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@feigenburkle
how do you need to be touched?
fervently.
you crave a hug that cracks your ribs... the feeling of your wandering soul being crushed back into the bones that can't seem to hold it. you need a hand gripping yours so tightly you almost fear it may leave a bruise, a reminder that you are here. and that you are not alone.
tagged: @oneyedchicklet
tagging: [you!]
Nice, the recognition had kicked in. Well, she'd had his voice to go by too he guesses but, not the most reliable thing when you have thousands of miles and an ocean stretching out your call. "What can I say, New York's the biggest small town we've got back home." Harry chimes with an icebreaking shrug, playing innocently with a bit of that ol' east coast to west coast rivalry. There was truth to it though, weird things like running into people you knew through second and third-hand connections was almost the least coincidental of them all. The smile Miss Burkle gives him is more than encouraging, and already he feels like this is off to a great start: whether she ends up taking his offer or not, he has a feeling he'll leave tonight happy that he decided to come out here.
"Got me there, it's a bit of both." He admits gently with a softened laugh. "The people I know hosting this thing are great guys, but like I said over the phone I really wanted to get the chance to talk to you in person. Didn't know when I was going to be in the L.A. area next so, thought it'd work best I just sneak down here after my trip to Denmark. Weather's great, for one thing." Harry ends up jesting with an amicable beam as he lifts his hands out either side of him, turning slightly both ways in sequence as though to gesture to the surrounding atmosphere. Cool breeze, salt air; what's not to love? Dropping his hands back onto his lap next, he casually invited Miss Burkle to sit in the chair opposite him with an open palm.
"You got a minute now? I won't take your whole evening, promise. Just wanna get your thoughts on a few things, see where you're standing on our offer." Maybe smooth over a few questions, if she has them. The kinda stuff best done in person, essentially. Not only was it more efficient that way, but he'd come to realize he sorta valued seeing how people think and speak on their feet. Felt more genuine that way, like he could get a better read on a person and their priorities by how they'd choose to present themselves in the moment. Pretty fundamental aspect of team-building, just as he'd been telling Pete before he'd flown out here.
"Well now, I've never been to New York," she said thoughtfully. "But I can imagine. Between Houston and Los Angeles, sometimes in the biggest cities it feels like everyone knows someone and their cousin." Still, what a surprise to be halfway around the world in a real small, cozy town, and still find so many familiar faces. Guess family was wherever you could find it these days.
"Wow, Denmark must be beautiful... but cold. I don't blame you for making this your second stop," Fred nodded. "Sure, I've got a minute. Wouldn't want you to have come all this way for nothing."
A cheeky smile curves up her face -- of course, this party wasn't nothing. Not even close. Even without Wesley here to be her most familiar anchor point, Fred was discovering a bounty of conversation and incredible food (should she have prepared a snack plate before sitting down? No, better not to be distracted).
She lowered herself down and got comfortable in the chair, and then redirected her attention to the young Mr. Osborn. She had been turning the idea over in her mind, sure, but she was definitely curious as to his motivations. Oscorp surely couldn't be another Wolfram and Hart, and she'd still done earnest work under their funding. But anyways, she wondered what he wanted to know.
"I did, of course, do some of my own digging into your foundation and all. Very impressive stuff of course, but I'm still eager to know what it is you had in mind for me."
â»ă Aevitas verse; holiday starter đđż
An idle hum of consideration escapes him;
In the next room over he can hear the people milling about, amiable conversation and distant laughter flowing between the members of their gathering like the smell of wine which permeates through the air and flows through their system. He'd been offered a glass himself, a few moments prior - one of the young women Thorne had made note of when they'd earlier arrived from the beach, come up by herself once the tiefling had sauntered off elsewhere in whatever frivolous pursuit had caught him. She'd approached with a shuffle to extend the drink, bidding away once more with a curious look and gentle smile after he'd taken it with a pause and belated thanks.
He'd tried to recollect her name as he placed the glass on top of the drawer beside, letting the reddish liquid still and settle with a subtly earthy undertone on his tongue.
He looks to the wall-length mirror in the hall by which he's lingered, and there's burgundy there too, draped across his shoulders in a warmly rich hue. Hands reach up to adjust the collar of the charcoal turtleneck beneath, and he shifts the weight in his stance in feel of the unfamiliar dress which had been brought for him. A little bit neater, than his usual form. A little bit tighter. But all in all, perhaps, surprisingly... fine, amidst all faintly dreaded speculation for what his companion could've picked, given free reign over the serpent's fate for the night. Nice, even.
Though it might still take some getting used to--
Fred slipped from the main room, excusing herself quietly without much explanation. Her wine was left behind but she was certain she could grab it later if it hadn't been cleared away. She just needed a moment...
Free of the bustling company, the scientist pressed her back to the wall, feeling the cool surface between her shoulder blades where her dress was cut low. Fred kept her eyes closed and tried to keep her breathing steady. During her time in Pylea, she had spent so much time learning to soothe her anxiety for the benefit of survival -- now, the Old One in her mind wasn't exactly like a panic attack, but Illyria was threatening to escalate things at the pleasant holiday gathering.
"Look, I don't know if drinking down all this lovely wine will make it easier for me to deal with you, or harder. But can't you let me have this one evening? We know these folks -- well, most of them. They're nice people. And you are not gonna pop out and cause a fuss over Mama Dafni's dinner. It smells divine and you don't get to ruin my Christmas, or anyone else's."
The words were whispered low and to herself, and the response came from within, where no one else could hear. Fred rubbed her temples, took a deep breath, and when she felt the ache in her head recede, she opened her eyes. "Oh --"
She was surprised to see a rather handsome gentleman, tall and dressed sharply, checking his reflection in the mirror. Fred's cheeks warmed a little at the sight of him, and instinctively she tried to push her glasses up her nose, forgetting for a moment she was wearing contacts for the party. A nervous laugh escaped as she cleared her throat.
"-- I'm so sorry you had to hear that. It... never you mind. You look quite dashing in that suit, Mr... Oh gosh, I don't believe we've met. I'm Winifred... Are you a friend of Luc's?"
@smurfdemon gets a re-ensouled starter
The switch would begin like a headache -- a migraine aura with spots floating across her vision. Fred supposed it was a miracle she was alive to feel the discomfort in the first place.
She still wasn't exactly sure what had caused her soul to return to its body, but whatever had done it hadn't managed to exorcise Illyria completely from her core. Or maybe this cohabitation had been their plan all along. The scientist knew how Angel's condition had operated, given the bounds of a curse for its triggering incident. But with Illyria, there seemed to be little rhyme or reason -- predominantly either herself or the entity vying for control at any given moment.
Fred was good at keeping the Old One under control, mostly. But there were moments she slipped -- fear seemed to be the biggest catalyst, as did intoxication. But sometimes, the switches were random, like right now --
"Oh, no... no, not now," she muttered as she saw the blue-tinged aura creeping into the periphery of her vision. Fred quickly put down her grocery basket and braced herself against the ice cream freezer door at the local food mart. The woman shut her eyes tight, trying to push back the feeling of cold creeping up her extremities...
But when she reopened her eyes, it was like she was watching the world from inside herself. A private screening room of the grocery store she'd just been in. But Fred was no longer in control.
"Oh, damn it. Illyria, what could be so important that you pushed me out before I got my Ben and Jerry's?"
{ Collision Theory
@feigenburkle - Fred
So, social-wise not a total disaster so far. But despite having some great interim conversations with some pretty interesting people around here, he still hadn't found Miss Burkle for that totally-not-interview interview. He'd tried the same number he'd talked to her over last week when they'd set this all up, but he wasn't getting any signal out here: pretty much a bust on that front, even with his data package. Harry was starting to resign himself to the possibility that she was just holed up somewhere inside the house, as opposed to out in the open where he'd felt most comfortable to mingle and roam.
For now though, he thinks he's earned a break for a minute or two. It wasn't so much that he felt like he had to sit down, even though he could feel Jay eying him like a hawk from across the stretch of flagstone separating themâ threatening through that look alone to bring the cane out from the boot if Harry looked like he was so much as straining himself a little too much. As though he hadn't just been telling his buddy-turned-bodyguard all about how he barely felt like he even needed it anymore while they were pulling into the path towards the Savvas house. Last few months feel like they've been game-changing, he keeps telling him.
Crossing his soil-flecked russet Chelsea boots over each other at the ankle into a languid stretch out in front of him, Harry pulled all that ruminating back into the recesses of his mind again as he sank comfortably into the seat of the hand-built chair he was currently occupying: content to rest his feet for a minute. And, naturally, that's when he sees the woman of the hour. Unfolding his legs again and sitting up slightly to help draw Miss Burkle's attention, he called to the doe-eyed scientist with gently enquiry; hoping she'd at least recognize him from his profile on the Foundation's website, if not a mixture of anticipation and passive fame.
"Oh, hey. Fred Burkle?"
It had been some time since Fred had a proper forum for her scientific work. Since her abrupt resurrection, it had been mostly relegated to the realm of her private quarters or the battleground that was currently her brain. Despite having her own personal inner critic (and not just the sweet Southern voice of doubt in her mind), the scientist was more resolved than ever to study the dynamic between the demonic and the scientific.
Before her re-ensoulment, most everyone else had considered her essence lost forever. Fred didn't blame those who stopped trying to find a cure. But the fact that an extremely powerful cult had been able to restore her in a bid to diminish Illyria's power suggested that their molecules were now entangled on a metaphysical level as well as the, well, physical. A topic of study she would love to devote more time towards, though without the Wolfram and Hart resources, it would prove difficult.
Fred had spoken to a potential benefactor on the phone -- a young man interested in hiring her for his foundation's research efforts. They'd gone over the general broad strokes -- his interest, his offer, her expertise, her availability. It had been an exciting discussion, even if Illyria was in her ear trying to seed doubt about Harry Osborn's intentions with her. And anyway, it was so close to the holidays, she asked if she could have time to mull things over. Any scientist worth their NaCl would do ample research into any prospective employment like that. Everything she'd seen checked out so far, but her decision wouldn't be made until after traveling.
It had been nice to run into a few familiar faces from across the years at this party (Wesley sent his regards from a dig site, leaving her somewhat adrift from the usual company, which might have been a good thing tonight). While Fred was still a consummate wallflower, it seemed in contrast to previous functions hosted by Alfred, Luc's family home was much quieter (even if his aunts weren't). There was a rustic edge to everything, which the woman appreciated.
Hearing her name called by an unfamiliar face, however, caught her off guard for the faintest moment. Sans the tinny distance of a cellular call, she took only a moment or two to place the face to the voice (and his profile on the foundation website). "Harry Osborn? Oh goodness, I didn't know you knew the hosts."
"He probably stalked you here and is now feigning innocence with his weak manner and conversational deception. Keep your guard up."
Fred ignored the voice, continuing to give a winning smile. "I hope you didn't come all the way out here just to meet with little old me."
Valerie's laughter is polite, concealing the fact that she had almost entirely forgotten about that whole deal since they'd last been in the same room. She doesn't remember enquiring too deeply about the details at the time, and she'd been thirsty for more than one form of life sustenance, which caused her focus to falter. Need makes one sloppy. Naturally, it had slipped her mind. Perhaps they could have another chat about it at some point during the evening. "Let's give them a little soother to help with the crankiness, shall we?"
The gentleness with which Fred's fingers brush against Valerie's has the latter feeling very slightly electrified, though she must free her hand to begin preparing them each a drink. "Manhattan? Martini?" Better let the doll choose. "The Cotswolds? That's very close to my neck of the woods." Pleasant surprise passes over the vampire's countenance, brow quirked as to press for clarification. Could this have anything to do with Faith's little project? Oh, heavens, let a creature get some sleep. The woman scoops a handful of ice onto a mixing glass before her fingers close around the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniel's and she twists off the cap.
"Very well, so you plan to stick around for a while." Not dashing off before the year was overâ "Oh, just fine, thank you, dear. The boys keep me busy, as you know. I spent the semester teaching in London. There is something about her, isn't there? One just can't seem to get away."
Well, Fred supposed a drink couldn't hurt. Too many (or something too strong) would run the risk of Illyria taking over, but even then, the God King would be subject to her intoxication as they shared the same form. But just because she was housing a primordial consciousness didn't mean Fred couldn't find some time to relax and enjoy the current company, right?
"A drink would be lovely, thank you," she nodded, eyes scanning Valerie's selection of spirits (merry and bright). "I don't suppose you'd have the makings for an Aperol Spritz?" It was something light, a perfect starter before she found her way to the snack table (where she would do her best not to remain for the night).
"Hm, neck," Fred laughed to herself at Valerie's unintentional pun. She cleared her throat, and nodded. "Actually, there's... well, Illyria has some connection to an ancient burial site there. We've-- I've been staying close to do some research. But trying not to be so close as to attract attention to myself, y'know?"
Fred was never big on attention, but having an Old One tied to her soul (or her soul tied to an Old One?) was about as subtle as all the lights on a Burkle family Christmas tree. Valerie's response distracts her from those worries, though.
"Oh, that's lovely. London's real nice, I haven't spent a ton of time there yet, but... I bet it's even more special being on the inside of the academic circle there. I always thought I might end up teaching someday... What were you teaching this time 'round?"
& 04.
@feigenburkle // Fred
Before her dear old friend can even spot the newly arrived guest and promptly steal them away for the rest of the evening, Valerie makes a beeline through the standing crowd in the living room towards the open door. Winifred has come to dazzle everyone with her collarbones, it seems, and give the vampire a seriously hard time keeping her eyes anywhere deemed appropriate. How long since they'd seen each other? Could you believe they hadn't met since that first gathering at Al's? It could be so hard to flush these introverts out of their nests â she's surprised the woman showed up all the way across the world for this. Wesley must be pulling extra shifts.
"An adventurous dress choice for a place where the sharp-toothed kind are welcome." Valerie comments sotto voce in Fred's ear while volunteering to take her coat, immediately getting a breathful of her delectable fragrance. Melia is kind enough to take the garment away and the vampire steps in line with the brunette while delicately curling an icy hand around her shoulder. First stop would be the drinks cart. "Lovely to see you again, dearest. Where did you parachute from, this time?
Despite the cool winter air, Fred had opted for a festive dress that didn't include a turtleneck ruched all the way up under her chin. It was a bit bolder than she usually might have chosen, but these days, her life didn't exactly permit her to be the same shy wallflower she had grown as.
Besides, these folks were her friends. She was excited to see them again. Especially Wesley and that stunning woman Valerie. She'd been so nice, especially when Fred was feeling out of sorts at the last holiday party.
Speaking of, the raven haired woman rapidly approached as Fred made her entrance. She wondered if not having to play hostess would change anything about her sociable spirit. The farm was gorgeous, and the scientist was looking forward to exploring the Grecian coast in time here (though the elder god inside her soul was not remotely amused at being so near the Balkans -- Fred couldn't exactly get a straight answer as to whether the Illyrian region had come before the king's rule, or vice versa).
She smiled as Val approached. "Hardly more adventurous than taking an international trip with a primordial being arguing with you about the quality of in flight entertainment." Still, a dainty hand instinctually fluttered to the back of her neck, trying not to think too strongly about how others would perceive her here. Her fingers gently brushed Val's guiding hand.
"It's lovely to be included again. I came in from the Cotswolds, but have plans to explore some of Albania when all the festivities are through," she smiled. "How have you been since the last holiday get-together?"
Wesley, why can't I stay?
âFRED, IN ALL THE YEARS IâVE BEEN DOING THIS  . . .   ➻   and believe me, i have been doing this way longer than any normal human being should.   ➻   i can confirm it neverwashes out easy. you wouldnât believe how many cute tops iâve had to toss in the trash.   â   a fact that cordelia has since đđđđđđđđ herself to. face presses into towel, wiping what she could off before letting out a long, đđ±đĄđđźđŹđđđ sigh, lamenting yet another outfit ruined.   â   i mean, i get it. weâre saving people. helping the helpless, blah, blah, blah. itâs all a worthy cause, but iâm supposed to be able to see the future. the powers - that - be canât give me a headâs up from time to time to wear an old shirt? or steal one from wesleyâs closet?  weâve all seen the clothes he wears, they can only be đ¶đșđœđżđŒđđČđ±Â by demon goo.   â   and thatâs her expert opinion. another beat is taken, just long enough to truly mourn before dramatics start to ease. vanity has always been a part of cordyâs personality, but itâs nothing like it used to be. the greater picture is much clearer in her head these days and why shouldnât it be? itâs the same greater picture that gave them the visions they needed to rescue fred. sheâs an đąđ§đđđ«đđŹđđąđ§đ  đđđđąđđąđšđ§Â to their already odd, little crew, and gaze drifts from reflection in a pocket mirror to the other as another thought breaks through.   â   were you okay out there?  must be kinda funky, seeing all these demons after the whole đđđđđđđđ in pylea for a gazillion years thing.   â
"Oh, well that's a shame," she nodded. "Ah hope you don't have to throw this one out, a'course." Fred was still getting used to having tops, plural, and she would have to have to throw any out on account of demon goo. But she did survive much worse in Pylea, not that that made Cordelia's woes any less... woeful.
The scientist titters in amusement at the comment about Wesley's wardrobe. Fred didn't refute the claim, although she did think he was awfully cute either way, what with his hair grown out a little shaggy and those glasses, and-
"Still, maybe the Powers That Be could tell you if it's a good idea to bring an umbrella. Ah mean, the weatherman does it, so why can't they?"
Cordelia, Angel, Gunn, Wesley- they'd all been at this much longer than her. And maybe it took five years, but the Powers That Be did send them to save her, so they couldn't be all bad, right? Maybe a little splatter and brain matter was small fish to their omnipotent viewpoint. Oh, but that would mean Fred wasn't small fish, and she just didn't think that was true. She was the smallest fish in this whole pond called Los Angeles, barely learning to walk out of the primordial ooze all over again.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Ah was totally fine- those were entirely different demons. Ah try not to judge, y'know? Everybody's different." Besides, if Fred judged people like that, she'd have to go cower in fear from Cordelia and every girl like her who picked on her in middle school. And that just wasn't fair, was it? Because as pretty as she was, and a little bit blunt, Cordy was real sweet and seemed to really care about Fred. She gave an awkward little smile as Gunn and Wesley collected the scraps of their makeshift attack plan.
"If Ah had time and the right equipment Ah could always try to concoct a solvent that'll help get the stains out... failing that, we can just order takeout and try a sponge bath?"
//nbd just dealt myself massive psychic damage making a fred triptych with this Picrew
He offers the girl a friendly smile, water dripping on the bridge of his nose from an unruly coil of dark hair, bringing on a ticklish feeling that he promptly wipes away with the heel of his hand. âYes, itâs pretty counterintuitive.â Wired for survival we are, and jumping off a cliff went strongly against that self-preservation instinct that tells you to steer clear, or you might get injured (or worse). âBut all you need to focus on is the jump,â Luc glides his hand across the hot hair like an airplane taking off, motioning towards the rim of the cliff where the horizon was no more. ââŠthe sea will catch you.â
Not sure how helpful heâs being, but Fred did come all the way up so at least some part of her must have been enticed by the idea of a little shot of adrenaline. Some other kid runs straight between them and towards the ocean, yelling unintelligibly mid-air. Luc stifles a laugh. âSee, theyâre fine.â
Fred wasnât exactly what one would call a daredevil. Sheâd already seen Faith take a flying leap off the cliff here and then get out and go for a soak in the sun like nothing had happened. Her mind was already racing with thoughts of how deep the bottom might be, or how many rocks might be hiding down there, or slipping off the edge and not getting enough of a jump...
And then there was Illyria, or maybe that voice of self-doubt she liked to blame on the Godking. Feelings of distance and uncertainty from the group of gathered friends, family, and acquaintances that seemed to swell exponentially from occasion to occasion. Fred felt much more comfortable at a backyard barbecue than a beachside party.
âWell, thatâs an awful lot of pressure to put on the sea, isnât it?â She laughed awkwardly, knees pitching inward a bit. Fred watched the latest fearless jumper sail right past them. âItâs a little different when you feel like youâre invincible, isnât it?â
And even moreso when you knew, in a certain capacity, you were invincible. Or as much as you could be, tied to a primordial Old One. Was it the height she feared, or the reliance on Illyriaâs powers to assure that every incalculable variable of danger was but a speck of sand on the beach?
âOkay... focus on the jump... How would you jump, then?â
@visiongrlâ sent â â iâll get over it. i just gotta be dramatic first. â â
âOh no, Ah understand,â Fred remarked, trying to give Cordelia a look of sympathy (although part of it came out like âIâm glad it wasnât me at leastâ). Missions with Team Angel could get pretty messy, she was quickly learning now that she was choosing to venture out of her room a little more. âYouâve earned a right to be dramatic.â
In this particular case, a Murglatz demon had met its rather untimely and extremely sticky demise when Gunn and Wesley launched a surprise offensive with a pair of handaxes and a pressurized canister. That left Cordelia and Angel caught in a spray of guts that Fred just narrowly avoided because sheâd been dawdling with some admittedly fascinating biological samples of the creatureâs nesting habits just around the corner-
âYou think itâll wash out easy? Iâve never seen viscera quite so purple. Say, if you were ever up for dying your hair, I donât think itâd be a bad color on yaâ...â
05.Â
The ocean is tranquil below, gently licking the wind-chiselled rocks with midday languor as the sun beams blindingly above. A small group has gathered atop the modest cliff, and like children they take turns sprinting over its edge and into the blue water. Luc, still dripping from his previous dive, gives his hair a vigorous shake before addressing the undecided beachgoer teetering on the edge.
âThe drop is not that high, just pinch your nose on the way down.â Nothing worse than giving oneâs brain a saltwater rinse while trying to stay afloat.
It sounded like a fun idea at first, especially watching everyone jump so effortlessly. It was just a little water, for the price of a few butterflies in your stomach on the descent. Fred knew that realistically, she wasnât likely to get injured- mostly on account of the ways in which Illyria had impacted her overall physiology. But that didnât take the fear out of the notion of jumping. Plummeting. Waiting for the ocean to rise up and meet you with its salty, stinging embrace.
Cliffs like this had small ways of reminding her of Pylea. Those days were long gone, but where others found thrill, she found little spikes of adrenaline that reminded her of a harsh five years of survival in the wilds of a hell dimension.
âHm? Oh, yeah. Good thinking,â she said, smiling nervously at the glistening gentleman beside her. See? Heâd done it and been just fine. The jump. âI just... standing up here, seeing it all down there... I donât know if Iâve got the stomach for it, is all.â
pryceismâ:
     The man wishes he had something to preoccupy himself with, for an item within his hands to effectively toy with or a point of focus for disquiet eyes to busily peer at, a firm knot having formed within the pit of Wesleyâs stomach as he unburdens himself of the revelation - from his consistently elevated thoughts of her, he deemed that Fred deserved better and didnât want to tell her⊠like this, not in this setting where there are guests bandying about without a care in the world and privacy is at a minimum, the desire to have an honest and candid conversation rooted in the conveyance of genuine sentiment as opposed to cheapened platitudes. She had meant the world to him ( still does, that would never change ), yet thereâs the distinct feeling that a fragile chapter is on the verge of closing regardless of it having just been rekindled, a sensation that grips him with an untold degree of fear and uncertainty. Perhaps heâs reading far too much into this ( as he always does ) but as he had proven time and time again, despite having a way with words, he was never the best at imparting personal endearment.
          Thereâs a minute shake of the former Watcherâs head with a feigned smile and an uncomfortable huff of laughter, trying to shrug away the brunetteâs well wishes as he swallows down dryly, as if his mouth was suddenly filled with ash.  âItâs no easy feat. My standards grow more convoluted as the years pass,â Wesley tries to joke, teeth catching at the soft flesh in the innermost corner of his mouth, lips pressing into a thin line. âI think youâd like him. Both of them. As much as it pains me to admitâŠâ A self-deprecating chuckle emerges, one thatâs genuine compared to prior efforts, features growing more sombre in reflection. âI was in an exceptionally bad place after Wolfram & Hart brought about the apocalypse. As important as our work was in LA, I desperately needed my life to change.â He canât begin to convey the hurt and upheaval experienced during that period, blue eyes instead reverting back to sifting through the crowd, settling on Arthur and Valerie in their distinct corners of the room, observing their opposing mannerisms.
     âTheyâve been very supportive. I donât think I could have done it without them.â Hands slipping into his pockets, thereâs a shift in Wesleyâs stance, a few steps taken to guide the pair in the vampireâs direction when she rapidly darts away, leaving the room entirely to head towards a staircase. The brunet huffs in exasperation as he grinds to a halt, head shaking in disbelief. âA tornado of a woman. Perhaps later?â
It was incredible how the two of them could be so comfortable with one another and yet so easily return to what she supposed was their default state of being quiet, eye-contact avoidant. Awkward. Gosh, where was Lorne when you needed him to force a little liveliness into wallflowers at a party?
Fred re-upped the smile, putting a hand to Wesleyâs arm. âIâm... Iâm sorry to hear that. I so wish I could have done more to help everyone, but... Iâm really glad you were able to find better. I see flashes here and there of Illyriaâs memories of it all. But I think change is for the best,â she said with a nod.Â
Change was always better when you were in control of it, of course. But even the ones that were thrust upon you could be taken under control eventually- or so Fred hoped, when it came to Illyria and her strange cohabitating situation. But that could wait- there seemed to be no shortage of Wesleyâs friends who might be able to help, but at the very least, it was something she had under control for the night.
âWell, I donât plan on goinâ anywhere- not in a hurry. I look forward to learning more about your life and your friends, Wesley. And ahâm glad I still make the cut despite your convoluted standards.â
lostsovlâ:
Valerie thrives on attention that battles to stay put. Even as she claims the seat beside the girl (mindfully leaving one empty in between), leaning sidelong against the backrest with an elbow propped and knees crossed, she notices how those mellow, skittish eyes attempt to juggle the balance between downright staring and complete contact avoidance, shaking on the tenuous line of a socially accepted middle. The elder would not mind the staring, but this is infinitely more endearing to watch.
As her reputation is recited back to her, Valerie nods to punctuate each fact, crimson lips having curled into a most amused smile by the end of the roll. Oof, thatâs a lot. Frankly, she is surprised Wesley painted her so favourably (that, or this doll was just being polite). âIâd say heâs right. I have been behaving all night.â She lifts her drink as if to make a point, a lone ice sphere clicking against the wall of the glass. A feat. âBut if youâre free sometime up to New Yearâs, I canât promise the same.â As obvious as it needed to be.
âAh, yes, he has told me about the strain he and Faith tend to encounter,â Hideous things. âbut I confess even I am not an expert, I tend to mind my own business. Anything you would be particularly curious to know?â
Her heart falters a little when preparing an answer to the question she is asked, wondering if maybe the girl would like to hear more than Valerie could share. She had no doubt Wesley thought the world of this doe-eyed gift, but he was also tragically one of the most repressed and private people she knew, which meant the stories she had heard had often not included a name, nor gender.
âI believe he has.â Valerieâs gaze lowers to the unoccupied space between them. âBut I doubt he imagined we would ever meet, so he has kept your name locked out of my reach.â
âAhâve promised New Yearsâs to my folks back home- it was hard enough to negotiate being a little late to Christmas, but weâll all survive somehow,â she said, the right side of her mouth pushing up into half a smile. Fred took a sip of her drink, letting the brew warm her from the inside. âBut it seems like everyone has been on their best behavior. Lots of old friends, it seems.â
Valerieâs invitation to question opens the proverbial floodgates of her mind, only blocked by the biting of her tongue. Fred would have to be careful not to overwhelm the woman with excited rambling or anything too existential about her state of being. Illyria, however, had drawn their own conclusions about her.
Filthy half-demon, diluted darkness. It makes no difference what strain of vermin she is, she is nothing when compared with the God King.
Fredâs heart feels tight at the womanâs confession- but it made sense. Grief was hard to speak of and it had been so many years... âIâm sorry, it was a rude question. I know... Wesley can be very careful with his life and what he chooses to share. One time, we got magic-fake-drunk at a Halloween party and it was the first time Iâd heard him talk about how he celebrated holidays back in England. I thought it was sweet, even if I donât remember everything because I was also sort of intoxicated. Even though I was technically entirely sober.â She paused, warmed by the memory of Lorne and the party all those years ago. âBâsides, if he did tell you any stories about me, most people tend to assume Iâm a man. Easy mistake.â
She took another sip of her cocoa and offered Valerie an awkward nod in an attempt to be reassuring. âIf you donât mind me askinâ, dâyou undergo any physiological changes when you feed?â
