paradisa | 83; action/dictated

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83; action/dictated

( Queen Anne )

[Spike hasn't heard from her since this started, which could mean she went the way Brock did in the middle of the night. He's practically hoping for that when he gets wind of the other way that people have gone missing.

With a calm voice, he dictates to the journal. He's already on his way to her room, but at least he's giving her a warning for once.]

This may be a good time to find a quiet place in town for a few days. I'll be by in a little while. [As if he isn't going to insist on going with her, at least until he's set her up somewhere with a more predictable lock. She can be mad at him later.]

---

[The mirrors that overtook the halls really add a nice touch to the disorienting atmosphere. He closes the door to his room after a mildly successful rounding of supplies, and uses the journal to avoid looking at the walls.

It only occurs to him then that he's forgetting something. Although as frequently as the dog has to take care of himself, he wouldn't be surprised if Ein wasn't already five steps ahead of him. He sounds tired, rather than panicked, but you can't account for sleep around here.]

To top it off, the dog got out. Talk about your bad luck.

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[ Indeed as soon as the quality of 'life' around had become even murkier, in the way that one naturally questioned their sanity by the hour, Anne had gone to great lengths to hide away from the world. The startling run-ins with those who are no longer well do little to curb her fears, as memories of another time lost in insanity still haunt her.

When leaving her chambers, she visits only the kitchen and the clinic, and is soon to return, not stopping for any even if they're on her floor. She doesn't seek the comfort of company in times like these, not when all it can do is remind her of her very worst.

Spike might be the last person she wishes to see now, but she doesn't tell him to stay away, and she doesn't respond. Instead she just opens her door, as what good are locks in the face of a supernatural enemy? For once she has no wine in her, too aware of how level her head must remain in these instances.

That doesn't halt her pacing, a rambling tangent occasionally spilling forth in the lunacy of events, and her place in them, and not particularly directed at Spike. She's talking well before he enters. ]

[Even if she is just down the hall, he walks slowly to get to her door. Either because he's trying to give her time to get herself together, or because he's dreading what he might find.

When he gets close, he sees her name still on the door and hears the murmuring inside, and he lets out a breath. Fortunately, there's a surplus of mirrors next to it where he can check to see that he doesn't seem too relieved. Nobody should be so callous to be glad that someone is stuck in a murderous castle when they've already had their fair share.

Taking the open door as an invitation, he enters, and only glances her way for a moment before urging her focus. Spike may not be her first choice, but he knows how to handle her better than anyone still around. Experience should count for something.]

Do you have anything you want to pack?

[ She stops talking immediately, turning back around to stare hard at him, as if needing to make sure it really is him and not anything, or anyone else. And then, needing to be overly sure, she stalks forward at surprising speed and reaches up to roughly pinch his earlobe.

Yes, he's real then. Well then he deserved it for not greeting her properly, even in crisis. ]

What makes you think I am going anywhere? That anywhere is safe?

[ Even her own chambers haven't been safe, so she should wish to leave. They've altered enough to hugely discomfort her. All mirrors, though, have been broken by now, and broken again when they repair. Even her vanity has been forsaken in her fury for the castle.

But the city's no better, she thinks. She has seen trauma and magic there just as much as here. ]

Ow. [He frowns deeply, covering his ear when she lets go. So as to seem more mature though, he stifles his reflex of getting defensive and keeps his stern expression fixed on her.]

It's not safe, but it's safer. [At least, that's what his initial sweep implied. The mirrors don't extend all the way into town. With all the recent events, he didn't think it'd be hard to convince her. Even with her proximity to him, he can't quite tell how far separated she is from reasoning. Spike wouldn't blame her, but it'll be inconvenient if he has to carry her out.]

If things keep going the way they are, staying isn't an option. So what do you want to take?

[ Her throat clenches at his argument, but there are few sane counters. When did she last worry for sanity, though? ]

I cannot leave her.

[He takes in a deep breath, preparing for what he hopes not to guess.]

Leave who?

Elizabeth!

[ Snapped like he's the most idiotic being to ever speak. But that quickly dissolves again in her hushed panic, as she turns to look towards her bedchamber, to the wardrobes where her daughters belongings and paintings are lovingly kept. ]

Everything left of her is here. Anything left of me is here.

[To be fair, that had been his guess. He might be fighting a losing battle here, but he's got some fight left in him. At least until he's sure.]

Bring it. We can move it back later.

[ Again she turns on him like a viper. ]

What manner of fool are you? We have no retinue to carry such belongings, nor a proper enough place to keep it. Where do you expect I am to go?

[ Reaching out, she shoves roughly at his chest. ]

It is my pleasure that you go! Now. I will not have you think to drag me about like a child and then abandon me elsewhere I have not even my own comforts.

Edited 2014-08-30 22:42 (UTC)

[For a second, he has the urge to grab her arm and snap her out of it. He doesn't, only taking one step back when she shoves him. It's not like he expecting her to trust him when he's just as liable to run off like she said. Because she's not the only one left he's indebted to.

She's always been a little too smart for a guy like him. Reasoning with someone who knows you too well is always harder than it should be.]

They'll still be there when you get back. The castle wants you here. [He's always hated talking about the castle like it's a person they know, which is why he hates to continue.] It didn't send me.

[Then, before she can hit him for not listening:] What about the church? The doors there should be thick enough.

[ Despite she knows he will leave eventually, she knows he won't actually leave when she's telling him to. At least not with this danger about. She trusts him with obtuse expectations. ]

If it wants me, it will have me. No matter what door you put before me, it will always lead back to the castle should it desire me. You know this.

[ With a scoff, she waves at him and abruptly sits on her throne. ]

That church is no better than a Roman temple. Beautiful but otherwise useless and empty.

[This isn't the first time they've faced this kind of thing. Demons and whatever else is trying to drive them crazy, almost to the point where it's become as routine as the way this always plays out with him and Anne. Dire circumstances aside, sometimes it seems like she disagrees with him just for the sake of it. Probably not fair to say, but he wonders.

When she takes a seat rather than change her mind after hearing his brilliant plan, he sighs.]

Some people might call you stubborn, you know. [He walks to the door, but doesn't reach for the handle. Rather, he sits down in front of it as a human blockade. A lazy one, who has nothing better to do now but to take up her space and lay out the ammo he picked up on the way over. If they're staying, odds are he's going to need it.]

[ She watches him quietly at first, unsure if he had actually been leaving for once. Though she says nothing about the matter, Anne keeps Kalinda's old pistol beneath her skirts, and the rifle is beneath her bed. Not that these things have helped her often before, save for perhaps against 'dinosaurs'.

Finally, ]

It could be anyone. The castle could have anyone through that door. And what could you do?

[If he thinks back hard enough, he can remember when Anne used to be confident in his abilities. Back when he didn't have to explain everything; not that he has entirely broken that habit.]

That all depends on who it is, right? [Ego aside, he's had varying success with demons. Some go down when you shoot them, most don't. All this time in the castle, and he still hasn't learned how to tell the difference.] There's always the chance they won't come through the door.

They could come through the windows. Through the walls.

[ She's no less confident in Spike's abilities than anyone else's. She just no longer sees fit to find anyone strong enough to protect against the castle. She's already seen everyone succumb to it at one time or another. ]

It may be a loved one, with love no longer in their heart.

[He doesn't look up at her, instead busying himself with checking the clip in his gun as if he hadn't already counted the bullets.]

Then I'm lucky I don't have any of those.

[ Anne could count the names left on one hand. It wouldn't even take all of her fingers.

She has reached a point where she's grateful for this. Less to mourn. ]

That leaves me ever the unlucky, with you to slay my beloveds.

[That gets him to glance up. Maybe she thinks he would, if it came to that. Sarcasm on her is sometimes lost in translation.]

Come to think of it, it is your room they'd be coming to.

[ She wonders what she would prefer, if it came to the choice. It isn't the same answer as one year ago. Or five years ago. ]

Don't you have a true maiden to protect? I am not the only one carrying your promises.

I found you first.

[Sometimes he can be just a stubborn. Hopefully that never gets out.]

That is no flattery to a queen.

[Days when he wishes he hadn't been magically forced to give up smoking.]

I know. You have a lot to up with.

I always have.

[ Perhaps the most in regards to sexism than idiocy, but there was always still a plentiful amount of the latter that she had to wade through since birth.

Shoulders stiff and chin high, she stares over his head at the door for a stretch of time before shrugging and slowly standing. ]

If you swear to arrange a trip for Elizabeth's belongings to follow me, then I shall go. But where I say.

[This time he's so surprised that it shows plainly in his face, and he sits up straight before thinking to get up. He actually talked her into it. How about that.]

No problem. [He covers the stupid look on his face with something he thinks is more professional. Serious matter and all.] Anything important you don't want to leave for later?

[ She ignores his question, since she knows well enough to pack what she needs. Even though she may be used to bringing a full progress with many carriages for her belongings, she has enough senses to know how to keep to filling only one bag. Something that she can attach to a saddle.

She won't raise her voice while moving about her apartments, expecting him to follow if he wants to hear. ]

I shall go, but I will not cower beneath a pew as if I were a babe without care. I will go to the orphanage... For how it has changed, the children there are the same. I can be certain they are safe.

[Right, the orphanage. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Now that he's convinced her, he doesn't mind being accommodating. After collecting himself, he walks to stand next to her, more or less expecting to be loaded down with whatever she chooses to carry.]

I'm sure they'll appreciate that.

[ She can't even bring an extra dress, as that would take more than one bag by itself, but she did at least pack a shift, shoes, jewelry, hair brush, toothbrush, rose water perfume, a flask, Frodo's journal, her bible and book of hours. Though she stiffens while he's close, that's nothing new, and she does in fact go to hand him the bag once it's stuffed to the gills, but stops short instead to set it on the bed in front of him. ]

I must change to my riding boots. They are in the wardrobe there.

[ And then, most pointedly, she slips out of her current shoes, gathers up her skirts to her knees, and sits with one leg slightly extended. Tense or not, her expression doesn't show it, and Anne doesn't have her ladies here, so she can't be picky with who laces up her knee-high boots. ]

[The bag he was anticipating to be even heavier than it ends up being, and he never doubted that he would be carrying it, so he's unphased by what she deems as emergency supplies. He's slinging it onto his shoulder when she sits.

He stares at her for a confused beat, then looks towards the wardrobe. ... Well, she packed her own bag, what more could he ask for?

Wordlessly, he sets down the bag and goes to retrieve her boots. At least they're practical. It's only when he comes back with them that he moves slower, and he doesn't meet her eyes again when he holds one out for her to slip a foot in. Despite how he entered, he knows enough not to argue about something that makes her more comfortable. He may be out of place, but with her around, he can't say he's inexperienced in this sort of thing any more.]

[ Anne makes a strong point to look as bored as she can while he does this. While nothing can be done for the racing of a heart, outwardly she could be a statue. ]

Where will you go?

[He'd just as well not talk as he works on the laces at this awkward angle, because as soon as she does, his hands pause.]

I don't know yet.

[ No matter what, she's not in the least shy about having her legs exposed, pulling the skirts up more as he works. At his angle, he might easily see the pistol strapped to her thigh. ]

Then why leave?

[It's her own fault that he looks up to see it as his eyes make their way to her face. And he was trying so hard not to be distracted.

A second later and he's refocusing on the boots and noticing how he missed one of the holes as he was lacing it. He wonders how long it'll take her to notice.]

I have my reasons.

[ It's so tempting to immediately slam her heel right into his mouth. To kick him to the floor and grind down, so that he would have an honest excuse for not answering her immediately. The stare she gives him is so focused, it's clear she's thinking something less than pleasant, and her imagination is vivid.

But she responds calmly. ]

Tell me them.

[He doesn't need to be looking directly at her to feel that stare. All it takes is a little time away and he's back to his annoying habit of vague responses. This one though, he thought would be obvious.]

A guilty conscience.

[ This time there's no hesitation as she slams her boot down, right onto the shoulder that carried the most recently injured arm. It would hurt even if it's healed. ]

Who has earned more of your guilt than I?

[Of course she knows all about his injury, so he won't pretend that wasn't on purpose. It hurts, but more than that, it finally gets him to show a spark of the anger she's been trying to instigate since he walked in.

He very carefully straightens his shoulders and stares up at her again. Hell of a time to get jealous.]

Are you really worried about losing your place?

My place?

[ Seeing him so close to a reaction only spurs her on, as she drops her skirts, and reaches down to grab his hand and keep it right there. Not exactly easy to lean over, but that's just how determined she is to make her point.

Whatever that is anymore. Even this close, it could be hard to tell if she's enticing or threatening. When she sees red, it's practically all the same. ]

You are not high or mighty enough to ever cause me worry. The only flaw in my character on such a matter is allowing you to even think I would consider myself so low.

It is your place I suspect. Who else commands your loyalties?

Edited 2014-09-01 03:29 (UTC)

[That had apparently not been the best way to put that, and yet the urge he has when she grabs his hand nearly makes him lose his place in their argument. Acting on it would keep her quiet, but only until she threw him out. He's put too much effort into this to throw it away now.

He repeats that to himself a few more times, then responds.]

A bunch of lost causes, probably. We didn't get out soon enough.

[ Her nails dig in, and there's a huff at his continued use of vague fancies. Were he not so utterly clueless, he could have mastered the courtly arts. ]

Then they are lost. I am not.

[At this point, he may be doing it more on purpose than out of habit.]

Not yet.

[ It's despicable how much he still tries to seem heroic or earnest. Has he fooled himself?

Her grip immediately relaxes, fingers gliding along the back of his hand as if to soothe the sharpness moments earlier. As mercurial as ever, her voice becomes more of a coo. ]

Is it so much easier to fail me than to fail others?

[It seems like it. His hand aches more than it should when she releases her grip, but that could be in his mind.]

They don't all have your standards.

Only more-so why you should find it more difficult to betray me. If not for respect of my standards...

[ Slowly, she pulls his hand from beneath the skirts, away from her leg and up to her breast. Pressing his palm to the center where bodice meets skin, Anne holds it there. ]

Then for love of me.

[Spike doesn't try to resist or move his hand away, too occupied with reading between her lines and feeling her chest rise and fall. Either she suspects that's the reason he came, or she knows exactly how to pull his strings. The timing couldn't be worse, and she knows that too.

In his mind, he's kissing her before his body ever rises, and it doesn't catch up with him when he leans into her. Calling her bluff, as if taking it as far as her dignity will allow is a way to prove a point. -- All while he tries to remember someone else's face, but it never comes to him. Even with all the talk about betrayal and lost causes.

It's a surprise he has time to think about any of the dangers around them. Or maybe that's his secret.]

[ She doesn't immediately turn him away, both hands flying grip at the back of his neck, nearly pulling him right on top of her. Breaths hot and shallow, Anne breaks the kiss only to follow with several small ones.

But even if they have claimed her marriage to Henry not lawful, that she is no longer a queen, she must hold as strong as Katherine had on this front. More-so, since she knows it even more her right. And it's these thoughts that remind her of her place, and his, so with fingers twisting roughly in his mussed hair, she yanks him back and away from her.

Then she lets go, touch immediately softening despite how she presses to his chest to urge him away. ]

[If he'd been looking for a signal, her response is enough to encourage him, and he falls in place far easier than he should. However interchangeable he might be in her mind, he would be a hypocrite to be offended when he'd been trying to imagine her as someone else. She hates that. Knowing this, he still wonders if it's the same spark that comes from living in spite of a doomed existence that attracted him. They make a good pair that way, although the complexity of that thought, or how true it actually is, erases itself sometime between the first and second contact.

The sharp tug at his hair pulls him out of it, barely, and soon after he's puzzling over the mixed signals. He takes in a few calming breaths, but doesn't move further than the wedge she placed between them.

This isn't the first time he's left questioning what she wants from him. It's not fair to ask, so he doesn't, and yet still he seems to be waiting for the answer.]

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