75; action/dictated

[gottaknockhard]

[Sitting on the castle steps, with a pile of discarded cigarettes at his feet, Spike idly watches anyone who happens to slip out of its doors. His shoulder still causes him pain, slumped and neglected aside from a patch job that he did himself, so he smokes with the opposite hand.

It's a lazy way of looking for someone.

But it's still more effort than simply opening the journal, which probably demonstrates that the whole 'looking for someone' thing is a rouse. The truth is, he forced himself to stop looking the moment it occurred to him that he was losing his mind over something he didn't understand. If he can't apologize, he can at least quit obsessing over it.]

I thought he was onto something. [He pauses, reflecting over himself.] If it really is a cycle, maybe I'll catch it the next time around.

[-- Just when he'd decided not to, he was dictating vaguely into the journal, like a bad habit he couldn't quit. He starts to set up filters, which is most likely the decent thing to do after his behavior, and instead sets the open journal down beside him simply because it's too awkward to juggle everything one-handed. The best he can manage is an invitation.]

Comments

[mal_addict]

...Well, that was nicely obscure. Care to expand on that at all?

[Worried about him? A touch. Maybe]

[gottaknockhard]

[At least she didn't see him earlier. Since he's had time to come back to reality, he realizes that there's a possibility that what he saw when he had the ring wasn't what he thought it was. -- And if he turned out to be right, that doesn't leave him in any better shape now that it's gone.]

Something my old partner used to say, about life coming in cycles. [Except now he can't remember exactly how it went.] Supposedly everything that starts has an end to it. But then it just starts back up again.

[mal_addict]

Starts back up? So it just repeats everything over and over?

[gottaknockhard]

Something like that. Although he may have meant it to be more abstract.

[mal_addict]

I see. So this abstract thinking is normal in your world? You seem to do a lot of it yourself.

[gottaknockhard]

[Mal, always putting it politely. He should have written it down before he tried apologizing in the journals. If that's really what he meant to do. -- Anyway, she makes it easy for him to carry on like he usually does.]

It could just be a side effect from floating around in space. We had a lot of down time.

[mal_addict]

[Mal is the politest forever]

I see. From my memories of space thanks to Paradisa's tampering, I can understand how that might have a negative impact on your brain.

action;

[bronwe]

[ Just as well. Frodo wouldn't respond to any filters written to him anyway, least of all those from Spike, and not out of any resentment. He stops dead in his tracks, standing a few steps behind the man with a duffel bag tied about his shoulders covered by the grey elven cloak and a gnarled walking stick. He keeps as quiet as he can as if he believes that Spike might be able to sense just by him hovering there. Perhaps he can.

In any case, he adjusts his bag to make sure he can make a run for it if it comes to that, then clears his throat to catch the man's attention. ]

action;

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike doesn't turn, but maybe there's something to that sort of sixth sense of his. Or he's grown accustomed to the sound of bare feat on the castle floor. Either way, he knows he's there before he even makes himself known.

Isn't it funny? When you stop looking, that's when you usually find things.]

You didn't think about leaving through a window?

action;

[bronwe]

[ He didn't think to put on the Ring and tiptoe past Spike either, which would be less dangerous, arguably. For a moment he wonders if what they say of the Dead Zone is true, that all powers would be nullified, so would he no longer hear its whispers again? He wonders if he would miss it too much and retrace his steps anyway.

Frodo lets out an audible sigh, taking a few steps closer but stopping again before the man is within an arm's reach. ]

I don't think my mind can suffer one more thought these days.

action;

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike understands that more than anything they've shared before. He wound up having more things in common with a hobbit than he would have imagined, and his expression is sympathetic rather than challenging when he finally looks behind him. -- Of course, he sort of anticipated the packing gear. Honestly, Spike wouldn't have stayed around after the past couple of weeks either.

This would be another prime opportunity to apologize, which he's working towards. Now while he has the chance.]

I can't really blame you for that.

action;

[bronwe]

[ It feels like he has been traveling forever these days. Home is a memory as distant and vague as a mere fancy. Even the hobbit-sized room he has kept for himself here felt more like a waiting room. Frodo has been bracing for the moment the castle decides to send him back to his journey, never allowing himself to feel at all rested.

Now this brings a strange sense of relief. Finally. He still tweaks a small smile at him but makes no move to walk any closer. ]

You will let me leave?

action;

[gottaknockhard]

[There's a shake of his head, which should imply that he's stopped being startlingly obsessive over something he never knew existed. Should, but he can't pretend to be over it when he's been thinking about it through at least half of the cigarettes at his feet.]

I won't even follow you.

Voice

[hasmommyissues]

Problems my dear Mr Spike?

[Enough with the cryptic monologues...that's his thing!.]

Voice

[gottaknockhard]

[He never said he was good at this stuff. And after considering his options, he settles on something else.]

My dog ran away.

Voice

[hasmommyissues]

My how sad for you.

Maybe you can get another?

Voice

[gottaknockhard]

That might seem hypocritical of me.

Voice

[hasmommyissues]

Oh Mr Spike...we are all hypocrites deep down.

Voice

[gottaknockhard]

[Some not so deep. He exhales.]

I appreciate the sympathy.

action;

[wishmadeinfire]

<sub>[ It was hard to miss Spike sitting on the Castle steps with his pile of cigarettes. Ashura had never really liked them, but if that was Spike's vice he was not one to complain. It seemed to bring him some sort of comfort, besides.

He paused near the other, for a moment considering igniting the pile of discarded butts, but resisting for now. ]</sub>

Catch what, Spike?

action;

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike doesn't move, content to stare at whatever spot he's focused on while he works on adding to his pile.]

Something I'm better off leaving alone.

Re: action;

[wishmadeinfire]

_{[ Ashura comes and takes a seat beside him, cloth and jewels rustling. ]}

It must be something of great concern to you all the same.

_{[ He glances meaningfully at the cigarette pile at Spike's feet. ]}

[gottaknockhard]

[Fortunately, Spike looks better than he did, although there's a reason he refrains from turning towards him.]

It was. [He tries an easy grin, but only gets about halfway there. That effort is given up pretty quickly, and he flicks another cigarette butt into the collection.] You must have brought me good luck.

[wishmadeinfire]

Better than bringing bad.

_{[ He debated for a long moment, but in his time here, he had come to find touch comforting. Galadriel was very good at that, comforting with just a touch.}

Trying to take a token from her, he reached out, laying his on one of Spike's. ]

Perhaps I shall have good luck enough to get you to come inside and find yourself something a bit more comfortable to sit on than a stone step.

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike looks in his eye for the first time when he feels a hand on his. It's funny, sitting out in the open like this, he wasn't expecting sympathy -- but it sure looks like he was fishing for some. Just shows what kind of man he is.

He's quiet for an almost uncomfortable span of silence, then nods, although he makes no move to stand.]

I may have lost track of the time.