taxonomites | 010: [visual] & [location: Hyperion Hotel] Don't mean to sound all movie-of-the-week or anything

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010: [visual] & [location: Hyperion Hotel] Don't mean to sound all movie-of-the-week or anything

"Guys, let's have a chat, shall we? I'll go to the hotel. You better be there when I come in." These words were spoken in a sweet tone, but the intent behind them was far from sweet. Finally, finally after several weeks of wondering - should I, shouldn't I ask? - Cordelia had come to a decision. And it wasn't pretty.

She went to a hatch and took out a bottle of vodka - something she deemed was necessary for her chat with Angel and Wesley. She'd get one man drunk or bash the other over the head with it - whatever's necessary to get some answers. She's tired of playing the ignorant role that they've unwittingly assigned to her, and damnit, Cordelia was going to listen to how the hell her friends ended up working for the enemy. She knew she wouldn't like it - but at least she would know.

"Angel?" she called, stepping into the hotel. She deposited her tablet on the counter. "Wesley! Where are you? I need to--"

BAM.

The room spun, and somewhere in her head there was an incessant buzzing. The bottle she held crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces and spraying liquid everywhere. Cordelia took several steps back, her mind numb and aching and geez, was it a vision? Impossible! Visions weren't supposed to hurt anymore since she was--

--lost?

When she opened her eyes, she found herself alone in a lobby of some sort. There was a broken bottle in front of her; where did it come from? Frowning, she avoided the mess and looked around. No. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't!

"Hello?" she called timidly, heading towards the counter. "Anyone here?" She picked up a phone-like thing and peered at it curiously. "What... where the hell am I?"

[Cordelia's amnesia glitch. Hello salty confusion!]

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She looks up, seeing a man coming downstairs to... talk to her. Right? He must have heard her call out. Oh thank god.

"Are--are you the manager?" she ventures, looking around her. "Of-- the hotel? I mean, this is a hotel, right?"

See Wesley freeze.

Oh lord.

"Cordelia?" Wesley asks softly, slowly and carefully walking toward her. "We're in the Hyperion. My name is Wesley; we've worked together for two and a half years. Does any of this ring a bell?"

No no no, not here, he pleads in his mind. Not Jasmine. Not here.

Despite his soft tone, she still took several steps back.

"Wesley?" she repeats. No, it doesn't ring a bell. Should it?

When she steps back, Wesley stops advancing, clearly concerned. "What do you remember?" he asks, still softly.

She rubs her arms, frowning deeply. This man is asking her what she remembers, and she's supposed to answer that why, again?

True enough, when she looks at him again there's a discernible frost in her tone. "Why?"

"Because this has happened to you before," Wesley replies after a moment's pause. "You were very, very ill, then. There is no reason for you to trust me, I know. But I'm your friend, and I'm very worried that you may be ill again."

No. The urge to refute that comes to her quickly.

"I'm not crazy," she says, misunderstanding his words. Oh god, is she? Is this place some sort of... asylum?

"I'm not!"

"What? Of course not," Wesley says quickly, surprised at her conclusion. "You're one of the sanest people I know." For a certain definition of sane, but that's not the point.

He tries again. "When I say, ill, I honestly mean, there was something wrong, and we didn't see it. That . . . disease," technically true, Wesley supposes, "hurt you terribly."

"Please. I can't imagine what you're going through right now, and I'll help you in any way I can, but I want to make sure you're all right."

Not an asylum, then. A hospital? But it doesn't look like--

God, what's going on? She blinks at Wesley. The man is clearly distraught. Over her? But why? She doesn't even know him. Although, if what he's saying is true - that he knows her and that they've been friends for so and so years, then he's safe. Right? He won't... hurt her?

"I'm not... in pain," she finally answers, after a long moment of silence. "I don't know what-- I don't know."

Wesley stops himself from moving forward to give her a hug. "I know," he nods slowly. "And I know you have no reason to trust me. But I beg of you, please, let me help. Let me make sure you're not sick, and then I will do whatever you want, whatever I can, to help you remember."

After a few seconds of internal questions and deliberating, she finally nods at him.

Here's hoping she isn't making the biggest mistake of her life.

"Thank you," he breathes. "Thank you so much."

He glances around the lobby. "Would you rather stay down here, or come upstairs? It's a very simple test, and then afterward we can do whatever you'd like."

"No!" she says quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes travel to the door. If this Wesley's going to do something weird to her, it's better if she has the option to run like hell.

"Here is good. I like it here. Here is... better than upstairs."

Wesley's hands come up, palms facing her. "All right, it's all right," he soothes, walking over to one of the couches. "Would you like to sit down?"

Keeping a covert eye on her, he moves to one of the hatches in the lobby and quickly hatches what he needs. After having the two women he cared for most destroyed from the inside out, he committed this spell to memory. Unlike demonic possession, he'd found, the presence of immense immortal power was easy to spot with the right incense and a few golf-ball-sized crystal orbs.

Still keeping a safe distance from him, she goes to sit on the couch he has indicated - only to yelp a second later.

"Oh, god - how did... I mean, what's...?" There's some general flailing and confusion as to how the hell he has managed to do that - make things appear out of nowhere.

"And what are those?" she demands, pointing at the crystal orbs. "When you said test, don't you mean... like, needles?"

Edited 2009-11-06 06:51 (UTC)

Oh dear.

"These are hatches," he starts, gesturing to the hatch. "They're out main source of supplies here. We don't know how they work, but they give us whatever we need simply by touching here and thinking of what we require."

Then he holds up the orbs. "You know how, when you have a cold, there are tiny particles in your breath that carry the bacteria and infect those around you? I'm going to test for something similar. This incense has a unique chemical property which will bind to the 'bacteria,' if you're sick, and the resulting chemical combination will bounce off the crystal structures in these orbs, making them appear to glow red." There was more to the explanation, but that was the gist of it, really. "In short, when I light the incense, you'll breathe it in, and breathe out onto the crystals, and if they light up red, you're ill. If they light up white, you're fine."

He offered her a small smile. "I'll do it first, if you'd like, to show you."

Okay. Weirder and weirder, this man.

"Sure. Go nuts with it," she says. Her eyes on the crystal orbs, she mutters, "So... this is like, you know, alternative medicine or something? You practice... err, astrology?"

Wesley can't help but grin. "Sort of." He sets the incense in its holder and walks over to place it on the top center part of the couch, lights the tip, and blows it out, setting it smoking. Holding the three orbs in one hand in a triangle, he leans over, takes a deep breath of the thin trail of smoke, and blows it out onto the orbs as if he's blowing out a candle.

The orbs gently start to glow in a firefly-like effect, gentle white light shining for a few moments before fading away.

She can't help but feel fascinated as she watches the whole thing.

"Okay, so... you're not sick. Obviously. I mean, that's... what you said before, right? White means you're okay."

"Precisely," Wesley nods. "What do you think? Ready to try?"

Is she? Oh god.

She blinks at him, his image becoming blurry for a second. "If... if that thing says I'm sick... then what?"

"Then I'm going to do everything in my power to help you get better, as soon as possible," he replies, quietly and sincerely.

It's the sincerity in his words that makes her walk closer towards him. She holds out her hands, palms up.

"What am I supposed to do, again?"

She may just be prolonging the inevitable. After all, the moments leading up to finding out if one is sick or not? Those aren't pretty. In fact, they are downright frightening.

Wesley gently places the orbs in her hand, holding on to them until he's sure she won't drop them. It's awkward trying to hold all three at once, but not difficult.

"Just hold on to these, just like that," he says softly, reaching over with his other hand to grab the incense holder. "Then take a deep breath of the smoke, and blow it out onto the orbs as if you're blowing out candles on your birthday cake."

She nods at him, then slowly follows his instructions.

Please please please please please

"Well. Happy birthday."

Before she has the chance to chicken out, she takes a deep breath, and immediately blows it out onto the orbs.

She experiences a moment of dread, watching for any sign that the orbs will glow red.

Oh god oh god oh god please please please...

They don't. Much like Wesley's, the orbs glowed gently, but are unmistakably white.

[location: Hyperion]

[location: Hyperion]

[location: Hyperion]

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[Totally making up teh magic]

[ <3 ]

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