taxonomites | xxvii [ location: sunnydale playground ] / [ visual ].

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xxvii [ location: sunnydale playground ] / [ visual ].

Taxon was a very capricious place, unpredictable and unbalanced like a scale that kept tipping back and forth without ever finding it's center. All this nonstop disequilibrium was beginning to wear thin on the vampire. Angel was restless, tired and frustrated all at the same time, and while that was pretty much the norm for him, being here and not having any control over anything, whether it be comings and goings or glitches or the world almost ending. None of that, did they have a say in. Regardless of the fact that there were certain elements of life here in Taxon that made it not quite the horrible experience some made it out to be, not being able to affect anything made being here near unbearable at times.

Angel liked being in control and hated being manipulated and being told what to do, but most of all he hated being unable to rebel against the unique sort of oppression the aliens placed on their captives. Defiance was at the very core of his person, something that was a key part of him long before he became a vampire; something his demon nature capitalized upon and thrived on. Only one person had been able to get away with pushing his buttons, giving him orders and revoking his right to take a stand - and that woman was long dead, twice over and more importantly, not these goddamn aliens.

It was only natural for him to seek out a constant for balance when the that which wasn't began to grate on him more so than before. (Classic bottler. Eating, eating, eating away until that cap came unscrewed and that which was put aside came boiling to the surface.) Someone whose presence he'd always found soothing, who was the person he'd known longest in the world now that said woman - Darla - was gone.

He went to the playground first and would try the forest next if she wasn't there.

"Drusilla?"

[ ooc | backdated to before spike's glitch. sorry i didn't get this up sooner, emma! today was a busier than i anticipated. ♥ ]

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Drusilla?

[ angel pauses, his expression - which goes unseen, thanks to the voice feature - twisting into confusion before he realizes that it's the tablet and not her in person. no scent, no sound - but that infuriating device the aliens equipped them with that just loves to divulge that which is not open for sharing. he swears quietly at it, under his breath. ]

I'm...looking for her.

Well obviously. Any sane reason why you are?

Is there something wrong with just wanting to look in on my childe?

undoing.livejournal.com - 2010-09-18 08:35 (UTC) - Expand

These days - these soft light days and long black nights - Drusilla spent most of her time in the forest. She could lose herself in those leaves and drown herself in the gentle trickle of the streams. The hollow trees were filled with secrets. Even the flowers sang to her.

Sometimes, however, she longed for the familiarity of the playground. She remembered, absently, the way that the Slayer had found her in the shadows, crying as she attempted to claw the wires straight out of her head. And the way she'd hunted there, once upon a time. Before the Angel Beast had decided to interrupt.

Oh.

She wasn't hunting tonight. What did he want?

Kicking her feet and feeling her bare toes skimming the soft grass, Drusilla let the swing carry her towards him. Then back again. Then forwards. She felt like a pendulum. Or a magnet. Because no matter how many times she tried to pull away, she came swinging back to him.

"Sometimes I think I'll let go and fly all the way to the stars."

The creaking of the swings and that familiar pull at the back of his mind that flared in response to the bond of blood, along with her scent, signaled him to her presence before she spoke to him. He went over that way and leaned against part of the metal frame of the swing set, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her swing back and forth, back and forth.

He tilted his head up towards the sky, then looked back to her, the beginnings of a fond sort of smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Don't think you can reach any stars here, Dru."

Oh, that smile made her heart sing. How had she survived the days when he hadn't been able to look at her?

"I miss them so," she remarked, sighing theatrically before, finally, coming to a halt. "I'll catch them one day."

Flying free and soaring up to the moon on wings of coal black feathers. Yes. She could see it in her mind's eyes.

"I don't doubt that you will," he said, pushing away from the support beams to stand in front of her swing. He held a hand out to her. "The stars here don't sing like the ones back home, do they?"

The stars here were fake ones, twinkling little illusions painted on to the ceiling of the massive cavern they were in by whatever sort of technology the hamsters had at their disposal. Of course they didn't.

After a brief pause - was it a trick, was it safe, was it real? - Drusilla took Angel's hand and slipped off the swing. It was as cool as hers. And gentle, too. She'd almost forgotten that. She'd forgotten that he could be gentle.

"No," she said, with a glance up at the sky. "They're not worth talking to." She stopped, giving Angel a smile that was just for him. "Not like you."

It wasn't a trick. Angel hadn't come out here looking to put her back in Nina's cage or check up on her to make sure sh was behaving herself - nothing like that. Just pure, simple company was all he wanted; the companionship of a familiar presence for a while.

"I'm glad to hear you still consider me worthy of conversation."

"You know you are," she said, swaying to the music of the city. The rhythm changed every day, but it was always interesting. Always worth dancing to. (It was a shame, really, that nobody else listened to it.)

And even when they'd been enemies, the Angel Beast had been worth taking to.

"Why were you looking for me?"

She was allowed to ask now, because she knew that she didn't need to worry. If he'd wanted to hurt her - the wrong sort of hurt - then he would have started straightaway. He wouldn't have given himself time to feel guilty.

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