paradisalogs | one too many mornings

Entry tags:

one too many mornings

Who: Spike Spiegel (

gottaknockhard), Joshua Christopher (

ofhope), and Lucrezia Borgia (

heloise)
What: Story telling
When: Today
Where: The mansion
Rating: At least PG

It took a lot to convince Spike to do something he didn't want to do. Not many people could twist his arm, and even when they did, that would only encourage him to fight back more. Where most people would eventually grow out of that behavior, Spike had long accepted it as part of himself and thus it was nothing he cared to correct.

The situation with Joshua was one of those rare exceptions that he had trouble defining. Threats didn't usually work on him, but he found himself in a moral bind. His debts were stacking up against him, and for once, leaving things until they came tumbling down didn't hold a lot of appeal. He'd come to settle things, one way or another, before history started to repeat itself.

He pulled up to the mansion in the red convertible. Since he got it back, something seemed to change about it. Either he didn't trust anyone enough to leave it in one location, or the thing he thought it represented had been tarnished in some way. Whichever it was, he wasn't as reluctant to use it to get around as he had been.

Just like before, he walked up to the door and knocked. Only this time he came unannounced. If Joshua happened to not be home, he couldn't be blamed for not making the effort.

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Lucrezia's comment is enough of an answer for him, but he'll have to wait until the maid returns to ask her to start the fire. Joshua's not a wizard, folks.

Stretching out his legs, Joshua rests his arms across the back of the sofa and nods to Spike. "He's brought me a story. It's going to be like a fairy tale; you know, the real tragic ones."

Spike manages to pull back his judgmental silence, since that isn't going to get the attention off of him after he practically barged in to begin with. He even manages to conceal some of the tension that kept him by the door, and he finally walks over to a chair to sit. Everything since their last encounter still ate at him, and nothing more than revealing too much of his hand -- showing that he cared about what happened to Faye was probably his biggest mistake. Now it'll be hard to recover, but there's nothing he can do now but move on.

"I'm not sure it'll live up to the hype," he quipped as casually as his slumped position in his seat. He even managed a small smile at the girl as he stalls. His stubbornness is going to get him killed someday. "Maybe we can have a swap."

Oh, and how she loves stories! She shows it too, barely containing her grin, though she looks to Joshua to gauge his reaction too. They would not tea with sugar and lemons for the occasion. She hasn't forgotten.

But Spike is smiling her way, so she returns it twofold, resting her hands on her lap. Ready for the tale to begin. "One of mine for yours?"

Oh, Joshua likes that offer. That way he's off the hook, and he gains double. He just keeps smiling, saying nothing while looking at Spike. It shouldn't be long before the maid returns with the crackers and beer, and a tray of tea for Lucrezia.

"That sounds fair. As long as you have the time." Spike glances at Joshua, as if asking, and not simply trying to read his reaction. Ever the considerate guest.

"He's right though; mine is a bit of a downer. I don't know if it's the best to start with." Spike can hear the maid coming back already, but he turns his attention to the girl. It's important he play this right. "Unless I went with a different one."

Lucrezia gestures for the maid to set her tea on the couch beside her, though she doesn't touch it yet, her attention still on Spike.

"I like happy ones and sad ones the same," as long as they are equally tragic in the end or with undertones of it. "The gift is for you," she turns to Joshua, watching him for his reaction too. The man of the hour. "Are we to laugh or to cry for you today?"

Joshua shrugs a bit, just smiling his smile. "No good story has only drama or comedy. You need a little of something even if the other dominates the plot. Spike gets that, right?"

When the maid gets close, Joshua waves to get her attention and then points at the hearth. Pretty simple enough! He hadn't had it going because he wouldn't notice as much as these two, really.

"But I'm the one who requested he tell a story... It's only fair that I tell him one of my own, too." Not really. Spike owes him this story. Joshua's just playing a game, but who knows what kind. "If Lucrezia wants to request another story, she can tell her own. You may not know anything about the Borgia, Spike, but the church is always full of good stories!" He doesn't just mean the Catholic church, either, but the Exorcists have nothing to do with Lucrezia.

"I'll bet," Spike replies evenly while reaching for the beer the maid brought in. She's religious too. Somehow that doesn't surprise him.

"Now we just need to decide who goes first." He watches the maid at the hearth, wondering briefly if she'll be listening to the whole thing. Or how much she's already overheard since she started working here. The pay must be good.

"Unless you want to flip a coin."

Lucrezia may be close to a religious relic herself, but that says nothing of how devout she may be. None at all, perhaps. She moves to stand from the couch and watch the maid work at setting up the fire, glancing at Joshua before.

"I prefer telling you stories less sordid," she smirks, though she would wink if she knows what it means. Then, to Spike, "I should like to flip the coin."

Well, Joshua sure doesn't have any money on him right now, so it's up to the other two to supply the coin. Or the maid, if she feels like sharing before leaving them alone.

"Fair enough... You're un-biased." Maybe, he isn't always sure what's going through her head. It's much better that way, and usually more fun. He'll grab a cracker and nod in her direction, though he's looking at the guest of honor. "Spike can call it."

"Fine by me." Rather than meet Joshua's eyes for longer than a few seconds, Spike takes the suggestion and digs around in his pocket for a coin. It's too bad he doesn't have any trick ones on him, since he is the biased company that Joshua hinted at. He finds a normal coin though. Ever prepared.

"Here." He tosses it to the girl, because apparently his seat is too comfortable to get up and hand it to her.

When she flips, he's already decided to call 'heads'. One last chance to drag it out.

She catches the coin with both hands, nearly dropping it altogether if not for luck.

This is fun. She has rarely been given the chance to be the one to decide things, between men too, and it shows in how she tries not to grin too wide as she moves to stand between them, the coin resting on her thumb. And there it goes.

She fails to catch it this time, letting the coin twirl on the floor before settling on... heads!

Joshua doesn't have to lean over to look, still draped back against the couch, and he'll let out a laugh a moment later.

"The odds are in Spike's favor this time... Lucrezia must be your new lady luck."

Another cracker. He's hungry... And doesn't seem to care much at all about this, really. It's often difficult to tell. But would he hound Spike so much if he didn't?

"What story do you want?"

It's nice that nobody called him out on not assigning anything to either side of the coin before the flip. Just his way of covering his back no matter which way it landed.

"Ladies are usually first." He eyes Lucrezia and offers a gentle smile. The luck part is yet to be seen.

She chuckles at Spike, thinking she must be the one having the most fun in this room now, with how the both of them are doting on her. But she goes back to sit beside Joshua, brushing down her skirt and crossing her ankles properly before she begins her story. She has chosen this one ever since they started talking about tales.

"The brother took his little sister by the hand and said, `Since our parents died we have had no happiness. Our stepmother beats us and our meals are the hard crusts of bread even the stray dogs would not eat. So come, we will go forth together into the wide world.'"

She stops there first, watching the two of them to see whether it is to their liking.

Oh, a brother and a sister, he's all ears, even sliding down to rest his head in her lap while he listens. This means giving up a third cracker, but it's the most comfortable position, especially when listening to a story.

This isn't quite the sort of story Joshua and Spike have been discussing, but it isn't an accident that she remains mostly clueless to the situation. Joshua doesn't desire her to be involved much more than Spike does, but he's good enough with words to talk about it in front of her without actually saying anything of value.

Perhaps that's why he likes Spike so much. He follows, and he pushes himself, in his own little ways. He hopes the last visit wasn't too stressful for Spike... He'd hate for the man to suddenly stop being interesting just to keep his head low.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders what story Spike will ask for from him. It doesn't matter, does it? There are misunderstandings and rumors from here to there about him, with barely a handful of people knowing even a fraction of the truth. That's just their fault for not asking, so what should he care?

He's not in a rush, enjoying the lulling sound of Lucrezia's voice, but he does want to get to Spike's story — to Julia, or the man (men? He and Alice had never really concluded if it was just one or more) that wanted the car stolen, or why her car matters in the first place. Why she matters. Does Spike even know? It seems to be white noise so much of the time when that topic comes up.

"They don't find a candy house, do they?"

Spike makes a show of listening, for his part, even if she could have been telling the story of her long lost handkerchief and he'd have the same concentrated expression. It'd fit, in his mind, if she picks some sort of fantasy that would tie her into the world she's gravitating towards. Full of demons and angels. At least initially, it seems like she might.

But he doesn't actually know anything about Lucrezia, and he's careful not to take up another cause when he's failed at the last few he's attempted. Anything gained here beyond his reprieve is a bonus while he comes up with his own story. Even now, he hasn't quite decided how he's going to approach it.

The candy house reference is sadly lost on him, and he spares a glance Joshua's way. Spike and his poor deprived childhood.

Lucrezia drops her gaze to him, absently brushing away golden strands from his face while resting her other palm against his neck, lightly, as always. "No candy house, unfortunately," and even if she did understand the kinds of stories they would prefer, she would rather tell ones more distant and closer in other ways.

"So brother and sister walked the entire day over meadows, fields and stony places until they came to a large forest come nightfall. They were so weary with sorrow and hunger that they lay down in a hollow tree. When they awoke the next day, the sun was already high in the sky, shining down mercilessly into the tree. Then the brother said, 'Sister, I am thirsty. If we find a little brook I would go and take a drink.' And the brother stood up and took his sister by the hand, setting off to find it.

"But the stepmother was a witch and she saw how the children fled and had crept after them quietly, bewitching all the brooks in the forest. So when they found a little spring leaping brightly over the stones, the brother rushed to drink out of it, but the sister heard how the water said as it ran: who drinks of me will become a tiger, who drinks of me will become a tiger. Then the sister cried, 'Pray, dear brother, do not drink or you will become a wild tiger and tear me to pieces.' The brother did not drink though he was so thirsty, saying, 'I will wait for the next brook.'

"When they came to the next one, the sister heard this one also say: who drinks of me will become a wolf, who drinks of me will become a wolf. Then the sister cried out, 'Pray, dear brother, do not drink or you will become a wolf and devour me.' The brother did not drink and said, 'I will wait until the next spring, but then I must drink for my thirst is too great.'

"And when they did find the third brook, the sister again heard the water sing as it ran: who drinks of me will become a deer, who drinks of me will become a deer. The sister said, 'Oh, I beg you, dear brother, do not drink or you will become a deer and run away from me.' But the brother had knelt down at once and drunk some of the water, and as soon as the first drops touched his lips, he lay there a young deer. So now the sister wept and the little deer also, sitting sorrowfully near her.

"Until at last the girl said, 'Be quiet, little deer, I will never ever leave you.'"

She stops then, as if she has reached the end of the story, leaning down now to kiss Joshua on his brow.

Joshua listens with an equally intent look on his face, though it's completely sincere, with a sort of fascinated adoration softening his features the more she goes on. His eyes never leave her face, not until she reaches the mention of the deer, and then his gaze flicks to the ceiling with an appreciative 'Hm,' at a parallel Spike no doubt couldn't even pick up on. It's an interesting enough story on it's own so far.

At her kiss to his brow, Joshua reaches up to brush his hand across her cheek, ear, stopping to thread his fingers through her hair while his eyes close. Spike might as well not be there, again, though this time it's hardly intentional.

He lets go, though, expecting her to go on.

It's a strange story, made considerably stranger by the way he suddenly finds himself watching her gently coddle Joshua as she tells it. If it makes him uncomfortable, he'll never say. The thought even crosses his mind that he could probably get up and quietly leave right now without either of them noticing. And he might have, if that didn't also defeat the purpose.

Once he reminds himself that he's committed, he sets the drink in his hand down on the table near him just hard enough to make a sound. Not obnoxiously rude, but loud enough to remind them that that he's here before she goes on.

She remembers Spike's presence though she doesn't care enough to act differently than she does in private. It would be polite not to ignore guests however, so she leans back to look his way with a faint smile, amusement dancing at the edges.

"The sister took her golden garter and placed it round the little deer's neck," and she traces Joshua's in the meanwhile, marking a line across his throat. "And by it she led him through the forest until they came to an empty house. She found leaves and moss to make a soft bed for her brother, and nightly she laid her head on the deer's back, and was content.

"Eventually, the king heard tell of a deer with a golden collar roaming the woods and set out to find it, and in the chase it led him to that little house. There he found the sister, now grown into the loveliest woman he has ever seen, and he asked for her hand that she might be his queen. And he took both brother and sister to his palace and there they lived without a single worry on their mind."

She sighs, now leaning back on her hands and looking up again to watch their guest and gauge how much patience he has left to suffer this stalling. "And when the stepmother came to claim her share of the fortune, well, it was only their chance at revenge. As the witch's ash scattered in the wind, the brother turned back into the most gallant knight. And the people loved them and all was well."

Joshua barely acknowledges Spike's show for attention, just waiting patient for the rest of the story. It is a little slow paced, but it has enough familiar elements to keep his attention until she reaches the part whre the stepmother turns to ash, and he can barely hold back a short snicker.

Rolling more fully onto his back, Joshua links his hands to rest over his chest, raising an eyebrow curiously up at her. "Is that the end? It sounds too good to be true... I don't know how we can beat it."

It's not that he's impatient -- really, the longer the story lingers, the better off he is -- but he can't shake that unnerving feeling he gets whenever he looks over at the obvious display of affection while she tells her story. Something feels wrong on a fundamental level here, and it starts with Spike being around to witness it.

The story itself is unoffensive. When it seems it comes to an end with a happily ever after, he leans back in his chair, reaching again for the drink. Whenever he catches a glance his way, he puts on a smile to convince them that he's having a good time, but he's otherwise silent. No offering to pick up where she left off. Let the two of them discuss. He's never been good at that stuff anyway.

"A story does not have to end well to be a good story."

Her favorite ones are the tragedies, the unrequited lovers, the needless sacrifices. The gesture speaks more even when the purpose is not achieved. But she has completed her end of the bargain, so she looks to Spike this time, biting back her smile to hide a little of her enthusiasm.

"What will your story be, Spike? Will it be a happy one or even better, a tragic one?"

Spike's bluffing comes up as short as it ever does with Joshua, but there's no point in calling him on it except for the most fun of times. He'd already done so too recently, at the stairwell... Joshua will have to let his attempt at manners slide until more time's passed, so as not to scare the other man off too far.

He never likes his pack to wander too far, whether everyone's getting along or not.

"He knows what types of stories I want. I know so many of the protagonists already, but the villains remain a mystery. The beginning and the end seem clear, but what about all of the mess in the middle? Did Valentine ever get involved? I must know..."

Stretching his arms above his head, almost like a cat, he then shuts his eyes and smiles, murmuring a mismatched memory under his breath, "Oh Ed, anything but blue..."

Whatever Spike had in his head to reply, it's thrown off the second Joshua mentions Ed of all people. Something Faye told him, or something he overheard? Did he know Ed?

"You're right. It's going to be hard to top that last one. There's no magic and witches in mine." His forced smile falls slowly, like the effort he put in keeping it up is running low. It doesn't matter if he's convincing anyone now; he has to distance himself if he's going to avoid prying questions. Close enough to the truth to pay his debt, but far enough away to actually get through it without showing emotion. "Although there is a dragon."

This would all be assisted if he had something stronger than beer as backup. It makes him regret losing that flask, for more reasons than one. Joshua might have recognized it though.

This is comfortable, Joshua's weight on her lap. She leans back against the couch with one hand resting over his arm, a small smile on her face. If she senses any of the tension between the two men, she hardly seems to notice. She can even overlook all these strange names being dropped. Valentine. Ed. Common friends, perhaps?

"A dragon! Did you kill it like Sant Jordi did? Saint George? Then your story will surpass mine by far," She reaches for her cup of tea, now lukewarm from the wait, and takes a small sip before looking up at Spike again. "Tell us then. I can hardly wait."

Joshua's eyes open and slide over in Spike's direction, watching him wordlessly. For the moment, with the intensity he stares, Lucrezia might suddenly as well be the one not in the room.

Waiting.

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one too many mornings

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it's ok you can slap me :(