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butterflyTitle: The Thing With Feathers
Spoilers: Up to Shells
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Wes/Fred; Wes/Illyria
Summary: Illyria abides and Wesley does his best to do the same.
Yesterday, Illyria had helped him find a demon -- Mm'Kari Nacturm, to be precise. Fascinating creatures, as it turned out. Mm'Kari communicated solely by a means of clicks and grunts that were far below human hearing. Even Angel had only been able to hear the uppermost part of the demon's register. Illyria had been incredibly helpful in identifying the demon, at least by its own standards, and had even told him a little of what that demon had been in its time. There had just been the one, back when Illyria had ruled -- interestingly, all the demons that Illyria mentioned were unique. The ability to reproduce seemed to have come with the advent of the animal. Lesser demons, the ones that were able to survive the coming of humans, of reasoning mammals, had seen the advantage of numbers and developed the ability accordingly. Illyria wasn't terribly informed about that particular biological change, as it had already been betrayed by that time, but he was able to supplement its limited knowledge with what he could glean from the forgotten texts.
So Illyria had helped him to find the demon, and for a moment, when his eyes met with Illyria's over a book, he'd felt a connection. Brief, yet compelling. For a moment, he'd felt something only associated with researching alongside Fred -- a tingle and a glow from the knowledge of shared intellect and interest. Then Illyria hadn't blinked, and he had. When his eyes had closed, he'd felt a traitorious twinge in his chest, but when they'd opened again to meet frozen, dead eyes, both the connection and the ache inside him vanished into the numbness that he lived with now.
Illyria had cocked its head, the movement reminding him rather uncomfortably of the preying mantis, and had inquired after his well-being. It hadn't seemed satisfied with his standard answer but didn't ask again, instead changing the subject back to demon lore. Illyria was getting rather too good at discerning human emotion. It had spent much of their early time together questioning him on the pecularities of the human species but soon after that had seemed to concentrate on learning by observation.
When he'd inquired as to the change, Illyria had told him that it learned far more from how he acted than from what he said. That his actions often contradicted his words, and that every other human that it had watched appeared much the same. "A race of tricksters," it had said, and he is still uncertain whether the words had been meant with contempt or with an odd sort of admiration.
Oddly, Illyria seemed to be attached to him. Odd, because it certainly hadn't cared about Knox, and because it had repeatedly expressed puzzlement that his grief for a single life was not yet over. It had grieved, but for the loss of an army and a kingdom and an avatar. For the loss of a part of itself, he found, after speaking with it more closely. Illyria's Army of Doom had not been a true army, but had been a separate part of itself. It was, Illyria had explained, more like finding oneself limbless than to find oneself without a lover. Without its army, Illyria had been weak, and worse, it had not even known of the loss until being confronted with the ashes of itself. It should have been able to sense the death of a part of itself, it had told him, and he'd found himself with the urge to reach out toward Illyria, to somehow comfort it.
He hadn't, of course.
Yet Illyria continued to reach out to him, in its own cold way. And every so often, he would glance up and something in Illyria would whisper of Fred. It only lasted a moment each time but it was happening more and more frequently as the days passed. It knew things that a creature of its sort never would have learned -- knowledge that had to have come from the pieces of Fred that tumbled about inside Illyria.
Knowledge persisted and, he was certain, so did emotion. Illyria was, on occasion, gentle with him. Patient and watchful in a way that it simply didn't act around anyone else. To believe that love could survive death of soul was more than a touch insane, so Wesley found himself quite willing to entertain the notion.
After all, one could not survive without hope.
~fade to black~
Spoilers: Up to Shells
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Wes/Fred; Wes/Illyria
Summary: Illyria abides and Wesley does his best to do the same.
Yesterday, Illyria had helped him find a demon -- Mm'Kari Nacturm, to be precise. Fascinating creatures, as it turned out. Mm'Kari communicated solely by a means of clicks and grunts that were far below human hearing. Even Angel had only been able to hear the uppermost part of the demon's register. Illyria had been incredibly helpful in identifying the demon, at least by its own standards, and had even told him a little of what that demon had been in its time. There had just been the one, back when Illyria had ruled -- interestingly, all the demons that Illyria mentioned were unique. The ability to reproduce seemed to have come with the advent of the animal. Lesser demons, the ones that were able to survive the coming of humans, of reasoning mammals, had seen the advantage of numbers and developed the ability accordingly. Illyria wasn't terribly informed about that particular biological change, as it had already been betrayed by that time, but he was able to supplement its limited knowledge with what he could glean from the forgotten texts.
So Illyria had helped him to find the demon, and for a moment, when his eyes met with Illyria's over a book, he'd felt a connection. Brief, yet compelling. For a moment, he'd felt something only associated with researching alongside Fred -- a tingle and a glow from the knowledge of shared intellect and interest. Then Illyria hadn't blinked, and he had. When his eyes had closed, he'd felt a traitorious twinge in his chest, but when they'd opened again to meet frozen, dead eyes, both the connection and the ache inside him vanished into the numbness that he lived with now.
Illyria had cocked its head, the movement reminding him rather uncomfortably of the preying mantis, and had inquired after his well-being. It hadn't seemed satisfied with his standard answer but didn't ask again, instead changing the subject back to demon lore. Illyria was getting rather too good at discerning human emotion. It had spent much of their early time together questioning him on the pecularities of the human species but soon after that had seemed to concentrate on learning by observation.
When he'd inquired as to the change, Illyria had told him that it learned far more from how he acted than from what he said. That his actions often contradicted his words, and that every other human that it had watched appeared much the same. "A race of tricksters," it had said, and he is still uncertain whether the words had been meant with contempt or with an odd sort of admiration.
Oddly, Illyria seemed to be attached to him. Odd, because it certainly hadn't cared about Knox, and because it had repeatedly expressed puzzlement that his grief for a single life was not yet over. It had grieved, but for the loss of an army and a kingdom and an avatar. For the loss of a part of itself, he found, after speaking with it more closely. Illyria's Army of Doom had not been a true army, but had been a separate part of itself. It was, Illyria had explained, more like finding oneself limbless than to find oneself without a lover. Without its army, Illyria had been weak, and worse, it had not even known of the loss until being confronted with the ashes of itself. It should have been able to sense the death of a part of itself, it had told him, and he'd found himself with the urge to reach out toward Illyria, to somehow comfort it.
He hadn't, of course.
Yet Illyria continued to reach out to him, in its own cold way. And every so often, he would glance up and something in Illyria would whisper of Fred. It only lasted a moment each time but it was happening more and more frequently as the days passed. It knew things that a creature of its sort never would have learned -- knowledge that had to have come from the pieces of Fred that tumbled about inside Illyria.
Knowledge persisted and, he was certain, so did emotion. Illyria was, on occasion, gentle with him. Patient and watchful in a way that it simply didn't act around anyone else. To believe that love could survive death of soul was more than a touch insane, so Wesley found himself quite willing to entertain the notion.
After all, one could not survive without hope.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-26 10:45 pm (UTC)Oooh. Chilling.
I love the details about lesser demons and unique demons. And Illyria's explaination of the comparison to losing a limb.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 01:32 am (UTC)like a preying mantis
This comparison lingered with me, and it's a little hard to decide why exactly. The preying mantis eats its mate, yes? Tears off its head and swallows its innards even while they copulate? In a way, I suppose you could say Illyria did something similar to Fred, but I doubt Wesley would be comparing Illyria and Fred to lovers. Himself and Illyria, perhaps, because he looks at Illyria and sees ao much of Fred. Fred is a Shell now, hollow inside, and Wesley seems to feel the same way, hollow and numb... Illyria did that to him, and still he holds on to her, to Fred, because their lovers dance was never completed...
But it's two, and I babble when I should be going to sleep.
I really like the Wesley/Illyria dynamic, and I really like what you've done with it. Finding all the glints and shadows.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 10:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 10:52 pm (UTC)Oooh. Chilling.
Very. Illyria is creepy as hell.
I love the details about lesser demons and unique demons. And Illyria's explaination of the comparison to losing a limb.
I found Illyria's continued inability to understand Wes' grief at the end of Shells, despite its own huge loss, to be fascinating. This reason works for me, though I also think that it's plausible that it's simply a matter of scale -- Illyria is stunned that Wesley can compare the loss of one soul to the loss of an entire way of life.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 10:58 pm (UTC)This was pretty, on so many levels. I liked all the detail you put in - or maybe even didn't put in - you get the feeling there's all these interesting things that are in the 'world' of this story, even if we're only seeing a few of them through Wesley.
One of my favorite things about fanfic is the ability to work with the assumption of a world. I can only hope that when I get around to writing original fic that I'll be able to create a world and then play it in the exact same way, assuming its existence.
This comparison lingered with me, and it's a little hard to decide why exactly. The preying mantis eats its mate, yes? Tears off its head and swallows its innards even while they copulate? In a way, I suppose you could say Illyria did something similar to Fred, but I doubt Wesley would be comparing Illyria and Fred to lovers. Himself and Illyria, perhaps, because he looks at Illyria and sees ao much of Fred. Fred is a Shell now, hollow inside, and Wesley seems to feel the same way, hollow and numb... Illyria did that to him, and still he holds on to her, to Fred, because their lovers dance was never completed...
Which is part of why Wesley was so completely broken. He'd longed for so long, he'd actually gotten the girl of his dreams, and it was ripped away before he could have a chance to settle into it and experience the joy. The girl of his dreams loved him back and he didn't get a chance to truly understand and feel that until it was too late.
I really like the Wesley/Illyria dynamic, and I really like what you've done with it. Finding all the glints and shadows.
I'm fascinated by the possibilities of Wesley and Illyria. The chemistry between the characters is amazing -- Illyria does go to him, and actually interacts with him instead of blowing through him. Even in the beginning of the episode, Illyria listened to Wesley and acted upon what he said (though not in a way he intended).
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 10:59 pm (UTC)Thank you! So glad that you found the fic interesting.
And yeah, I totally can't think of Illyria as gendered... which is probably what led to the mention of 'unique' demons. Demons that are one of a kind and neither male nor female, because neither existed when they sprang into creation.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 11:22 pm (UTC)I just started watching Angel this season, and I have yet to see S6 or S7 of Buffy, as I never watched the show while it was on the air. I've loved reading your detailed thoughts about these shows.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-27 11:32 pm (UTC)Chilling and beautiful, and sympathetic toward Illyria in a way that I find very appropriate and...full of possibility.
I find Illyria very sympathetic -- not at all immoral, but starting out amoral. And Illyria has expressed a willingness to adapt, which is always a good sign. It lacks the 'my way or the highway' attitude of Jasmine (from last year's Angel).
I've thought of Illyria's movements as bird-like, a kestrel or osprey or some other compact, precise little killer, but the praying mantis is very apt and brings some nice imagery with it.
It's the shell aspect that first brought insects to mind -- a hard shell covering 'function systems' screams exoskeleton to me.
I like the instances of Illyria learning and adapting but keeping its own counsel--abiding. It is perhaps using the tiny remnants of Fred with purpose and for specific effect--or maybe they just slip out. Or maybe Wesley just imagines them.
Right. I love that it could be any of those things. Because Wes? Has pretty much lost all the apples off his tree.
I just started watching Angel this season, and I have yet to see S6 or S7 of Buffy, as I never watched the show while it was on the air. I've loved reading your detailed thoughts about these shows.
That's great to hear. I write them partly because I love to see myself think, but I do hope to spark discussion and to make someone think of something in a new way (that someone is often myself).