Notes: I've wanted to post this Illyria drabble for a few days now and luckily things seem to be working properly. I find Illyria such an intriguing character and I find her dynamic with Wesley to be…engaging to say the least. There are spoilers for "A Hole In The World" and "Shells," respectively. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Angel: The Series is property of Joss Whedon and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended.
Shadows
By Frozen Phoenix
I am bound to a form that is not mine. A primitive shell, this Winifred Burkle. Yet despite her frailness, she sought to delay my coming. My ordained return into the world that was to be my kingdom.
But it is my world no longer. My army has followed the path of my brethren,
falling into nothing more than dust. Even my acolytes have become presumptuous
and few.
This world is now ruled by humans, by deceivers and fools. Hardly worth
consideration or a sample of my power. Nonetheless, there are those who still
fight for the weaker race. Who would have given their lives to try to vanquish
me.
When first I re-entered this world, I knew nothing of its present workings. I
only bore the memories of what was, now, what had been. And then he brought
forth the realization, the truth that my kind and our power had been long
forgotten.
He thought the knowledge would dissuade me, that I would depart and return the
shell to her former condition. Wesley…grieved for her as humans often do. The
sight of such wretched emotion was as deplorable to me as my imprisonment and
that it might be everywhere, in all humans…
I cannot stop it. I cannot return the world to what it was, what it should be.
I defeated two warriors with little effort and yet am now confined to this new
form of constriction. Merely a flicker of the grandeur that existed once in a
place where belief is sacred no longer.
The passing of time is commanded by my will and I feel that it is changing me.
Fragments, flashes of memories that are not mine have begun to confuse me.
Touches never before felt, sorrow I could not have been given, haunt me. The
electrical impulses Winifred Burkle's mind transmitted, have become a part of
me.
It is due to that fact alone that I sought out Wesley. He slew my Qua'Ha Xahn and
to exist in this world, I must learn. I wear the face of the one he grieves for
and carry her memories. He grasps at echoes and I create them. His reactions
are intriguing ones.
Flickers of horror and shame cross his features, but his voice is alight with
yearning. At the sound of his name, an electrical burst of a treasured moment,
he closes his eyes. Perhaps to convince himself that it is truly she he is
hearing and that my touch is hers as well.
This is charade is of no consequence to me. Wesley is of great use, with the
loyalty to match any of my priests long ago. I resurrect the past and he
constructs this future. A balance does exist…for this time. I may soon test the
extent of his devotion and I ponder if he is weak enough to give in.
He spoke of losing his world, just as I have. Yet I return it to him, though only briefly. Will I now become his world as his desire for an impossible reunion with the shell envelops him completely? Perhaps the answer shall be revealed to me in time.