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[perfectblue.livejournal.com]

For the purposes of a conversation happening, Illyria is out by the lake.

It is assumed that this happens, for her, post-Silent Milliways plot, for those attempting to follow along.

Because she is out by the lake in the middle of the night, it's rather unlikely that she's expecting anyone.

So she's just sitting. Like she does sometimes.


[ooc: this is not the entry post you are looking for. she's here for one specific extremely-slowtimed thread only, as both muns are going to bed soon and will be on only sporadically at the same time in the next few days. carry on!]

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[perfectblue.livejournal.com]

Illyria shakes her head.

"No, as far as I know they all survived. The battle was a success, for the most part, on the second try."

She pauses for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

"Time does not work properly in this place. I have been here for a number of months since you -- since the battle occurred in my own time." she says. "I returned to the other timeline thinking that I might be of some use, but." she pauses again, not really wanting to let him know that she'd returned, mainly, in the hopes of saving him. Not wanting him to know that she'd tried and failed.

"But some things, it seems, could not be changed."

[dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com]

Wes is silent for a long while. A soft wind gently laps the waters of the lake against the shore. It's colder out here than he realized.

"No. I suppose some things cannot."

(Please, Wesley. Why can't I stay?)

Then quietly he adds, "But one must always be grateful when someone makes an attempt."

He turns slightly, looking at her. "I know I would be."

(I'm not in love with this thing, Angel But for some reason I need it right now.)

But, with something like this, how can one be sure what one feels? Or who exactly one is feeling about?

[perfectblue.livejournal.com]

It's not cold to her. Or if it is, she doesn't mind. She's not telling which one it is.

"Is it the attempt that matters?" Illyria asks, possibly rhetorically.

(Would you like me to lie to you now?)

[dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com]

"Well..." he replies quietly.

(Yes. Thank you, yes.)

"...I guess I've already confessed my opinion on that question."

For Wes to say anything else would be a lie. And who would know that better than Illyria?

[perfectblue.livejournal.com]

(Be anything. Be blue. Don't be her.)

"Yes." Illyria replies, turning away again. Perhaps misreading him completely. He hadn't wanted that lie, not initially. Perhaps he hated her for it now.

Just as well, really.

[dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com]

He watches her for a moment, misreading her in turn. He should have known, that moment at the end, that remarkable show of compassion... He'd hoped it meant a change in her. But perhaps that hope was premature.

Then Wes laughs silently. 'Premature.' Aren't *we* being optimistic.

He stifles the laugh as quickly as it began. He's shocked to find the madness still there, not buried quite as deep as he thought. He'd hoped it hadn't come with him to this place.

And now his thoughts go back to the things Fred has told him these past few days, as the cold, dark night closes around them. Side-by-side, and millions of miles apart.