milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Wesley Wyndham-Pryce is outside, a short distance away from the lake. He's found a clear patch of ground and has marked several arcane symbols on it. Candles are set at compass points--or at least where they would be if Wesley was trying this anywhere within light years of Earth.

That may account for the distinct lack of enthusiasm he's showing as he goes about the preparations for his ritual. He doubts he has any chance at all of determining where Illyria has been these past few weeks. But pointless as this spell is, it's time-consuming and difficult, and that at least has helped a couple of days go by.

Once again, being in Milliways is only making something more difficult. He really is starting to wonder how much longer he'll be able to keep mustering the extra effort required for doing almost anything in this place.

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X-23's stride is noiseless, but her eyes are drawn to the light from Wesley's candles.

The odd markings he's using are also intriguing, which may be why she stops just outside the circle of candlelight and crouches down to watch.

She could just sit here for hours. It's hardly taxing.

With the candles lit, it's now time to prepare the center of the circle. Wesley sets an atlas of the Earth from 2007 right in the middle, then uses a tarry substance to trace an arcane symbol on it.

That done, he looks at all the symbols, making sure he hasn't made a mistake. That takes several minutes.

After the fourth he speaks, just loud enough for X-23 to hear, even though he hasn't looked in her direction once.

"If you're wondering, it's intended to be a ritual of location."

She shifts a little closer, maybe so she doesn't need to speak so loudly.

If she chooses to speak at all.

"For?"

"For finding someone who usually dislikes being found."

Which was certainly true. Illyria rarely took kindly to others meddling in her affairs. Especially if they thought they were doing it out of concern for her.

Of course, Wesley is far from prepared to admit that might be his reason.

"Oh."

She goes quiet again, considering this. It is, after all, a subject rather near to her own interests.

"Will you hurt them?"

Wesley turns to look at her with a wry smile.

"It wouldn't end well for me if I tried."

"But as it happens, I'm hoping to help her. And that will probably be worse."

"Good."

She sounds extremely certain of that.

Perhaps almost disturbingly so.

Wesley looks at her curiously, and not a little suspiciously.

"Why? Would that make a difference to you?"

It's so rare these days for Wesley to find someone concerned about others, the sentiment--if that's what it is--tends to make him suspicious.

She hasn't looked away from him yet.

"Yes."

She isn't lying.

Wesley isn't looking away either. He's had a fair amount of practice at this. In the life of a Watcher, there were far too many things one daren't take one's eyes off. If one did, it would be the very last mistake one made.

But after a moment, Wesley concludes this is someone who could pose such a threat, but isn't at the moment. Or perhaps his survival instinct has ebbed just as severely as Illyria suspects.

In any case, Wesley nods, "Good," and turns to set a small compass at a particular location on the symbol marking the atlas.

She slides a little closer, but not much.

It gives her a better vantage point, though.

"You are not a mutant."

He doesn't smell right, not for that.

Wesley does look back at her for that.

"I beg your pardon?"

She just looks at him, then at what he's doing, and then back at him again.

"A mutant. You are not one."

Wesley shakes his head.

"No. Afraid not. Dead, though. If that counts for anything."

Despite himself, Wesley might be just the slightest bit amused.

Dead?

She tilts her chin up, sniffing the air.

Oh. So that is what that smell is.

"Oh."

She pauses again, just looking at him.

"Your smell is strange."

"Well," Wesley pauses, straightening up for a moment and gazing out at the lake. "I can't say I hear that too often."

...and then goes back to his preparations.

Oddly enough, he seems less offended than most others might. But then Wesley has become accustomed to odder (and less tactful) company than most.

X-23 neither responds to his statement, nor moves away.

It is rare she has the opportunity to watch a dead man do something as odd as this.

Maybe she'll learn something.

She might at that. Wesley does seem to know what he's doing. He makes a last few arrangements to the items within the circle and then sits, legs-crossed, at the center with the atlas before him.

He closes his eyes and begins what sounds like a very complex chant. The candles flare as sweat breaks out on his forehead. He seems to be concentrating very hard.

After a few minutes of that, Wesley abruptly stops chanting, and as if sleepwalking, opens the atlas and drops a small stone on the upturned page.

As the stone hits the ground, Wesley's trance breaks, and he looks down to see--.

"Dammit," he says quietly.

The atlas opened onto a map of the entire United States. And the stone has slipped off the page altogether, to rest on the bare ground. Either Illyria is somewhere in the depths of the Pacific, or her whereabouts cannot be tracked from Milliways.

Wesley's disappointment is obvious.

X can do nothing about his disappointment.

She stays looking at the map and the stone for a few more moments, then shifts her attention to Wesley's face.

"They are from Earth?"

"Yes," he says quietly. Then louder, repeats, "Yes."

"One of them in particular. She went back to our world to find... a friend."

She studies him for another few moments.

"You are not a very good tracker."

"No," he agrees. "Not from here, anyway."

He gestures at the circle. "Normally this is extremely dependable. But here, at the End of the Universe...."

He shrugs slightly. "...One has to make allowances."

With any hope of finding Illyria dashed, at least for the moment, he finally turns to her. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Wesley. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."

"Then go there."

It seems obvious to her.

She settles more comfortably in her crouch, still watching him.

"I am X-23."

Wesley nods. "Pleased to meet you." Manners are deeply instilled when you go to the Watchers' Academy, no matter what might happen to you after.

"I would--well, I might--if I could. But the price of being dead and Bound to this place is that you may never go back to your world."

She studies him carefully. If she were anyone else, her brow would be furrowed in thought.

"Some people are not dead."

"Ye-es. One can be Bound, regardless of whether one is alive or dead. Apparently, it's all up to the whim of the Landlord, the being who rules this place."

X goes tense again.

"Someone traps people here."

She does not sound pleased about that.

"Yes. I gather the length of time varies, and at least in the case of the living, the person is eventually allowed to leave. As for the dead, well, their end is probably more final."

Wesley starts to break down the circle as he says that. Best not to dwell on the thought too much. Not because he fears it, but rather because he can feel a certain pull toward it.

She shrugs again.

"Sometimes."

X-men have a habit of coming back.

So does X-23 herself.

"Yes, true enough."

Wesley's expression darkens even more. Death wasn't actually all that final back on his world either. Given the number of beings he knew who had come back from it, to not be allowed to do the same was just another slap in the face.

He might be used to that sort of thing by now, but that didn't make the consequences any easier to 'live' with.

X-23 does not quite frown.

"You have died more than once?"

"No. Only the one time. But I know many--." He chokes for a moment.

"I know many people who have."

X stays silent for a few moments, watching him.

Then--

"People die."

She knows that very well.

Wesley glances at her sharply, but seeing that her comment was not at all intended as a joke, he nods.

"Yes, they do."

He finishes collecting the last of the items from the circle, and draws shut the small bag he put them into. Then takes a few seconds to erase the last traces of the circle itself before standing quietly again.

"I think I'm going to go rest now."

She nods once, accepting that.

X-23 is also aware that she makes people uncomfortable, though Wesley does not quite seem to be one of those.

"You do not need help?"

"No."

"...But, thank you."

He starts to walk away, back to the bar, but pauses to look back over his shoulder toward--though not precisely at--her. "You're not exactly catching me at my best. I hope we have a chance to talk again."

And with that he heads back for his room.

She would not mind that, either--difficult as that might be to tell from her demeanor.

As it is, she spends the next little while investigating where the circle used to be.

Just to be thorough, of course.

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