Meme (from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rude_not_ginger)
Mar. 15th, 2009 10:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_pretty_fireIf you want to have your pup have some sort of sexual relations with mine, comment here! I'll write a drabble / short fiction making it happen.
It was impossible to escape the fact that Drusilla was quite, quite mad.
It was also impossible to escape the fact that she was a vampire, through she was a pathetic specimen when considered alongside the legends of the Great Vampires. The Master had been almost disappointed.
They’d met on a London street, a few days before his marriage to Lucy, and the Master had been tempted to kill her for her sense of ‘wrongness’ alone. Before he could find an implement suitable for decapitation, however, Drusilla had started to speak. Nonsense phrases, at first, but, once he’d picked out a few words, it made almost too much sense. She started to tell him about a planet on fire, and the man who had extinguished it forever. She talked about skipping from the past to the future to the present, like children playing hopscotch.
“His name lies. Medicine men make people better, but death walks in his shadow and sings pretty tunes when he passes by.”
She was a Seer.
That made her more wrong than ever, of course. But it also made her useful.
***
Drusilla moved through the shadows of the cellar like a serpent, her hips swaying to a tune that nobody else could hear, and her eyes – always watching, always searching – focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. She insisted that she wasn’t lonely down in the darkness – “Oh, I have Miss Edith! We have picnics and listen to the moon.” – and he wasn’t inclined to argue. She was quiet and, as long as he provided her with people to eat from time to time, happy enough.
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. He gleaned bits and pieces of information about the Doctor’s plans and Archangel’s ideal design, and she had somebody to look after her. Drusilla’s insanity seemed to be a sort of mental defence. She was happy to let him care for her, and even happier to follow instructions. In so many ways, she was a child who had not grown up. A grotesque Peter Pan, if you will. She needed him, and … well, he didn’t need her. But she was useful, and that was enough.
“I can see the stars in you,” she murmured, a pale hand splayed against the Master’s chest, “Constellations running through your blood. Supernovas bursting in your mind…”
She trailed off and laughed, revelling in the punch line of joke she didn’t bother to complete.
“Always running out of time. The man built of clock ticks never has enough.”
“I take it you’ve had no more insights regarding the Toclafane?”
“Soldiers from the edge of time, they are. You’re going to build a new empire.”
“New insights, Drusilla,” he said, catching her wrist before she could undo any of his buttons. She pouted petulantly.
“Not yet, not yet. The stars are silent. They’re waiting, just like you.”
“Then I’m wasting my time here, aren’t I?” he said. The vampire made a low, keening sound in the back of her throat.
“You promised we could play!”
“And you promised to tell me something new.”
“I can’t make them speak to me. Please, Daddy?”
“Don’t call me that,” the Master said, sharply, and Drusilla’s lips curved into a mischievous smile.
“Master.”
He smirked, moving towards the bed on the other side of the cellar.
“Much better.”
Drusilla has never met another Seer before. She doesn’t know if that’s because Daddy kept them all to himself, or because she was too busy chattering with the pixies to pay attention. She thinks the moon would have told her, though. Introducing friends of friends at tea parties, ready to play pass the parcel.
She doesn’t kill her straight away. She was going to, at first, before she discovered a better game. Juni Swann didn’t look like a screamer, although you never know how a person will react when death soars towards them on swift, shining wings. Drusilla has spent centuries chopping people up into messes, and she was still surprised from time to time.
(She had screamed. Or did she sob? Drusilla can never remember. It’s strange to think about how upset she was on her birthday, before she was new.)
Juni lives in half worlds and shadow worlds, in the spaces between universes, in the places where spider webs grow and the chess pieces sing. She reminds Drusilla of Grandmummy Darla. Kisses like Grandmother, too, all sharpness and bitumen on her lips. Bitumen. Bitter. Like tears and wormwood.
There’s a monster at her heels, with a hole in his chest and snakes where his soul should be. They don’t make demons like that in Drusilla’s world. What fun she and Spike could have if they did …
No. She doesn’t want to think about Spike. Spike and his Slayer and the wires fizzing away in his head. She won’t let them taint her new games, or steal away her new friend before they have time to learn all the steps to the dance.
She kisses away Juni’s tears. They’re there, shining on her cheeks, even if Juni doesn’t know they’ve been shed. Drusilla can see. Juni is a mirror, a pane of glass, a crystal ball, a drop of ink in a pool of water. Strange, isn’t it? Reading the future on human skin. On human skin that tastes of magic and sings like the night sky.
One day, the swan will turn into a bat. That isn’t how the story goes, but Drusilla has never liked the old nursery rhymes. They’re going to swim the ocean together and burst out of the earth with soil in their hair and pearls on their tongue.
One day, Drusilla will have a beautiful baby daughter. A daughter who will call her 'Mummy' - Spike never does that, even when she says her nicest please - and play pretty games all night long.
One day. One day.
Vampires were quick, but Faith has always prided herself on being just a little bit quicker. Maybe she was losing it in her old age? Not that she was old. Just old for a Slayer. Most of them didn’t make it into their twenties, but she and B had always been special cases.
That was what had made her so damn stupid. She’d allowed herself to think that ‘special’ was the same as ‘invincible’. Now a crazy vampire – a crazy vampire in a white nightdress, with wide eyes in a pale face and a smile like a snake – was backing her into a corner, and her stake was a pile of kindling on the other side of the church.
“You know, you’ve really gotta bring yourself into the twenty first century,” she snarled, because if she couldn’t fight with weapons then she was sure as hell going to toss out a few insults, “What self-respecting vampire sleeps in a crypt these days?”
“I like the darkness. People can talk to me in the shadows.”
“You really are just a great big can of crazy, aren’t you?”
The vampire smiled, placing a finger to her lips as she advanced.
“I know you. You don’t know me. I made you. I split the other Slayers throat, and you stepped out of her neck. I think I like you more. You know how to play.”
“You … you’re Drusilla!”
Faith knew that she should have been able to guess that, what with the cryptic words and the penchant for diaphanous dresses. She’d always wanted to meet the woman who had sired Spike and killed Kendra, although her daydreams usually involved a stake and some dust, not broken bones and a smirking vampire.
“Mmmmm. And you’re Faith. Don’t be sad. I’m not angry at you. You'll always have me, Faith. I'm the best, the most important friend you'll ever have.”
Just for a moment – a horrible, dizzying moment – Faith heard the Mayor’s voice. In that brief patch of uncertainty, Drusilla – still smiling – caught hold of the threads of her mind and stepped inside.
***
“Who would you like me to be?” Drusilla whispered, tracing Faith’s collarbone with her lips as she pressed the other woman further into the ragged mattress that passed for her bed.
As Faith moaned and writhed, the figure leaning over her flickered and changed. Drusilla became Wesley, as bruised and blood-stained as he’d been when she’d tortured him. Then, just as suddenly, she was Wood, Spike, Xander, even Giles. She was Angelus and Angel at the same time, hovering somewhere between the two as Faith panted and arched into the vampire's insistent touch.
“I can be anyone you want. We can rewrite the stars.”
For a moment, it was Buffy who was straddling Faith, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and her eyes dark with lust. Faith gasped, bucking her hips and closing her eyes. When she opened them again, it was Drusilla who was kissing her.
She didn’t care. She still kissed back.
“You deserve better than the Slayer,” laughed Drusilla, “All that darkness in your soul. I can taste it. I can taste you …”
Still smiling, the vampire leaned forward and sank her teeth into Faith’s neck. The Slayer moaned, softly, but she didn’t cry out.
“I made you,” Drusilla murmured, drawing a razor sharp nail across a bare breast and guiding Faith’s lips to the cut, “But I didn’t do properly. I’ll make it up to you now, my sweet. Mummy will make it better.”
Faith moaned once more, then drank.
It was impossible to escape the fact that Drusilla was quite, quite mad.
It was also impossible to escape the fact that she was a vampire, through she was a pathetic specimen when considered alongside the legends of the Great Vampires. The Master had been almost disappointed.
They’d met on a London street, a few days before his marriage to Lucy, and the Master had been tempted to kill her for her sense of ‘wrongness’ alone. Before he could find an implement suitable for decapitation, however, Drusilla had started to speak. Nonsense phrases, at first, but, once he’d picked out a few words, it made almost too much sense. She started to tell him about a planet on fire, and the man who had extinguished it forever. She talked about skipping from the past to the future to the present, like children playing hopscotch.
“His name lies. Medicine men make people better, but death walks in his shadow and sings pretty tunes when he passes by.”
She was a Seer.
That made her more wrong than ever, of course. But it also made her useful.
***
Drusilla moved through the shadows of the cellar like a serpent, her hips swaying to a tune that nobody else could hear, and her eyes – always watching, always searching – focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. She insisted that she wasn’t lonely down in the darkness – “Oh, I have Miss Edith! We have picnics and listen to the moon.” – and he wasn’t inclined to argue. She was quiet and, as long as he provided her with people to eat from time to time, happy enough.
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. He gleaned bits and pieces of information about the Doctor’s plans and Archangel’s ideal design, and she had somebody to look after her. Drusilla’s insanity seemed to be a sort of mental defence. She was happy to let him care for her, and even happier to follow instructions. In so many ways, she was a child who had not grown up. A grotesque Peter Pan, if you will. She needed him, and … well, he didn’t need her. But she was useful, and that was enough.
“I can see the stars in you,” she murmured, a pale hand splayed against the Master’s chest, “Constellations running through your blood. Supernovas bursting in your mind…”
She trailed off and laughed, revelling in the punch line of joke she didn’t bother to complete.
“Always running out of time. The man built of clock ticks never has enough.”
“I take it you’ve had no more insights regarding the Toclafane?”
“Soldiers from the edge of time, they are. You’re going to build a new empire.”
“New insights, Drusilla,” he said, catching her wrist before she could undo any of his buttons. She pouted petulantly.
“Not yet, not yet. The stars are silent. They’re waiting, just like you.”
“Then I’m wasting my time here, aren’t I?” he said. The vampire made a low, keening sound in the back of her throat.
“You promised we could play!”
“And you promised to tell me something new.”
“I can’t make them speak to me. Please, Daddy?”
“Don’t call me that,” the Master said, sharply, and Drusilla’s lips curved into a mischievous smile.
“Master.”
He smirked, moving towards the bed on the other side of the cellar.
“Much better.”
Drusilla has never met another Seer before. She doesn’t know if that’s because Daddy kept them all to himself, or because she was too busy chattering with the pixies to pay attention. She thinks the moon would have told her, though. Introducing friends of friends at tea parties, ready to play pass the parcel.
She doesn’t kill her straight away. She was going to, at first, before she discovered a better game. Juni Swann didn’t look like a screamer, although you never know how a person will react when death soars towards them on swift, shining wings. Drusilla has spent centuries chopping people up into messes, and she was still surprised from time to time.
(She had screamed. Or did she sob? Drusilla can never remember. It’s strange to think about how upset she was on her birthday, before she was new.)
Juni lives in half worlds and shadow worlds, in the spaces between universes, in the places where spider webs grow and the chess pieces sing. She reminds Drusilla of Grandmummy Darla. Kisses like Grandmother, too, all sharpness and bitumen on her lips. Bitumen. Bitter. Like tears and wormwood.
There’s a monster at her heels, with a hole in his chest and snakes where his soul should be. They don’t make demons like that in Drusilla’s world. What fun she and Spike could have if they did …
No. She doesn’t want to think about Spike. Spike and his Slayer and the wires fizzing away in his head. She won’t let them taint her new games, or steal away her new friend before they have time to learn all the steps to the dance.
She kisses away Juni’s tears. They’re there, shining on her cheeks, even if Juni doesn’t know they’ve been shed. Drusilla can see. Juni is a mirror, a pane of glass, a crystal ball, a drop of ink in a pool of water. Strange, isn’t it? Reading the future on human skin. On human skin that tastes of magic and sings like the night sky.
One day, the swan will turn into a bat. That isn’t how the story goes, but Drusilla has never liked the old nursery rhymes. They’re going to swim the ocean together and burst out of the earth with soil in their hair and pearls on their tongue.
One day, Drusilla will have a beautiful baby daughter. A daughter who will call her 'Mummy' - Spike never does that, even when she says her nicest please - and play pretty games all night long.
One day. One day.
Vampires were quick, but Faith has always prided herself on being just a little bit quicker. Maybe she was losing it in her old age? Not that she was old. Just old for a Slayer. Most of them didn’t make it into their twenties, but she and B had always been special cases.
That was what had made her so damn stupid. She’d allowed herself to think that ‘special’ was the same as ‘invincible’. Now a crazy vampire – a crazy vampire in a white nightdress, with wide eyes in a pale face and a smile like a snake – was backing her into a corner, and her stake was a pile of kindling on the other side of the church.
“You know, you’ve really gotta bring yourself into the twenty first century,” she snarled, because if she couldn’t fight with weapons then she was sure as hell going to toss out a few insults, “What self-respecting vampire sleeps in a crypt these days?”
“I like the darkness. People can talk to me in the shadows.”
“You really are just a great big can of crazy, aren’t you?”
The vampire smiled, placing a finger to her lips as she advanced.
“I know you. You don’t know me. I made you. I split the other Slayers throat, and you stepped out of her neck. I think I like you more. You know how to play.”
“You … you’re Drusilla!”
Faith knew that she should have been able to guess that, what with the cryptic words and the penchant for diaphanous dresses. She’d always wanted to meet the woman who had sired Spike and killed Kendra, although her daydreams usually involved a stake and some dust, not broken bones and a smirking vampire.
“Mmmmm. And you’re Faith. Don’t be sad. I’m not angry at you. You'll always have me, Faith. I'm the best, the most important friend you'll ever have.”
Just for a moment – a horrible, dizzying moment – Faith heard the Mayor’s voice. In that brief patch of uncertainty, Drusilla – still smiling – caught hold of the threads of her mind and stepped inside.
***
“Who would you like me to be?” Drusilla whispered, tracing Faith’s collarbone with her lips as she pressed the other woman further into the ragged mattress that passed for her bed.
As Faith moaned and writhed, the figure leaning over her flickered and changed. Drusilla became Wesley, as bruised and blood-stained as he’d been when she’d tortured him. Then, just as suddenly, she was Wood, Spike, Xander, even Giles. She was Angelus and Angel at the same time, hovering somewhere between the two as Faith panted and arched into the vampire's insistent touch.
“I can be anyone you want. We can rewrite the stars.”
For a moment, it was Buffy who was straddling Faith, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and her eyes dark with lust. Faith gasped, bucking her hips and closing her eyes. When she opened them again, it was Drusilla who was kissing her.
She didn’t care. She still kissed back.
“You deserve better than the Slayer,” laughed Drusilla, “All that darkness in your soul. I can taste it. I can taste you …”
Still smiling, the vampire leaned forward and sank her teeth into Faith’s neck. The Slayer moaned, softly, but she didn’t cry out.
“I made you,” Drusilla murmured, drawing a razor sharp nail across a bare breast and guiding Faith’s lips to the cut, “But I didn’t do properly. I’ll make it up to you now, my sweet. Mummy will make it better.”
Faith moaned once more, then drank.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 10:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 08:53 pm (UTC)Here you go!
Ignore the Brigitta account *Shifty eyes*
Date: 2009-03-15 09:01 pm (UTC)That was... Gorgeous actually, very poetic and beautiful and it describes Juni very well indeed, as well as a lot of her dynamic with Dru.
So, yes, thank you! That was lovely! *Showers with cookies and things* ...And Juni says that Dru's much better then her real mummy anyway, so she'd be quite happy to call her "mummy" if the need arose ^^
I see nothing :P
Date: 2009-03-15 10:19 pm (UTC)Thank you! It's something I've wanted to write for a while, so I'm quite glad the meme gave me an excuse to finish it up.
She appreciates it. The Buffyverse vampires have the most twisted family relationships of any canon.
Re: I see nothing :P
Date: 2009-03-15 10:38 pm (UTC)They are very twisted already, and I've only seen the first season so far!
no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 11:07 pm (UTC)*shifty eyes*
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Date: 2009-03-16 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-16 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-16 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 08:36 pm (UTC)It was a lot of fun, though. And, since it exceeded comment limits (oops?), here it is.
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Date: 2009-03-15 11:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-16 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 08:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-16 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 06:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-30 06:50 pm (UTC)Better late than never, right?
no subject
Date: 2009-04-06 06:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-30 06:54 pm (UTC)Here you go!