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taxonomites2009-10-12 06:42 pm
a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2009-10-12 06:42 pm
001: Lab Specimens [Holo]
“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 him?”
She had missed it. Too caught up in the Slayer and her battles to remember to fight her own. No wonder it had been so hard for Daddy – no, not Daddy … the other one – to free himself from her. No wonder she’d been able to take the edge off Spike’s beautiful wickedness. Buffy Summers had made a web for them all, without even realising that she was weaving. It had been foolish of Drusilla to get so close, but the Slayer had taken her in and tended her – like a mouse pulling a thorn from a lion’s paw – and there had been nowhere else to go. She’d needed someone to take care of her after the tin soldiers had finished their work, and she and Buffy had been tied together a long time ago, whether the Slayer had seen it or not.
“We’re going to miss all the fireworks.”
Drusilla had been waiting and waiting for the party, waiting ever since the Dawn had arrived. There was a lock now, a solid something for the key to open, and the universe was going to shake with the force of it all.
Was. Would. Had. Drusilla couldn’t tell. It was all mixing together in her head, the past and the present and future, splintering and reforming.
Slowly, she raised a hand and ran a finger over the metal band at her other wrist. If she didn’t open her eyes, she wouldn’t have to see, but she could, she could.
“More science,” the vampire whispered, before dropping her wrist and clutching her temples with a shriek of fury. “No, no, no!”
She remembered waking up a gleaming white cell. She remembered the way the pixies had pulled desperately at her chip to try and save her from it. She remembered the pain that thundered through her head every time she thought her wicked thoughts or bared her teeth for something to eat. A broken vampire who couldn’t even bite. She remembered, she remembered, she remembered.
“No more wires,” she growled, opening her eyes, “No filthy little tricks. There’s no room in my head. You won’t put them there, you won’t.”
It was different, this room. Sleek and scientific, yes, but she didn’t recognise the edge to the metal. They’d taken her somewhere new. Maybe it would be worse than the wires. They wanted her to be a lab rat, racing round and round through mazes and through wheels. Well, she wasn’t going to play. Not for them. The Slayer would be coming soon. They’d burn this place to the ground and Drusilla would dance on the ashes and paint her face with charcoal streaks to make sure she didn’t forget.
Thoughts of Buffy’s fearsome retribution calmed Drusilla. After a moment or two, she began to make her way slowly around the room, contemplating important things – how to escape, the colour of a new moon, the lick of the flames already dancing inside her head.
“Is anybody here?” she asked, in a singsong voice, “You can come out and play with me. We can sing nursery rhymes.”
She wanted to play, even if the games had changed over the last few years. She was hungry. She was always hungry. She’d been hungry even since the tin men had bound her to pig’s blood and stopped her from drinking …
Her thoughts took her too far. Her hungry smile was replaced almost instantly with growl of pain, and she clutched her head and doubled up. When she looked up a moment later, her expression was almost petulant. That wasn’t fair. You couldn’t let her get caught up in the moment and then snap the vices back tight.
“That’s cheating.”
She had missed it. Too caught up in the Slayer and her battles to remember to fight her own. No wonder it had been so hard for Daddy – no, not Daddy … the other one – to free himself from her. No wonder she’d been able to take the edge off Spike’s beautiful wickedness. Buffy Summers had made a web for them all, without even realising that she was weaving. It had been foolish of Drusilla to get so close, but the Slayer had taken her in and tended her – like a mouse pulling a thorn from a lion’s paw – and there had been nowhere else to go. She’d needed someone to take care of her after the tin soldiers had finished their work, and she and Buffy had been tied together a long time ago, whether the Slayer had seen it or not.
“We’re going to miss all the fireworks.”
Drusilla had been waiting and waiting for the party, waiting ever since the Dawn had arrived. There was a lock now, a solid something for the key to open, and the universe was going to shake with the force of it all.
Was. Would. Had. Drusilla couldn’t tell. It was all mixing together in her head, the past and the present and future, splintering and reforming.
Slowly, she raised a hand and ran a finger over the metal band at her other wrist. If she didn’t open her eyes, she wouldn’t have to see, but she could, she could.
“More science,” the vampire whispered, before dropping her wrist and clutching her temples with a shriek of fury. “No, no, no!”
She remembered waking up a gleaming white cell. She remembered the way the pixies had pulled desperately at her chip to try and save her from it. She remembered the pain that thundered through her head every time she thought her wicked thoughts or bared her teeth for something to eat. A broken vampire who couldn’t even bite. She remembered, she remembered, she remembered.
“No more wires,” she growled, opening her eyes, “No filthy little tricks. There’s no room in my head. You won’t put them there, you won’t.”
It was different, this room. Sleek and scientific, yes, but she didn’t recognise the edge to the metal. They’d taken her somewhere new. Maybe it would be worse than the wires. They wanted her to be a lab rat, racing round and round through mazes and through wheels. Well, she wasn’t going to play. Not for them. The Slayer would be coming soon. They’d burn this place to the ground and Drusilla would dance on the ashes and paint her face with charcoal streaks to make sure she didn’t forget.
Thoughts of Buffy’s fearsome retribution calmed Drusilla. After a moment or two, she began to make her way slowly around the room, contemplating important things – how to escape, the colour of a new moon, the lick of the flames already dancing inside her head.
“Is anybody here?” she asked, in a singsong voice, “You can come out and play with me. We can sing nursery rhymes.”
She wanted to play, even if the games had changed over the last few years. She was hungry. She was always hungry. She’d been hungry even since the tin men had bound her to pig’s blood and stopped her from drinking …
Her thoughts took her too far. Her hungry smile was replaced almost instantly with growl of pain, and she clutched her head and doubled up. When she looked up a moment later, her expression was almost petulant. That wasn’t fair. You couldn’t let her get caught up in the moment and then snap the vices back tight.
“That’s cheating.”
no subject
"...Yeah, that's the short of it, definitely," he sighed. "But are you hurt or anything? I mean, beyond the whole. Kidnapped, abducted part."
no subject
It always passed, once the hunger did. No. Not the hunger. That never passed. It was always there, chewing away at the edge of her mind. The chip in her head didn't care about that. It only cared about the violence in her chest.
"Do you have a name? A knight should always have a name."
no subject
He gave a small, somewhat embarrassed chuckle. "Oh, I'm no, I'm nothing like that. Just asking after you, is all. My name's David." A necessary lie, but it wasn't as if she'd know that.
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"I'm Drusilla," she added, as an afterthought. She was a lot of things, far more than her name. But he didn't have to know that. Nobody did. Nobody looked. They were always underestimating her or forgetting to look beneath the surface. No wonder they got themselves into trouble.
no subject
There was a slightly awkward pause after that.
"Ah, then. Nice to meet you, Drusilla." It seemed a slightly old-fashioned name, but it was still nice. A thought occurred to him. "...Wh-what are you?" He tried to keep it conversational-sounding, but he wasn't used to asking such a question.
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"You don't look like a nothing. Aren't you flesh, and blood, and bone?" Her favourite things.
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"Well, yeah, that's what humans are made of."
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She'd never liked castles. Oh, she liked the age of them, but the walls had been filled with far too many stories. It made it much too hard to sleep. They all wanted to be told.
"And slugs and snails, if they're little boys."
no subject
"Instead of sugar and spice, right?" He remembered the old rhyme at least.
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"And all things nice," she finished. "You can call me 'your majesty', or just 'princess'."
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"Yeah, that's the one." He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed, because how often did he find himself talking to people, let alone princesses? Almost never and definitely never. "So. Um, have you found your way out yet? Princess," he added quickly.
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"Am I allowed to leave? Prisoners are usually kept on tight reins. Too tight to breathe."
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"I know that's how it is usually, but. You're allowed to go anywhere here. Mostly. Just not out of the city."
no subject
Or when there wasn't enough people for her to entertain herself with.
no subject
As opposed to too-loud gunfire, and shouted orders. No, Bruce would take silence over that any day of the week.
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"What sort of games are there to play here?" she inquired, suddenly, shaking away unpleasant thoughts to focus dark eyes on her new friend once more.
no subject
"Well, there's uh. Don't know about games, but it seems you can do most anything here. I think I saw some people playing video games, and exploring the city, and. Things like that."
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"I like exploring," she admitted. "Is there anywhere nice to get lost?"
no subject
no subject
If she got lost, then someone - the Slayer, or her Spike, or perhaps even the red witch, if she was following instructions - would have to come and find her.