Spike Spiegel (
gottaknockhard) wrote in
paradisalogs2013-08-30 08:32 pm
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Entry tags:
maybe it's the color of the sun cut flat and coverin' the crossroads I'm standing at
Who: Spike Spiegel (
gottaknockhard) and Anne Boleyn (
ensorceler)
What: When you can't think of a comeback...
When: Late night/between the 30th-31st
Where: Room 613
Rating: PG13
From the sound of things, Paradisa's temporary residents were going through one of their more serious moments; those instances when there's a legitimate urgency to be doing anything but aimlessly roam the halls of the castle in the middle of the night. Spike was well aware of the plans announced over the journal, and it didn't even factor into what was putting a dent in his sleep.
Maybe it made him a bad person for putting his own reality ahead of mysterious voices on the radio. Or he just didn't like the idea of crowds. Spike had no better excuse for what brought him to the room he's standing in front of. Aside from the nagging feeling that he didn't get what he meant to say out the last time he saw her, there wasn't a single reason he should be disturbing whatever sleep she finally managed to find.
Sometimes he wasn't clever enough to think of a mysterious riddle to leave on her doorstep, or to have forethought outside of a whim guided by... whatever it was that pulled him around lately. He simply knocked and waited for her answer.
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What: When you can't think of a comeback...
When: Late night/between the 30th-31st
Where: Room 613
Rating: PG13
From the sound of things, Paradisa's temporary residents were going through one of their more serious moments; those instances when there's a legitimate urgency to be doing anything but aimlessly roam the halls of the castle in the middle of the night. Spike was well aware of the plans announced over the journal, and it didn't even factor into what was putting a dent in his sleep.
Maybe it made him a bad person for putting his own reality ahead of mysterious voices on the radio. Or he just didn't like the idea of crowds. Spike had no better excuse for what brought him to the room he's standing in front of. Aside from the nagging feeling that he didn't get what he meant to say out the last time he saw her, there wasn't a single reason he should be disturbing whatever sleep she finally managed to find.
Sometimes he wasn't clever enough to think of a mysterious riddle to leave on her doorstep, or to have forethought outside of a whim guided by... whatever it was that pulled him around lately. He simply knocked and waited for her answer.
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"Is there someone you've got your eye on?"
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She all but collapses in her "throne" in as much a dignified manner as possible, not giving him leave to sit, but she won't really complain if he does. As much as she harasses him for, he is permitted quite a few leniencies. That may just be Paradisa wearing at her, though.
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"You never know what might change."
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She doesn't feel the need to explain her laughter, and so she doesn't; he sure never explains anything of use. But hadn't he just been saying that nothing really changes? And she had retorted just the opposite. Maybe his memory is daft. Maybe he's too blind to see what has changed; with them alone, and with them together. With the world, with God, with beasts and flame.
With the large, empty void that always seems to exist at her side where her beloved family once was.
"What..." She spaces the word out, staring at him over her glass like he might actually have something useful to say for once, even if her gaze is narrowed. "...has changed?"
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Now that he's said it, her sudden amusement and curiosity stops him from back-peddling on the contradicting comment. Even half-drunk and half-asleep, she catches the slip instantly, so any cover up would likely be spotted anyway.
"I'm out of work, for one." Which isn't why he came by her room, not by a long shot, and that much accounts for the sigh that he releases as he finds something to lean against. "Again, actually. I wonder if that counts."
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After learning that all in England, nay all of Europe, had turned on her save for her daughter, is it really any wonder?
"Of Emma and her loyal hound, I know nothing of what they do, but I did not see them at the farewell." The last time she spoke to "Emma" was in Tokyo. "All others I know have gone."
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It wouldn't be the first welcome he overstayed.
"Almost like I planned it that way." His humor drifts by without thought, and without any real conviction behind it. How rude of him not to be fully present in front of a queen. She doesn't know how much of a distraction she is, even to herself.
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Her legs uncross, both feet flat on the floor with each hand draped across the arm rests, relaxed in contrast to how straight she sits, with chin slightly lifted. Her own expression still remains muddled between amusement and irritation, if one can see through the dark and moonlight, but her breaths are short and heightened.
"Here I am, then. Best have your blade strike true, else you will find it next through your own heart."
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"You wouldn't be surprised?" As he speaks, he comes closer, until he's kneeling and looking up at her face. There is some restraint on his part not to close the space between them entirely. "All criminals are alike."
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"If they be so, then you would know all of the others here as well as yourself, and be able to keep them at bay or in sights as you please. But I think you do not even know yourself. Would you recognize your soul if it was shown to you?"
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With her, it's a different story. One he knows too many details of, by both of their standards, but that creates the kind of sympathy that inspires a dangerous amount of honesty.
"It might be missing some pieces. That would give me somewhere to start."
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Lifting her foot a touch, silk slipper propping underneath his chin, Anne dares a smirk; nothing half-hidden or veiled. Where it stems from, she won't say, but it is one of a darker sense of satisfaction at another's expense.
"Do you wish to see if it will split down the middle? How much more can be done before there is nothing left?"
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"I have a pretty good head start on you."
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"I think I would wager differently, sir. But this is no competition. You are not my peer, nor ever will you be."
Her legs cross, then, in a flurry of the skirts of her shift and robe, and one hand rests to her breast as she recovers from her fit remarkably fast, but a little smile remains there, even if her eyes glitter with an intent that is not kind.
"You have betrayed me as swiftly as any other; your lack of intent matters nothing to me. I care only for results. So what will it be in this case? Do things change, or do they not?"
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In a battle of pessimism, who would win? Being that he's always been somewhat of a competitive person, he can't help but imagine the outcome. Although when weighing her impaired ability to buffer herself, it may not be a fair time to judge.
Still, the castle has been feeding on his soul for years longer -- maybe longer than he even knows, seeing as there exists evidence that he's lost all memory of being here once or twice. Not exactly something to gloat over.
"Do you believe in things changing for the better?" His tone is light, despite himself, as if delivering nothing more important than a punchline. Or a tiebreaker, as the case may be.
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How I wish to believe, yes; in something.
The Queen smothers it without mercy, and her normally bright blue eyes remain as dark as ever in the shadows of her throne, and she only sneers at him.
"All things gain for the better. And then, for certain, all things collapse. And so it goes, forever after, that struggle for power that not even the gods could keep hold of."
Leaning down, with one arm now draped almost casually over her knee, Anne glares while smiling.
"But it is still better to have an empire for a short while than not at all."
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"Then there's a chance." He rises finally, and stretches his legs and shoulders. It helps to keep him from lingering too long on the subject. Of all the reasons he didn't have for coming, he knows reflecting on himself as much has he has since he came inside wasn't one of them.
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"With your assurance, I am most soothed." There is a chance, maybe, her tone could get drier if she tried.
"What else have you come to bother me with? For it must not be this. You are not fit for service; you never were." He fails too often at doing her bidding, at least by her standards. "You made me laugh, once. That is all."
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The answer he has isn't going to help to smooth things over.
"I said it before. I couldn't sleep, and I was thinking about you."
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"Be silent! I think I should know better, and so ought you. If the flesh is all you desire, then go tickle your fancy at a proper brothel."
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He's been reading too much.
"I wanted to see how you were doing, that's all." He half turns away, before she can even tell him to leave, which he knows he should. "I got ahead of myself."
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Not that she doesn't still demand romantic gestures when she so wishes.
"That is all." Her free hand grasps for his tie again, as if that would keep him from leaving. Not be desire, but by right. She didn't tell him to yet. "And so you awoke me on a whim, only to see me, and kiss me, and make me angry? Is that all? How little. How little."
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"It seems like the usual, doesn't it?" And maybe there's a spark of defiance somewhere in there, although who knew what that could mean. Sometimes he pushes her just because he sees the opportunity.
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