taxonomites | [ visual ] | [ location: casa lehane ] if wellness is this what in hell's name is sickness

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[ visual ] | [ location: casa lehane ] if wellness is this what in hell's name is sickness

Faith has been in Taxon for nearly a year, now. As the date creeps up, she's been withdrawing little by little; Connor's staying in her place, sure, but he can read the vibes and let her keep her space. Even the trips to see Godric and Eric have dropped off, because there's the upswing in maturity she's working with and talking about her shit. One is a work in progress, the other isn't her thing and never will be.

So when her tablet helpfully clicks over to visual, it films Faith's lower back for a moment, the sheets tangled around her legs. She hasn't been sleeping well lately, her dreams restless and weird. So when she rolls over and sees the ghost sitting on the side of her bed, she assumes it's more dreaming.

"Don't have time for this shit." Her mutter is audible but slurred, and she rolls over, exposing the edge of her underwear. "Sleeping."

It only takes a moment for her to wake up fully, though, Slayer instincts rocketing her into consciousness. "...Boss?" She almost sounds hopeful. No response, and her expression goes shattered, nakedly heartbroken before hardening again. "What, the First wasn't enough? Back the hell off me and take off his face."

When the ghost doesn't respond she scrambles out of bed, her movements uncharacteristically jerky and awkward. "I said get the hell out of my apartment." The beer bottle that crashes against the wall has no effect, the Mayor's placid expression doesn't change, his hand still reaches out to her. "Get the fuck out, now."

Another beer bottle, and her tablet shows her face growing panicked as the Mayor crawls closer, Faith scooting back as fast as she can to stay out of reach. "You're not him." It's quiet, desperate, to herself, and the feed closes on her slamming a fist into the ground hard enough her dresser rattles and repeating it, even more quiet and desperate. "You're not him."

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Godric steps in immediately, sparing a moment to thank Connor very briefly before disappearing -- literally, to Connor's eyes -- into the bedroom. Without missing a beat, he grabs Faith around the waist and pulls her bodily out of the room, shutting the door firmly in their wake. It registers that Faith is clothed only in her underwear, but he doesn't think twice about it, more concerned with her emotional state.

Turning her to face him, he takes her face gently in his hands.

"Faith?" Time to ground her in reality, away from ghosts.

Faith blinks slowly, trying to get the image of the Mayor-- bleeding out, reaching for her (why weren't you there, faith, why didn't you fight with me)-- out of her head.

"Yeah, I--" her voice breaks, and she coughs loud and painful. "I'm fine." But she doesn't shove Godric away, even with Connor studiously ignoring them on the couch, which says everything about how fine she is.

Godric doesn't buy it, of course, but neither does he pry. This is not the time to ask invasive questions like, 'who was that' and 'what happened?' Instead, with one hand still on Faith's arm, he cracks open the door and peeks in, and finds that the ghost is no longer there.

"He's gone now." He peers back at Faith, waiting for the calm to settle more convincingly in her eyes.

"Pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place." Faith's voice is shaky, the attempt at bravado laughably bad. Normally she'd be shoving Godric away, trying to get things set in her own head. (Build the walls back up.) But that was Wilkins in there, and more than Wes or Angel or Diana or mommy dearest, he's her weak point.

"No, I imagine not," he replies, letting the bravado slide. Sometimes people need the walls they put up, and don't need to be called on having them. Sometimes it's the only thing keeping them together. Carefully opening the door further, he looks around more thoroughly, but there's no ghost hiding in the corners. There is, however, a lot of broken glass.

"We'll have to sweep up before you can go back in there on bare feet." Focusing on the practicalities of the moment is good for one's sense of equilibrium, especially when it's just been shot to hell. Here Faith, have something to focus on. Where's the broom?

Faith hesitates at the door of her room, visibly leery of passing the threshold. "It's cool if you just leave it. Jesus I need a drink." That last is muttered, and she's quickly retreating to the kitchen to grab something harder than beer. And she probably owns a broom somewhere, Godric, but good luck finding it. (Connor probably has a better idea than she does.)

"Whatever, doesn't matter." She doesn't so much mean her cut feet, but let's say she does and leave it at that.

Godric can't help but notice that Faith's feet are bleeding, and it's with some amount of exasperation that, for the second time in as many minutes, Godric grabs Faith by the waist and lifts her off her feet. This time he deposits her on the couch and crouches in front of her.

"There is only a certain amount of self-destructive I can take before I tire of it, and that's saying something, coming from me." What he means by that, to those not in the know, is anyone's guess. But the uncompromising expression on Godric's face implies that Faith isn't getting off of this couch until Godric says so. Before she can protest, he speaks to Connor on the couch next to them.

"Connor, would you please get Faith something to drink? Something very alcoholic. And a damp wash cloth as well, if you don't mind." His tone and phrasing are polite, but there's an edge that suggests he'll start ordering people around if he has to.

Connor, who's been content with pretending he's not there and focusing on the video game he's playing on Faith's rather sweet television pauses the game and puts the controller down without so much as a second thought. "Sure," he says, getting up.

Into the kitchen he goes and after a moment, Connor returns with a bottle of tequila and the damp cloth. He hands the bottle to Faith and the cloth to Godric, then goes back to the couch to resume his game.

Edited 2010-06-21 07:56 (UTC)

Wesley has never been to Faith's before, but he finds it on the map and rushes over. He even bangs open the door...

To find a half naked Faith seated on the couch with a dark haired man (who looks vaguely familiar) crouched in front of her tending to her feet and the young man whom Angel has been spending time with sitting there calmly beside them playing a video game.

He blinks and then tries to regain his composure. And not to look anywhere near Faith's ample bosom.

Faith still looks a little out of it, and she doesn't even try to pull away from Godric and get off the couch as Wes busts in the door. (For those of you playing the home game, that means shit is seriously wrong.)

"I told you I could handle it, Wes." Somebody else is going to have to make introductions, because Faith sucks at them normally. Right now, they're lucky she's gone tractable instead of hysterical.

Godric just turns his head to give Wes a look when he bursts in. It's a look that says, quite clearly, 'don't you knock?' But he recalls Wes as a rather interesting person he has yet to become well-acquainted with, and he's obviously concerned for Faith, so the look only lasts an irritated moment before Godric lets it drop. He returns to his task of checking Faith's feet for shards and speaks over his shoulder.

"If you'd like to help, there's glass in the bedroom that needs to be swept up, and Faith is getting cold. She could do with a robe, or something similar." Not that Godric doesn't appreciate Faith's assets, but there's a time and a place.

Connor tears his eyes away from where they've been glued to the screen at the sound of that knocking, not at all expecting to have his eyes fall upon Wesley of all people. He'd have caught his presence sooner, if he'd been paying attention to his other senses, but such was tuning the rest of the world out and focusing on glorious, glorious video games. (Trying to achieve a high score while sitting next to your naked weird big sister figure and the vampire she sleeps with. Connor, what is your life?) He pauses and sets the controller down for a third time and rises to his feet.

"Wesley, Godric." The teenager gestures to the vampire. "Godric, this is Wesley. Faith's Watcher." ...okay, so he's not really clear on how that even works or if it's still in effect, but it's what he's familiar with when it comes to Wes and Faith, so that's what he's going to go with. Besides, it helps give reason to Wes' presence.

Deciding to bow out for a moment, Connor tells Godric, "I'll get a robe," and heads to Faith's bedroom to do just that. This is mostly for Wes' benefit.

Wesley focuses on Godric's face which at least is not out of bounds and he nods, grateful for Connor's (if he recalls correctly) introduction. It surprises him that the youth knows his relationship - or more accurately former relationship - with Faith.

"She looked in a bad way when I spoke to her on the tablet. I thought it best I check to see if she was going to be alright."

He glances down at her now bandaged feet. She's a slayer and will heal quickly, but he ponders whether to hatch some antibiotics to be on the safe side. Then he sees the Tequila which he eyes with faint disapproval.

It's probably not what he would have suggested to calm the nerves, but the likelihood of Faith letting him fetch her a cup of tea is as high as Faith telling him he's a wicked cool Watcher.

"Ex-Watcher," Faith mutters, because there is not one single moment in all of time she'll let anyone forget Wesley left her to rot alone in the dark. Wilkins is a product of Wesley, if you ignore the rest of her problems (which is always nice, having someone else to blame) and having them in the same space fucks with her head. "He bailed. And she can hear you talking, Wes. Probably because she's right freaking here."

Her tone is less barbed than she would like, and the nails she digs into her palm cut the skin open. "Godric, my feet are fine, quit screwing with them."

Edited 2010-06-22 03:14 (UTC)

Godric nods at Connor in acknowledgment and then levels a look at Faith when she speaks.

"They will be fine when I'm done, which I almost am. Have some more tequila and bear with it." He's not going anywhere until he's finished. Glancing back at Wes, Godric takes a moment to really look at this man who has apparently left Faith with some bitter feelings. He doesn't know what a Watcher is, but it's clear that despite whatever history these two have between them, Wes is genuinely concerned.

"She'll be fine."

Wesley stiffens slightly at Faith's qualification of his status. It would seem that she's still feeling somewhat acrimonious with him.

"Thank you, Faith, it's always such a pleasure to be reminded of how I was sacked from the Council over mishandling the whole affair."

It's on the tip of his tongue to bring up her subsequent lengthy torture of him, but something in her whole demeanor causes him to bite back the words and attempt to let the matter rest for the meantime.

He meets Godric's gaze and nods again.

"I'm glad to hear it. Despite the fact that she is no longer my charge, I still feel some responsibility for her welfare.

I believe that we exchanged messages over the tablet recently. You were asking if I spoke Sumerian. It's good to finally meet you in person, Godric."

"Wasn't talking about you getting your ass fired, Wes." She's talking about turning her over to the Council, about never giving a fuck, about things that he hasn't even done yet from his perspective. Unfair, sure, but that's just how the bitter cookie crumbles. "And can you two quit talking about me like I'm not here? Jesus, it was just the Bo-- just Wilkins. I'm fine."

The long, long swallow she takes of tequila (and the way she's letting Godric keep touching her, even with Wes there to watch) belies that, though. She's not fine, and it's obvious.

Godric nods at Wes. "Yes, I remember. The feeling is mutual."

Despite Wes's obviously strained relationship with Faith, it really is good to meet him. It isn't every day Godric runs into someone with even an academic interest in some of the things Godric saw and experienced first-hand, much less one who knows the old languages that slip off Godric's tongue more easily than English.

"It's impossible to pretend like you're not here, Faith, I promise," he responds to her complaint with a teasing smile. Finishing with her bandages, he sits on the couch next to her.

"If you're going to attempt to drink that whole bottle, you should have something to eat." He's not going to stop her from getting drunk, but he will stop her from throwing up if he can.

Wesley's not about to take a seat. He's well aware of how unwelcome he is as far as Faith is concerned. Godric seems attentive and to have the matter well in hand. Wesley can't help but feel a pang of envy at how the man seems to be so at ease around her. It's clear that on some level she respects him at least. Will listen to him.

It's not all that different to how she is around Angel, actually.

"You saw Mayor Wilkins?"

And everything falls into place, he's aware of how that might have severely shaken the normally fearless slayer.

"You had a significant relationship with him. That had to have been a shock to see him again, and I presume he appeared to you as a grotesque corpse-like version of himself? Others have been experiencing this phenomenon, myself included."

It was his attempt to reassure her that her reaction was perfectly normal and that she was not alone in being unnerved by the visitations.

"You're a real riot, you know that? And whatever, I'm not hungry." Faith has experimented carefully with how to get a Slayer so drunk it makes a dent in anything. Eating's not the way to do it. "I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

Corpse-like. Dead. Never gonna get to say goodbye, to close up the open wounds he left inside. Her hand closes tight enough around the bottle there's an audible crack, and she hisses as it shatters, glass in her hand now, red coating the broken pieces. "Really not helping me out here, Wes. I know what I saw, the blow by blow's just icing."

Godric is about to tell Faith that fine, she can drink all she wants, but if she throws up, he's leaving her to fall in it, when Wes opens his big mouth and the situation goes from manageable to rapidly deteriorating. He can feel Faith tensing as Wes speaks, and the next thing he knows, the neck of the bottle is gone, the remainder of it falling toward Faith's injured feet. Godric lunges forward in the blink of an eye, speed so clearly inhuman it can't be missed, catching what's left of the bottle and setting it on the table.

The look he shoots Wes is cold and clearly disapproving.

"Why don't you go find a broom?" It's not really a request. It's more like a very serious suggestion as to what Wes should do before he really puts his foot in it. Or before Godric does it for him. Not winning brownie points here, Wes.

Picking up the cloth and bandages, Godric takes Faith's hand and begins patching her up for the second time that hour.

Clearly, the most appropriate time for Faith to receive yet another concerned male visitor is now. Particularly when there's recently spilled blood around, and the visitor in question happens to be a vampire.

There's a knocking at the door. "Faith? It's Eric."

"I told you I didn't need a freaking babysitter, Fang." Faith's tension is rapidly becoming more obvious, her arm stiffening in Godric's hands. There are too many freaking people in her space, and one of them is Wesley. "Slayer on tap's run out, come back later."

Godric feels her tension, and can guess the source.

"Eric, wait a moment," he calls out calmly. Turning back to Faith, he leans in and whispers so that only she can hear.

"Invite him in. He won't fuss over you if I'm already fussing," and he is, "and we can have him escort your ex-watcher out the door if he says anything else abysmally stupid." Or if he fails to go get that broom.

In the end, it's the image of Eric kicking Wesley's ass out the door that makes up Faith's mind. (It's been a rough day, and she wants to see shit like that go down on good days.)

"Fine, whatever. Come on in, Fang." She doesn't bother raising her voice much, because Eric can hear her just fine and there's a part of her that wants to shove this in Wes' face as hard as she can.