paradisa | 62; action/dictated

[Cold. Spike hadn't considered the weather when he made the decision to spend his morning working on the zipcraft. It had been put on the back burner shortly after he'd flown it through a wall and eventually transported it outside Brock's cabin. Of course he remembers now that he's trying to use the engine to warm his hands; he was going to wait until Spring before continuing that particular project, but recent events had Spike too anxious to do something (anything) normal. Even if it's something that he never had much of a knack for. Wouldn't surprise him if Brock had made more progress on the Redtail when he looked it over, and he's never even been in a spaceship. -- Still, it was his only idea, so he's sticking to it.

This isn't how ordinary people survive, and that thing with the mirror drove the point home. It happens again whenever he stops by the castle. Over and over, it's the same insane bullshit that he's getting clumsier at avoiding. And maybe there's a part of him that welcomes insanity. A place without blame or guilt. Where the past doesn't matter. If he thinks of it that way, it's not so bad.

They've all lost their sense of place in the world...

Annie's voice comes to him as clear as a bell, but everything that follows is immediately swallowed in haze. Were those her last words? Spike draws his hand back with a sudden jerk, and sparks fly out as the engine dies again.] --Dammit.

[No. He was wrong. This is really getting old.]

---

( Faye )

[Sometime later, after the noise coming out of the engine sounds less immediately suspicious, he bites the bullet. He'll feel better when it isn't hanging over his head anymore.]

Back from your vacation?

---

[Distant music filters in from the open journal. Not the kind of music you'd expect to hear from someone from the distant future. Old fashioned jazz. He's had it playing since he started working on the zipcraft, and now that he's done and waiting, he can actually sit back and enjoy it.]

They say the music you listen to says a lot about you.

[Mostly, it points to who has taste and who doesn't. Which can be a hard thing to come by.]

I wonder if they've got a club around here.

ooc: open to action and over the journal