taxonomites | 023: [ visual ] / [ location: Hyperion Hotel ] Before I come undone

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023: [ visual ] / [ location: Hyperion Hotel ] Before I come undone

No, no, no -

"No!"

Cordelia wakes up with a start, sitting upright on her bed with her hands clutching her blanket like a lifeline. For several moments she looks around her in alarm, wondering where the hell she is and where the others are, wondering if this is another one of those times she unfortunately opened her eyes only to be sliced and diced again and--

Then she rests her head on her hands, and breathes. It's over now. It's over and done with and they're all safe but the images are still burned in her brain, like a vision that's been put on eternal loop.

Slowly - mindful of the pains that plague her - Cordelia gets out of bed. She looks down at herself, sees the numerous bandages that are wrapped around her body, and sighs.

And here she thought she'd be safe in Taxon. Pfft.

She gets up, and walks over to the mirror. Cordelia looks at her reflection, and bites her lip.

God.

"Mummy girl much?" she whispers.

[ ooc: backdated to a day after the horrors. ]

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Angel still doesn't say anything, just casually folds the top corner of the page he's on over and shuts the book. He sits back and presses his lips into a thin, unrelenting line as he leans back and shakes his head by way of answering.

Don't be fooled by all that calm, Cordelia. Beneath that he's still freaking out and shutting down like this is his way of keeping all that at bay.

Because really, this is what she needs right now. A non-conversation with a non-talking vampire.

Cordelia takes several deep breaths, trying to stop her heart from pounding so fast. "How long have you been there, anyway?"

Angel shuts his eyes for a moment and takes an unnecessary breath in, holds it, then lets it out. It does nothing for him, save helping him focus on the feel of air making is useless lungs expand and collapse again as a way of drawing his attention away from her heartbeat. When he opens them he speaks, but it's nothing more beyond, "A while."

"Okay, this is really getting creepy now," she says, crossing her arms in front of her. "What the hell is wrong with you, Angel? Did you, like, suddenly develop another curse that will kill you instantly if you at least try to participate in this conversation?"

...unsure of how to respond within the confines of this sort of pen he's put around himself to keep all he's holding back from tumbling out, Angel, once again, says nothing. He retreats into the book, opening it back up at the page he marked and gluing his eyes to the words and although he's reading them, he's not really absorbing them.

That's it.

The answer's simple, really. Cordelia walks up to him and snatches the book from his hands. She slams it shut and takes note of the title. "Gee. This one's not even Kama Sutra. I would've forgiven you if it was."

...no, she wouldn't.

It's not the Kama Sutra. It's Les Misérables in the original French, because Angel feels that translations take away from the original flow of stories and feels there's little point to reading those when he can read the original language it was printed in just fine. He's read Les Misérables several times before, but it's one of those that's easy to get lost in, especially since he remembers what France was like during the reigns of both Louis XVI and the infamous Napoleon Bonaparte during and after the mess that was the French Revolution. He's also been to Digne - and his mind automatically jumps to something he doesn't want right now by automatically associating the Société des Amis des Droits de L'homme et du Ctoyen with the city. A society which also called themselves the Cordeliers. And his thoughts go full circle with that bringing him back to Cordelia instead of away from her.

Angel's posture falters and he brings his hands up to cover his face in a futile attempt to cover up what he's hiding underneath now that the mask he was wearing has been shattered.

Okay. She can play this game, too.

"Gee, Angel, how was your day?" she says, in her normal voice.

Cordelia opens the book and pretends to read it. "Oh, I'm fine Cordy, just sitting here on my ass with my tongue cut off - which is why I can't speak. Either that or I've been glitched to the good old days where my idea of socialization is staring into the darkness and telling my dark, dreary past to a spider. What about yours?" ...for the record, she's doing a bad, bad imitation of you, Angel.

"Oh you know, just got sadistically tortured by some freaks. That was a hoot and a half."

She sighs, and then throws the book at him in anger. "Whatever. Hit me when you feel like opening your big fat mouth again." Cordelia makes a move towards her bed.

Angel doesn't even make a move to block it and lets the thing hit him in the chest. It manages to jolt him out of his last attempt at keeping those flood gates closed and let's go of that stubborn grip he had on his defenses and lifts himself out of the chair and moves in front of her, blocking her path to bed.

"How was my day?" He echos, voice cracking a bit in a way that matches, perfectly, that pained look on his face with unshed tears to match. "I nearly lost the woman I love again and I couldn't even bring myself to stake her captor, even though I had the chance to."

She blinks and steps back. The entire super speed thing? Not cool, Champ.

Oh, look - Angel's talking again. Great. The whole thing about him losing her didn't faze her as much as his next revelation did. "What?" she asks. "Drusilla's still alive? I mean-- she's not yet dusted?"

"No," he says, looking down at his feet in shame. "I couldn't. I wanted to, but I...couldn't. If I had the ability to stake her, I would've done so a long time ago. And she knows it, too. She did this to you, because of me. Because she's jealous. In her mind, you took me away from her. She didn't kill you, because she knew I'd want you back. Like borrowing a toy and returning it broke, but not beyond repair." Angel chuckles here, bitterly, looking back up. "Funny thing is? In her mind, she was doing me a favor by not killing you, because in this twisted sort of way I can't even begin to explain, a part of her is still loyal to me and that was her way of showing it. Have the Master seize you to extract her vengeance because I pay you more attention than I do her, but let you live."

The vampire steps away then, running a hand through his hair. He stares at the mirror, but sees nothing of himself and only Cordelia in the background. "There are rules here that I'm bound to. The hierarchy amongst us vampires. I'm her sire. I'm responsible for her actions. Couldn't be more right on the nail, could it? What happened to you was my fault. I thought being here would keep you safe from that, but..."

Where's he going with this? He doesn't know. He's angry at himself, angry at Drusilla and the Master and this place and the hamsters - did he mention himself? Angel wants to just turn around now and go to her, hug her, tell her it's all going to be alright, but he's suddenly afraid that if he does, she'll break due to the fact that she was targeted and tortured because of him.

She kept hearing those words in that room, too. Don't kill her. The Angel Beast will want her back. It's sick, twisted, deluded - Drusilla in three words, obviously.

Cordelia looks away, and crosses her arms again. "No," she says, stiffly. "What happened to me was her fault. I don't care if you're her sire or master or maker or whatever - you weren't the one who was cackling with glee every freakin' time those Extras did something to me in that room. You're not the one licking my wounds when--"

She covers her mouth, unwilling to relive that experience all over again. "I don't blame you for any of that. But I'm not a saint, Angel. I'm not gonna stand here and absolve her, too, because you bet your ass I want her dead. Maybe not by your hand, but by god I want her dusted - and I'm not the only one."

She's speaking for Godric, of course. Not that the former oldbie vamp has told her this, but she can guess.

He gets that she is. He'd smelled the older (former) vampire's scent in that place, though he regrettably admits that he didn't even notice it or actively sought out any signs of anyone else familiar until after Drusilla had said they. Cordelia and Godric, two people who'd played a vital role in Angelus' defeat. She'd had the vision of his soul being restored and Godric had taken him back to the hotel after River had taken him down. Angel knows why Drusilla didn't go after Dawn, despite the teenager being responsible for the actual re-ensouling via the gypsy curse, for Drusilla was fond of her. It was why she hadn't allowed him to kill her when he was Angelus. River, though... He doesn't understand why the girl wasn't targeted. She got off easy, whatever the reason.

"It's not that simple, Cordelia." Angel leaves it at that, for he doesn't want to fight with her on the complicated subject that is his creation, especially after what Drusilla did to her. "But, you're right. I can't do it. I wish I could and I want to, for you, but I can't. And I hate myself for it. But, I can't ignore her, either. She's my responsibility and I'll...figure out some way of dealing with her one I can think straight."

Which, in Angel-speak, means once he can think of something that doesn't involve going on another rock star trash fest in retaliation for being so unable to do anything about a situation that was now over and done with. He hadn't even noticed she was missing until Wes pointed it out. Maybe if he'd caught on sooner, Cordelia (and Godric and the others) could've been spared that experience. He should've noticed.

Edited 2010-05-29 11:34 (UTC)

Not that simple her ass. She wants to ask him why dusting Drusilla now is so hard to do, when Angel dusted Darla before without hesitation. His own sire. Is that easier to do, then? Maybe she should seek out Spike. Maybe the other souled vampire can do what Angel here can't.

Or maybe Angel did it because of Buffy--

No, god, no, she doesn't need to over-think and over-complicate this right now. Cordelia clutches her head and sways a bit - as nausea attacks her full force.

Edited 2010-05-29 11:44 (UTC)

It is different. Very different. Darla made him. She'd murdered him and damned him and then cast him aside after he'd gotten his soul back. While he might've let everyone, including himself, for the longest time believe that he'd staked her for Buffy, he'd largely done it for himself. Closure. Ending that part of his life and taking a step towards redemption by taking his sire out of the world so she'd no longer pose a threat to it and to him in having influence over him. With Drusilla, it was a matter of having completely destroyed the mind of an innocent human being who'd been gifted with the visions in much the same way Cordelia was and turning her into a monster in order to preserve that madness. She was his masterpiece, his favorite and he'd shaped her to be devoted to him above all others... Though he knew he was redeemed and no longer had that white light of at the end of the tunnel to work towards, he still wanted to make things right, somehow, with Drusilla. He just didn't know how and after this, he was even more lost on his direction in that endeavor.

All that, of course, is forgotten in favor of using that 'super speed' to his advantage and going to Cordelia to steady her, hands on her arms and eyes full of concern. He doesn't need to ask what it is, he can hear the movements of her stomach muscles in much the same way he could back in the day when baby Connor was hungry, but he does ask: "Do you need...?" He means the bathroom, a bowl, something to drink, to sit down, etc.

Cordelia cries out when he unintentionally presses on some of her cuts, and holds on to his arms in an attempt to make him loosen his hold on her. She sucks in her breath and closes her eyes. "No," she says quickly, swallowing the urge to throw up. It will pass, it will pass, it will pass...

Then she rethinks her answer, as her knees threatened to buckle from under her. "I think I just need to... sit down." Or lie down, but damn if she's going to admit that Wes is right, that she needs to rest.

He winces at his own carelessness and loosens his grip, fighting the urge to recoil. Just making things worse, just making it all worse... Angel, gently and carefully, helps her over to the bed.

She sighs, a bit relieved once she can feel the bed under her. Cordelia opens her eyes and smiles slightly at Angel, before tugging his hand - as if inviting him to sit with her as well. Right now, she really needs someone to lean on - literally and figuratively speaking, and Angel's bulk makes him an ideal wall right now.

And to be honest? She doesn't want to sleep. Not if the nightmares are going to start all over again.

"Stay?" she asks.

Edited 2010-05-29 12:28 (UTC)

Angel was just about to ask if she wanted him to leave (...he would've gone and brooded somewhere dark and gloomy in tribute to days long gone if she'd said yes), but she beats him to speaking and asks him to stay instead. He smiles, small and brief, and nods as he sits down beside her. "Of course."

She can sense when you're wanting to brood and deliberate over matters gloomily, Angel. Better get used to it.

Cordelia rests the side of her head on his chest, and concentrates on her breathing, waiting for the wooziness to pass. If he had a heartbeat, she would've been hearing it by now - but, it's actually better, more comforting that he didn't. She clutches his shirt with one hand and scoots closer, making herself more comfortable in the process. His presence, his familiar scent, everything about Angel is helping to soothe her now - and she's suddenly very, very grateful that they got to her - to all of them - just in time.

He'd refrained from touching her after accidentally aggravating her wounds, feeling largely like he wasn't (and hadn't been since learning of her capture) doing anything to help make the situation better for her. When she leans in though, he takes that as a sign that she wants to be touched and he does so, wrapping an arm around her form and bringing up his free hand to lay over the one of hers that's clutching his shirt. He dips his head and presses a kiss to her hair.

"I'm so sorry, Cordy."

About what? she almost asks - but Cordelia catches herself in time. "I feel like I should get a tattoo," she says, tightening her hold on his shirt. "Something that says, 'I don't blame my stupid manpire' for anything. You think that would look good on my forehead?"

"Your stupid manpire," he echos, unsure of whether or not he should be insulted, amused or flattered by that statement. He settles on taking the statement as something that's caught between affection and annoyance over his penchant for feeding his guilt complex that he'd shook back home after the time reset, but was managing to reconstruct here. "Whether or not you blame me isn't going to stop me from blaming myself, Cor."

She draws away and places one hand on his cheek. "Of course not," Cordelia says softly. "I just... want to make things easier for you, Angel. Why are you blaming yourself? You didn't do anything."

...especially with Drusilla, but that was already understood and something she didn't want to talk about again.

"Because if you weren't with me, she wouldn't have gone after you," he says simply and leans into her touch despite himself.

023: [ visual ] / [ location: Hyperion Hotel ] Before I come undone

[ location: cordelia's room ]

[ location: cordelia's room ]

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