Illyria

[locked to Wesley]

2005-04-06T09:49:44Z

In the age of her reign, Illyria could have crossed the continent with a single stride. Now the distance, paltry as it still seemed to her, was causing an unacceptable degree of vexation.

She wished to leave. Of course this meant at once.

The enmity she felt towards this place, this city and this building, which had seemed somehow inescapable just a handful of days earlier, had appeared to wane with time to mere indifference. But since Wesley had extended his invitation, ill-advised as it may have been, her malice had returned in spades. These smug and always looming faces, these hateful walls. Her hands itched to crush them. To leave them leveled in her wake.

One last disgrace, one final act of undeserved supplication... it seemed more than she could bear.

"I require your least primitive means of transportation."

The eyes across from her widened dumbly. She had not spoken aloud in months.

"I choose to go. You will accommodate me."

There was no instant, clumsy rush to comply. Barely a flicker of acknowledgment.

"Now."

The office was in shards before an accord was reached. This was what she had been reduced to -- impatient hysterics befitting a human child. It sickened her, but she could not stop.

Her tantrum was rewarded with safe passage to Massachusetts, including a reluctant escort. He was easily silenced, and she relieved him of his PSP somewhere over Nebraska. Once she was ushered into the Boston branch of Wolfram & Hart, she found Wesley's office without aid.

She sat at his desk, playing Metal Gear Acid, and waited.

If you could do one irresponsible or even bad thing with no consequences, what would it be and why?

2005-04-04T03:35:45Z

Morality is a mortal construct, and I fear no retribution in this or any world. I do as I please.

Illyria does not understand restraint. How useless and how common, to guard one's ambitions, lusts and anxieties so dearly; the infinite energy that is wasted and could be better spent fulfilling the same diligently concealed desires. Such nonsensical loops weary her, yet remain too thick on this wretched ground to ignore.

Wesley could have explained it to her. She might have been satisfied if he, at his most inebriated and misanthropic, had simply shared her scorn. But Wesley is gone, and even without the distance to consider, Illyria suspects he is too changed now to be her counselor or her commisserator. He's beyond her now, and happy there, and however she may founder in this life alone, she will not go to him again.

Illyria doesn't understand restraint, not yet, but even in her solitary frustration, she is still learning from her guide.

What do you want for your birthday?

2004-12-10T12:10:13Z

I would not entertain such sentimentality, even if it were possible. The paltry increments of human time could not begin to measure my age. None devised could. I am age. One instant of my existence is no less worthy of observance than that which follows.

In a handful of weeks one year will have passed since I was delivered to this shell. In your narrow estimation, this may approximate a human birth. I feel no singular compulsion to celebrate.

From those who feel differently, and wish to make some offering, I would have Crash Team Racing.

What would your dream occupation be?

2004-07-11T04:31:14Z

I occupy this body. It is hardly ideal. This form, this tiny, frail-boned carcass, became mine on the puerile whim of a lustful child. Yet, even if the choice had been rightfully afforded me, no human frame could have provided worthier refuge. Debating the relative merits of so many fleas is a pointless venture, even by mortal standards.

If you refer to employment, the query loses even the semblance of significance. Humans now rise and sweat and breathe solely for gain, scraping to serve ignoble masters, dancing endlessly for coins in this massive, absurd circus. When my kingdom was young, the plebeian herd aspired toward neither wealth nor glory. There could be no glory but my own. My love, my mercy, my notice, none of these were sought. I was worshipped wholly, without the promise or possibility of requital.

I was everywhere, my reach limitless, and beings which lacked legs evolved only so they might kneel for me. And now even such contemptible creatures as the wolf and ram and hart believe they can entice me to bend to their trifling, short-sighted wills.

I require nothing offered by this world; I desire less. And I do not dream.