moment of heavy silence as he tries to think of how best to respond. He's startled when the familiar click of a key turning alerts him to someone else's presence, and he shifts in the chair to look to the door, for a split second expecting Rose to walk through.

Instead it's Illyria, and he has to marvel at the fact the she even bothered to use the key, as much as she abused the door afterward. No doubt there's a hole in the wall from the doorknob, and he's suddenly very much wishing he hadn't picked the recliner to sit in. A little difficult to get out of when there's a demon god towering over you.

"Illyria." Despite the predicament, he sounded surprisingly calm. He was accustomed to these temper tantrums. Not to say he was pleased by them. Especially considering his migraine just doubled it's intensity.

A glance around her to Jamie, but only for a moment, and he continues. Calm, but wary. Careful. "I told you that now isn't the time. Can't you see I have a guest?"

can't put your arms around a memory

[abdicate_you]

Her eyes widen at Wesley's words - he is berating her, backing out as if he has any rights to control their conversation, any rights at all. Wait until another time? She has been nothing but patient.

She is about to speak when the boy in the sofa makes himself known. Turning to stare at him briefly, she decides that he is not a hindrance and leaves him sitting there, turning her full attention back to Wesley.

"You believe your pathetic attempts at social interaction are more important than..." She trails off, her anger overtaking her paranoia within seconds. She grabs Wesley's throat and pulls him from his seated position, glaring at him, as if her eyes alone could force the truth from his lips. "I shall not repeat myself."

And she drops him back onto the floor.

can't put your arms around a memory

[discessum]

There's alarm in his eyes when she grabs him, though he hardly fears for his own safety. He's acutely aware of the type of person Jamie is, and how very likely he is to interfere if he thinks he needs to. As soon as he's released, he slumps to the floor, one hand rubbing at his throat and the other lifted in Jamie's direction.

A silent plea for him to not interfere. Wesley didn't need Jamie's blood on his hands. Though Illyria had promised Wesley she wouldn't kill, it was clear she was growing more and more unstable, and less trusting of him.

He needs to approach with caution.

"Jamie. Can you...give us a moment?"

What he's about to say, Jamie really doesn't need to hear. Nor does he need to be around if Illyria loses her temper again.

can't put your arms around a memory

[abdicate_you]

She looks at Wesley, calming down only marginally at his words. He will make room for her, even if it means driving others away. She is a creature born of sacrifices and prayers. She is worth it.

The boy is speaking again and she stares at him, eyes narrowing to slits at his tone. Such arrogance. Under other circumstances, he might have been interesting. Now, he is merely annoying. She watches him approach and stands her ground. Her personal space is vast - especially when she is preoccupied with more important matters. "You do not interest me," she says, voice icy.

She focuses on Wesley again. "He does not matter. Tell me what you know."

can't put your arms around a memory

[discessum]

Another apologetic look is cast towards Jamie, and he really wishes he would leave, but arguing over that now will only waste more time and anger Illyria further. While he might not concern himself so much with Illyria's temper normally, having another person around always complicates things.

He doesn't want Jamie to know. He doesn't want anyone to know. And if he can word things correctly, nobody needs to.

A moment passes and he regains his footing, one hand dropping to rest against the back of the chair as he looks down at Illyria. The fact that he's taller is little comfort. She could break him in half if she so chose.

"Very well. You're so eager to know?" The grip on the chair tightens. "You'll lose yourself. You'll lose control. If you aren't careful with these...experiments, you will achieve the very opposite outcome that you are seeking. Do you understand? You will regret it."

can't put your arms around a memory

[abdicate_you]

Lose... what? Everything. Regret. She stares at Wesley, noting that the boy is speaking but not really listening to them. Her mind is chaotic, paranoia clouding her logic. Would he tell her this to make her stop? Because she is getting too close to something he would not be able to withstand? Something he could not handle? Or is it truth? Would she end herself by seeking Winifred Burkle and her repulsing humanity?

She hears the last of the boy's sentence and turns towards him fully. "You will cease talking. You confuse me and your words... you are in the way." She keeps herself in check, barely, aware that killing the boy will serve no purpose. It is not him, he does not matter. It is

can't put your arms around a memory

[discessum]

Wesley stumbles as he's pushed, his grip on the chair saving him as he turns to watch her leave. "Illyria!" As if he doesn't want her to go, despite the threat and turmoil she brings. It's never simple, after all, and he's worried she'll do something she'll regret.

But if she wants air and space, he'll make it worse. He can't keep up with her.

Legs feeling rather weak, he slumps back onto the chair's arm rest, one hand over his face as he attempts to regroup. But at least it ended without violence...for now. He would need to alert Angel soon of what he had told Illyria. At least he hadn't told her anything she might actually desire.

Then he looks up and over, gaze centering on Jamie, and there's a flicker there. Anger. He's angry because he's worried.

"What the hell were you doing? You didn't even know what you were talking about! You could have made it worse. Far worse. I had it under control. One wrong move and she could have seriously hurt you, Jamie."