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@knightinbroodingarmor-blog
knightinbroodingarmor replied to your post:[pm] Hey, Freya. I have tickets to see the London Philharmonic if youâd like to join me.
[pm] Iâm sure. I want to go with someone who will enjoy it as much as I will.
[pm] Well, itâs⊠Itâs really generous, Angel. Iâll absolutely go with you.
[pm] It's nothing. I'm just glad to have the company. How are things?
Oh, the Guilt || Angel & Freya
Lately, it seemed as if things had gone from bad to worse. Freya hadnât even had time to recover from the island before the riots had started, and she was still recovering from those when Slayers and demons had been revealed to the entire world. Part of her knew that all of it traced back to what she had done on the island. The island had caused the riots, and the riots had caused the revelation, and that had caused so many more terrible things. Kennedy being attacked, Tess being arrested, people frantically searching for Slayers and Watchers and other supernatural beings so that they could⊠Freya wasnât sure what they planned on doing. Judging by the way people had been treated so far, she was sure that whatever people had in mind for her and others like her, it wasnât pleasant.Â
She didnât want to think about that now, though. She had other things on her mind. Sheâd been surprised when sheâd gotten the message from Angel; sheâd thought that they were on the verge of becoming friends before, and was waiting to hear back from him about her interview at AI, but then Angelus had showed up and everything had changed. Many people in the Council had been angry with Angel, and while Freya could understand it, she wasnât sure that it was his fault. He hadnât been himself. Sheâd wanted to tell him that, but before sheâd gotten the chance, sheâd found herself on the island, and after that things had moved so quickly that sheâd simply forgotten. She was glad to get the message from him, though, and she was excited to get the chance to sit down and talk to him, despite everything going on.
After she knocked, she didnât have to wait long for an answer. Angel was there almost before sheâd had the chance to pull her hand away from the door. She gave him the friendliest smile she could muster up, but with everything going on, it wasnât very impressive.
âItâs good to see you again, Freya,â he said, and she nodded in agreement.  âThe tea is just about ready if you want to take a seat in the kitchen. Thereâs some pastries too.â
"Oh, fantastic," she said, heading towards the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. She grabbed a pastry and smile graciously at Angel as he filled her mug with tea. It felt nice just to sit down and relax for a moment, with everything happening. Tea and pastries couldnât fix everything that was wrong with the world, but they could help her forget. Of course, they couldnât help her forget for long.
âSo honestly, how have you been holding up since youâve been back?â
Freya hesitated a moment. She considered lying to him, saying sheâd been all right. He had his own things to worry about, after all. But it didnât seem fair to lie to him. He obviously cared enough to invite her over, make tea, and buy an impressive stock of pastries. She owed him an honest answer.
"Honestly?" she repeated the word with a slight shake of her head. "I⊠not great."
Some people had this inherent goodness in them that made Angel feel bound to shield them from the harsh truths of this world. He saw that quality in Freya, but it was already too late to protect her not that he was quite sure he was the greatest protector in the world these days. When he first met her, he could tell she had a certain amount of kindness in her. She never once judged him for what he was and just wanted to help save people while still being a musician. Angel believed the latter could save people as well and maybe it could be something that saved her. He at least hoped as much. As familiar as Angel was with the world of guilt, he knew he couldnât just tell her to let it go. That sort of thing came with time to heal. Understanding helped. Empathy helped. In general, just some sort of connection made pushing through just a little more bearable. She had been gratefully been taking the pastry as he knew she would. For a brief second, he could almost see her as just a normal girl. He could picture her with a life all her own that included spending her days practicing and composing. She had enough talent as a musician for her life purpose to be music and music alone, but she also had something in her that made her so much more than that.
Angel believed that the chosen were naturally stronger than most people. Maybe not physically and maybe not even emotionally, but heâd been around long enough to know that it was strength of spirit that made someone a fighter. Freya had that; Angel had no doubt about it. The answer to his question was also expected. From his talk with Maggie, he knew she wasnât doing well. The guilt stuck with her which only furthered his thoughts on her spirit. He looked down momentarily, not quite sure of how to articulate something helpful, but he needed to try. Sheâd been trudging through this too long and heâd done nothing to help. Quietly, he said, âI thought so. Sure it doesnât help things havenât been getting better.â
He mentally cursed himself. That was hardly anything in the way of advice, but he didnât want to push questions. He could guess how she was feeling based on her slumps shoulders and tired eyes. Maggieâs words werenât even needed. Heâd seen the same defeated posture in himself and others enough times to know. Instead of drawing the words out of her, knowing how much he and everyone else besides Cordy seemed to hate that, he decided to just dive in. He said, âItâs okay to feel bad. I know a lot of people are probably trying to make you feel better and itâs nice to have that, but in my experience it usually doesnât take away everything weâre feeling inside.â The words came falling out easier than he expected. Words werenât really his thing. He loved reading them, but speaking them was always hard for him. He always worried what he said would make things worse. Maybe they were. All he knew right now was that he owed it to Freya to at least try. He added on, âIâm not sure what exactly it is youâre feeling, but itâs not wrong. Maybe writing a new song or two would help?â He paused before awkwardly throwing in, âSometimes drawing relaxes me.â
Oh, the Guilt || Angel & Freya
Of all the things Angel was supposed to be feeling right now, he didnât think guilt was supposed to be one of them. However, given the circumstances, it was. They had gotten to know each other a bit before Sabine stole his soul and he hadnât even bothered to talk to her since heâd gotten back. Even after sheâd gone through hell on that island. He thought heâd been doing the right thing. Most of the Council wanted nothing to do with him and he thought giving her space had been the respectful thing to do. Yet after a conversation with Maggie, he finally talked to her and she seemed receptive enough. Not quite what she was before, but he had the feeling that was more to do with her than it was with him. Heâd been too absorbed in his own cycle of self loathing that he had missed someone elseâs⊠someone he could maybe help. And he should have been grateful he maybe had a real way to help these people he cared about again that wasnât in the obvious slice and dicing demons way. This was more than that and he knew he had to do what he could. Freya had to move past the undeserved guilt she was feeling and maybe he was the guy for that. He spent enough of his time feeling guilty and even he found things to smile about again.
A small part of him knew he wasnât the best at talks, but heâd have to go from experience here. With the world they lived in, bad things happened and sometimes you had to do bad things for some so called greater good. That had been Freyaâs situation. Destroy dimensions or face her own death and that of her home dimension. It was a gray area, but the fault went to the sick guy that sent them there in the first place. Angel knew better than to know that would take away the guilt. He knew the tea he was brewing likely wouldnât do much to help that either. It took a lot of time and a lot of perspective. The tea was relaxing though and he did invite her over for just that. He wished he could be happy to get to see her again, but the less than happy circumstances made it hard to shake the bleak feeling looming over him. Everything lately had seemed to be spiraling out of control. The supernatural was common knowledge and everyone had been broken in some way at this point. Once the supernatural was part of your life, it seemed there was no avoiding the troubling events that followed which made him sad for Freya. He could almost imagine an alternate world where she was a world famous violinist and carrying these burdens. It was far too late for that. She knew what she knew and there was no turning back from that.
Angel heard her footsteps down the hall before he heard the knock. Already by the door, he opened it up and gestured for her to come inside. He mustered a feeble smile and said, âItâs good to see you again, Freya.â He was at a loss of what to say next. Jumping right into it might scare her away,but he would have to get to the important stuff at some time. Tea, first though. âThe tea is just about ready if you want to take a seat in the kitchen. Thereâs some pastries too.â He wasnât sure what her favorite had been, so heâd opting for buying one of each kind. What Freya didnât eat, Fred, Cordy, or Oz would. He brought the pot over to the table and poured some in a mug for her and set it back down. He took the seat across from her, observing her carefully, trying to think of what would help him in a time like this. Instead he decided to assess the situation on his own. He didnât want her to know he already knew what was going on with her. It seemed to invasive. Instead he asked, âSo honestly, how have you been holding up since youâve been back?â
[pm] The island was⊠yeah. A lot of things have been rough since then.
[pm] I can only imagine. Is there anything I can help with? You could come over for tea some time if you wanted.
[pm] Iâm doing as well as I can be right now, I think. Itâs okay. Thereâs sort of been a lot going on lately, yeah?
[pm] Yeah, I heard about the whole island... I wasn't sure-- There's always a lot going on. Is there anything in particular that's been rough?Â
[pm] Thank you. And let me know how it goes.Â
[pm] You don't have to thank me. I will let you know. I hope it helps.
What are your IEG ships?
So I've answered this question a lot of times. Like at least four times on each blog so you can look on the OOC tag here or here.Â
What up in the ABQ?
The what?
[pm] Would you? Talk to her I mean.Â
She likes you still. Sheâ she talked about you on her first night back from the island. So I think she would be happy to hear from you. And if thereâs a chance it might help in anyway thenâŠ..then I suggest you do it.Â
[pm] I'll talk to her.
I-- well, that's good to know. I wasn't sure if she would be and I didn't want to upset her. I'll see what I can do.Â
[pm] Freya is torturing herself over what happened on the island. Sheâs only admitted a small amount to me, but from what she says and the way she is, I know thereâs more. She told me she feels she committed genocide by destroying dimensions to save humanityâŠ..she feels it all terribly and nothing I or anyone else says seems to bear any weight and I want to help her, and as much asâ I mean, I know she seems to like you. And I am far from comparing what you did to her, it doesnât even come into the same category or anything butâŠ.you manage to carry on donât you? You have this guilt, but you learn that youâre notâ that you canât keep going over it, donât you?
God, I donât know why Iâm even telling you this or askingâŠI donât even know what Iâm asking.Â
[pm] It's a lesson I had to relearn quite a few times. The thing with guilt is it's not always rational. Freya can know she didn't really have a choice in the matter and still feel bad that she acted anyway. Her only other option was doing nothing which would have left all of us dead. She was put in a situation where either way she lost and that's going to take time for her to get over. All you can do is be there for her, which I'm sure you're already doing. You can remind her of who is really to blame, but I'm not sure how much it will do until she believes it herself.Â
I know what helps for me is being reminded of all the things I have left to do that need doing. It doesn't necessarily erase the guilt, but it gives purpose.
I think it's because you know I'm familiar with guilt and that's alright. I haven't talked to her since everything happened, but I could try if you think it might help. I wasn't sure if she really wanted to talk to me or not.
madmaggiewells replied to your post:[pm] Angel, I need to ask you something.
[pm] To be perfectly frank, youâre rather well versed in theâŠ.well, the bearing guilt thing arenât you?
[pm] I wouldn't expect anything less than frank. I am, yeah. Comes with the being a murderer and having a soul territory. Why do you ask?
[pm] Angel, I need to ask you something.
[pm] Hi, I wasn't expecting to Hi, Maggie. What do you need to ask?
Tooth And Claw || Gen & Angel
He hadnât known it was her. He hadnât wanted to fight. As soon as she lowered her stake, Angel stepped back, his entire manner changing as though he became a wholly different person. He wasnât, though. Angel had always had anger in him, some kind of beast. The soul didnât take that away, it just gave you the moral capability to reject it, to push it down. Rage bubbled in her, but sadness joined it in a cocktail that made her dizzy. What would she have been like without a soul? Comparible to Angelus? No. She couldnât have been. Nobody was that relentlessly cruel. Gen brushed wayward strands of hair back from her face. Neither of them knew how to look at each other, both cluelessly lost. The stake felt rough and heavy in her hands. It was only when Gen forced herself to put it away that she realized her palm was sweating and the ferocity of her heart pounding in her chest wasnât entirely due to the adrenaline of the fight. âIâ yeah, probably should. Sorry.â It was almost sad, seeing him like this, a sheepish little waif of a thing for a vampire who was over six feet tall and build like a solid oak wardrobe. He didnât even have any spark left in him. Was the only way he could emote when he was introducing himself fist-first to other vampires, other creatures of the night who were free from his curse of memory and morality? âDoesnât matter.â She wasnât the one who would have been dust in the wind. He hadnât attempted to harm her, only defend himself. That much was clear now. Being overcome by him still left a bitter, acidic taste in her mouth, though. Knowing he could overcome her if she wanted toâ Ugh. It made her sick, doubly so when her mind drifted to the thoughts of people he had already overcome, people who kicked, screamed and cried. He had not only failed to listen, but he had enjoyed it, got off on it⊠Her head span. She felt dizzy. Not enough air. She took foosteps, away, just to have something to do with her legs, somewhere to avert her eyes. Gen scanned the area, eyes darting toward bushes and mausoleums. âWere you after anything in particular? Should I remain armed?â Hiding moments of weakness behind signs of strength was something Penelope had taught her. âYou patrol now.â She nodded. âYou really have been away a while, havenât you?â âYouâve got a really good right hook.â A bitter snicker left her lips, but she raised her eyebrows with a rush of confidence. She was two for two on punching ensouled vampires in the face. âYou donât have to do this.â Her words were plain but more than a hint of bitterness and anger laced them. âCompliment me, play the nice guy. Itâs⊠Youâre trying to help people. Fine. I can accept that. But youââ Killed someone I loved. Tortured someone else I loved, along with another one of my friends. Made my mum stay up worried sick for weeks on end. âI just canât look at you without thinking about the people you hurt.â There had to be people in the world who couldnât look at her, either. There were. She heard from them frequently, privately or publicly. Had Angel been a victim of his vampirism just as she had been a victim of Roden? It seemed so unfair, to forgive one but not the other, but she never could be accused of flawless judgement. She was tainted by the deep cut of emotion. The fact Angel was still standing was just as much her fault as anyoneâs. She could have used Ezraâs information to gather a party and insist he be slain, but she couldnât make that call, even then. She hadnât been able to choose who lived and who died when they had hope for something else. âAre you⊠doing better?â she added, her voice quiet. There had to be hope in him, still. There had to be.
There wasnât anything immediately in sight that needed slaying, but Angel had the hunch the grave a few down would be unsettled soon. Before his nightly patrols, Angel had taken to looking at deaths in the newspaper to see which ones were likely caused by vampires. It was a good tactic in case they had been turned. Better to dust them before they had any chance to hurt anyone. Of course not every vampire caused death led to a new vampire. He had just been taking extra precautions these days. After all, he tried to avoid the more common Slayer patrol areas as most didnât want to see him. He figured Gen was one of the Slayers that did not want to see him, but she was being cordial enough. It was always hard to tell who was going to forgive him and who wouldnât so heâd done a good enough job of keeping to himself. The slightly icy edge to her voice indicated sheâd rather not see him, but she wasnât out to dust him so that was good enough for him. He quickly answered her question, âI think there may be a vampire rising from its grave soon, but weâll see. You can probably drop the stake for now.â He motioned over at a headstone a few feet down that read Michael Andrews. The same name heâd seen in the obituary section only a few hours earlier.
Apparently Gen patrolling had been happening for a while now. He hadnât realized as much, but it was easy to assume it happened while he was soulless. Otherwise he probably wouldâve known, not that theyâd been particularly close to begin with, but once upon a time he had gotten on well with her mom. The realization made him feel particularly uncomfortable. He sheepishly said, âYeah, I guess I have been. Good for you, though.â And maybe it wasnât good, but if she was patrolling she had to be doing better around violence. It at least indicated some sort of healing which made him a little bit glad though it was best not to say as much. He just hoped she stayed safe. Theyâd already lost too many Slayers and Gen was a good girl who deserved better than the cards sheâd been dealt. Then again, he thought that of all the girls. They were heroes and sure it gave their life some added meaning, but it took away their chances of a normal life and surrounded them with pain and death.
When Gen spoke again, Angel was caught a bit off guard. He hadnât really been trying to do much of anything but comment on something. Playing the nice guy hadnât been the goal; he just wanted to be nice to her because if anything it was the least she deserved, especially from him. Her words stung more than he let on. He couldnât and didnât expect for her to be able to separate him from what he did without the soul. It was his body that had done the damage even if it wasnât his conscious decision, but part of him hoped maybe she understood. He looked down, rubbing a hand nervously over the back of his neck and said, âYou donât even have to accept that, I do get it. Without my soul I hurt people you cared about, that doesnât just go away once the soul returns.â It didnât go away for him either. His more recent victims all haunted his nightmare making it nearly impossible to sleep for more than an hour or so, but it was the question that followed that surprised him.
Angel knew Genevieve had a sense of compassion, but making sure he was alright was really stretching that farther than it needed to go. In a way, it was nice she probably wanted him to be doing better even if it was only for the sake of others. He wouldnât forget that it probably was. Him and Gen being friends? It just didnât seem likely. Slowly, he nodded, and responded, âI am, yeah. Iâm notââ He realized doing well might sound like everything heâd done meant nothing to him which was far from true. âIâm not cutting myself slack, Iâve just been burying myself in cases which is better than being a shut away⊠or at least more useful.â There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but he realized it risked upsetting her. It wasnât as if they both forgot the things he did, so he just asked, âAre they doing any better?â He looked down almost immediately realizing he probably earned himself a verbal lashing.
Sheâll be alright. We did settle you were my work wife a while back. Think sheâll be fine.Â
As long as we don't hurt Buffy's feelings, wifey.
Ya might call it uncanny. :)
Thanks, Fred.
A vision passes through dark of midnight The knight in brooding armor glitters grey in the fog He stands tall against darkness And so does his hair Thanks to mousse that works miracles And his own special flair Though his soul is sordid And battered and bruised His soldiered on for the champion was not yet done   But why a forehead so wide Contains such a small mind Is a mystery that will trouble us for years to come
Well, color me flattered. Be careful. Buffy might get jealous.
