paradisa | 040; action/dictated

Entry tags:

040; action/dictated

[There's that odd moment when you wake up somewhere different than where you fell asleep. Spike realizes it before he opens his eyes, which gives him the foresight to keep them shut until his curiosity gets the better of him. Silk sheets, the warmth of someone nearby, and as he peeks one eye open: a journal sitting open near the edge of the bed. Sometimes they really do try too hard.]

...

[When he glances over, it's the golden hair that finally gets a reaction. Julia? Her back is facing him, but he knows by now... it's her. All week, she's been avoiding him (not that he blames her), so of course the castle would see that as an opportunity to mess with a delicate situation. Spike doesn't wake her. If anything, he's very careful not to disturb any peace she's finding before their strange reality comes back into play. After a lingering silence, he slips off the edge of the bed, grabbing the journal as he moves, and finds a place by the window -- barely lifting an eyebrow at the overstuffed heart-shaped chair -- to sit and read.]

I could have sworn I've seen this before. [--he's mumbling, flipping through the last few pages until he has a better grasp on what's happening. He even manages to sound quietly amused at the commentary, even if they can't see his smile. At least it's not just him this time.]

Gets more like a prison every day. [You know, if prison was crossed with a tacky brothel.] They'll get it right eventually.

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[For once, she had been sleeping. Very peacefully. Completely dead to the world. It was such a rare event these days; not counting the time she'd spent unconscious or weakened from serious injury, she never slept for more than a few hours a night. There was always so much weighing on her mind that getting it to stop was nearly impossible.

After a time, though, she begins to stir. Maybe she'd registered the shift in weight somewhere beside of her, the lingering remnants of where there had once been warmth. In that weird place of half-consciousness, it feels... familiar. Something about it makes her reluctant to actually pull herself away from it. Whatever this is, let her have it for just a little longer.

Eyes still closed, and still not fully awake, she lets out a sigh and shifts to her other side. Toward the spot that's still somewhat warm.]

[The sound of Julia stirring lifts his head, and he instantly regrets talking too loudly on the journal. He ignores the impulse to speak up and startle her from what could be a nice dream. Wouldn't want to take that away from her.

Instead, he decides he should probably use the opportunity to slip in the shower and get rid of some of the evidence that he spent another night in a bar before waking up here. -- Only when he opens the bathroom door (thankfully, that one isn't locked) he audibly gags at the sheer amount of pink and red hearts they'd managed to cram into one room. Heart mirrors, heart shower curtain, the soap... The toilet even has a heart-shaped lid.

Apparently they're not going for subtlety.

Steeling himself for the worst horrors imaginable that are surely ahead, he steps inside and quietly shuts the door behind him.]

[Quiet, but not quiet enough. It's the sound of a door shutting that drags her into full consciousness once and for all, effectively breaking whatever illusion she'd been trying to preserve. Instantly, her instincts snap alert and she sits bold upright in bed. She isn't aware of much at the moment, but she knows one thing. She isn't alone.

(If anything, recent events have made her a little jumpier than usual.)

The sight that hits her eyes when she finally lets them examine her surroundings definitely makes her regret having woken up in the first place. In fact, it might even be enough to give her a headache. There's pink. Pink everywhere, clashing shades of it all over the place. She's still in her own room, she's pretty sure, but...--

... She scrunches her eyes shut momentarily, just to get away from it. It's way too much for someone who's just woken up. She needs time to think.]

[She has a few minutes. Spike isn't usually one to take a long shower, but circumstances are against him. (Namely, he couldn't find any shampoo that wasn't scented like someone sprayed a rose garden with gallons of old-lady perfume, so he's trying to see if he can wash it out with soap and sheer willpower.)

Eventually though, the water stops, and he reluctantly dries off with the most hideous towels he's ever seen... and suddenly can't find where his clothes went. What he'd left hanging over the sink seems to have been replaced with a set of neatly folded silk pajamas and a plush red robe.

Why the hell -- but no, he's not going to throw a fit over this. Instead he sets his jaw and puts them on. He doesn't even care.

Finally, he exits the bathroom, already wondering if he can sneak a cigarette without waking anyone. At least that would help with the smell and... oh, she's up.]

Morning. [Can they pretend this isn't awkward? He's going to give it a shot.]

[In all that time, she hasn't moved. She has her forehead in her hands, still trying to process this happy little development. It's a lot to throw at someone who not only just woke up, but had also just only recently returned from some of the strangest days of her life. Her threshold for tolerating strangeness was already at a handicap.

... And then she hears a voice. A familiar voice. The last one she'd been expecting to hear. She freezes. A million things are all racing through her mind at the same time, all of them only adding to that pile of guilt that always appeared when he was around. She hasn't said a word to him since she came back. Hasn't even attempted to find him. If the roles had been reversed....--

Eventually, she looks up and lets her hands drop quietly to her sides. (He looks ridiculous, by the way. If she hadn't been so paralyzed by her own awkwardness and guilt, she might have wanted to laugh. Maybe.)]

Good morning. [... But why not. She'll give it a shot too. This is what they do, right? Except maybe she's not quite succeeding, because there's a subtle hint of wariness that's still present in her voice.]

[That rough note in her voice doesn't go unnoticed; maybe her sleep wasn't as restful as he imagined. Which leaves Spike with a challenge to not make it worse. So he works up a smile at how obviously ridiculous this entire thing is, and does what he can not to look completely uncomfortable in an outfit that's unnaturally soft.

When he speaks again, he hopes he sounds apologetic enough to get the message across without having to say it.]

We're locked in. [Again...] I checked the journal. Seems to be a thing going around.

[Hearing that in his voice doesn't make her feel any better. In fact, it might only make her feel worse. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like he needed to apologize. This isn't his fault. None of this is his fault.

(... All in all, though, considering the history of castle shenanigans, she figures this could be worse. A lot worse.)]

And the decorations? [As she says this, she tries swallow that mess of whatever she's feeling down, tries to return a smile. Tries to make a joke, in her own little way. But it all ultimately falls flat right out of the gate.]

[At her cue, he looks up and around the room, possibly for the first time, noting how literally nothing was left unspoiled. Down to the last heart-shaped light switch.]

They weren't my idea. [He can keep this up as long as she can. (Which, depending on how long they're stuck in here, might have to be put to the test.)] I'd make sure you keep track of where you put your clothes.

[Even if she's not completely 100% successful at her efforts, it's still a comfort zone. At the very least, she can stall. (Stall until... what? Who knows.)

... If there's anything good about this whole situation, it does make for a convenient conversation piece.]

Any particular reason why? [Although, in evaluating that thing he's currently wearing, she has a sense that maybe she doesn't want to know.]

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dictated;

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Joshua

Spike

written; Joshua

written; Julia

written; Joshua

written; Julia

written; Joshua

written; Julia

written; Joshua