prodigalwatcher: (Sad Slouch)
119 - "I admire his head of wisdom, but I'm not in love with him." - 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'

He often wondered how she saw him.

Wesley, of course, had a very firm and concrete impression of Fred in his mind, and it was an image that had never really been altered, no matter what had occurred since they'd first met. To him, she was peerless, but not flawless. He believed he was enough of a realist to understand that even Fred was a human being, as subject to foibles and frailties as the next person. But even then, he saw her flaws as the aspects that made her unique or as the reasons she would need someone like him to be at her side.

To say he had placed Fred on a pedestal was an understatement. Even without his warmer feelings toward the woman, Wesley would have been in awe of her intellect, especially in his efforts to understand the world of physics and science that had once been such a part of her existence. In his eyes, she was beautiful beyond compare, loyal and loving with a heart as big as her home state and more worthy of being loved than any other person he had ever met.

He wondered about her perception of him much less after the night at the ballet.

Wesley understood. He was a friend. A good man, perhaps even a good friend. To Fred, he was someone who could be counted on, the one with whom she was so often relegated with to research duty and the friend who would always be there to listen.

The downside, though, was just as clear. To her, Wesley held no excitement, no interest beyond the bounds of friendship. There was a line, and no matter how Wesley politely and respectfully maintained himself right on it, Fred would never conceive of him crossing it.

A smile, a laugh, and Wesley could see himself through her eyes when they stood close. It broke his heart just a little every time, but he comforted himself with the notion that, at the least, she was there to do so.

prodigalwatcher: (Get What We Deserve)
264 - "The past is never dead. It's not even past." William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun.

When one deals with beings possessed of such long lives as vampires and demons, then one develops a different kind of respect for the past, as it comes back to haunt people in much more direct and deadly ways. A person's past is a part of them, impossible to be freed from, like one's own shadow.

Recurrent )

prodigalwatcher: (Sidelong Glance)
The happiest of birthdays.

All my... best,

prodigalwatcher: (All Alone in the Night)
79 - "I shall love her until the day I die. That's the tragedy." - 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

Oh, what a question.

Every step of the way in my life, I had struggled to live up to an ideal, something that had been ingrained into my thinking since childhood: do what is right. Sometimes that meant just, and sometimes it meant fair, and sometimes it meant heartless or calculating or even cruel. Almost never did it mean convenient, or easy or pleasing. Only right.

When I discovered, to my horror, Illyria's uncanny ability to mimic Fred, there was no question at all what the right thing to do was. Even if she had only been able to produce a likeness of Fred Burkle, it would have been unacceptable, but the impersonation-- no, the transformation was so complete and terrifyingly accurate that it pulled at every nerve in my body. I forbade her to ever change that way again.

Did it dishonour the memory of her? Yes. Was it a falsehood and deception? Yes.

But those were not the true reasons I told Illyria to "be blue". It was because I could not stand to have her back and know she would only vanish again. I was not a strong enough man to resist temptation. I would ask her to lie, again and again, and somehow, I knew Illyria would do so at my behest.

It was the right thing to do, forbidding the lie.

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

I was no longer a living man, facing the remainder of my days as guide and companion to the fallen god-king. I was no longer the former Watcher, the former hunter, the former prodigal son, the former would-be Champion. I was dying, my final mission ending in failure. There was nothing of me left.

I had sinned too greatly to believe there was much left for me on the other side. So why not complete my fall? Why not choose the wrong thing?

Would it be so bad, I asked myself, here at the end?

I would be selfish. I would take what I could from the world before I left it.

I had been wrong about so many things in my life, this one last act seemed a trifle.

The wrong thing to do.

"Would you like me to lie to you now?"

"Yes... Thank you, yes..."

(361, not including direct quotes)
prodigalwatcher: (Wes| Empty Apartment)
August 2008 - What do you think about or do when you can't sleep?

Insomnia happens a great deal in this line of work. So much of what I do occurs, by necessity, at night and yet there is always research and preparation to be done during the daylight hours that it can often wreak complete havoc with a person's circadian rhythms. So, I am not unfamiliar with the situation, and am usually prepared for it.

Most often, I read. Despite their antiquity, the reference books that I've gathered over the years often provide new insights into cases at hand, or refresh my memory so that necessary information can be called upon more quickly and effectively. I am also making new acquisitions all the time, and those must also be read, notes taken and conclusions drawn. In fact, I am currently engrossed in a first edition of Tolbein's Spirit Guide.

Other times, work is the last thing I want to occupy my mind. In that case, a glass of wine and silence will suffice. Friends have called it brooding. I simply consider it a necessary rumination and relaxation.

On occasion in the recent past, though, I have been known to make a phone call to a certain lady friend with similar working hours who is also sometimes afflicted with insomnia. That is perhaps now my favorite sleepless night pastime, and one only a concern for her own ability to sleep prevents me from repeating it more often.


"This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past." -Agathon

Now, we know that's not true, at least in a sense. With a powerful spell anchored to an artifact known as a Window of Orlon, the sorceror Cyvus Vail was able to remake the past according to the designs of Angel and Wolfram and Hart-- or rather, he was able to restructure the memories of nearly every man, woman and child on Earth.

Yes, for the great majority of people, the changes were minor. None of them would remember the entity called Jasmine or the few bittersweet days of utter peace and contentment that she brought to the world, at the horrible price that was paid. But for those of us in Angel's circle, the task was mighty. We were made to forget one of our own family, Angel's son Connor-- forget every trace of his existence.

I was the one who destroyed the illusion, for that was all it was-- an illusion. Connor had lived, had fought against and beside us, had lived a life of anger and frustration and had nearly gone mad.

On sleepless nights, I sometimes wonder what I would do with a Window of Orlon. Would I force myself to forget my life as a Watcher, and insist I have always been the man I am now? Should I erase all trace of the people we've lost, that I've lost? Could I bring myself to undo all that Fred Burkle was, so that I might look upon Illyria as a being unique?

The answer is no. Even with all that power, what is past could only be covered up or forgotten, but never undone.


OOC: These are canon and fanon-based responses.
prodigalwatcher: (Behind Blue Eyes)
242 - Write about a time that you were the bearer of bad news.

It was my job at Angel Investigations to serve as the discoverer, keeper and disseminator of important information. Cordelia used to call me "plot exposition", particularly while in preparations for yet another audition, and it was an apt enough description. And more often than not, the news I had to bring to the table was of a less-than-welcome nature.

One particular instance, though, stands out.

Black Tie and Bad News )

prodigalwatcher: (All Alone in the Night)
59 - "I cannot live without my life! I cannot die without my soul."
60 - "Why are your eyes always empty?"

"Why are your eyes always empty?"

I laughed at her; laughed in the face of the mighty god-king with the power to squash me like an insect underfoot, laughed until I was hoarse, not that it was a long ways away considering the copious amounts of Lagavulin I had been imbibing in the last few days. Scotch burned at my throat even more effectively than it burned at my mind and dulled the pain.

It occurred to me that I had not laughed since I stood at the top of the lobby stairs, listening to "You Are My Sunshine", sung sweetly if just the slightest touch flat.

Hollow man )

prodigalwatcher: (What You Have To Do)
57 - "... accept our failures, as well as our successes, with quiet dignity and grace." - 'Young Frankenstein'

All I really wanted was to be left alone.

Cold Comfort )

(364, not counting direct quotes)

OOC Note: This is a canon-based response, and does not necessarily reflect any muse version of these characters.
prodigalwatcher: (Sidelong Glance)
42 - "Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death?" - 'It's a Wonderful Life'

As it turns out, I am quite terrible at understanding the more subtle and polite signals that might be exchanged during flirtations. Apparently, it is not uncommon for a female to indicate her interest-- or at the least her openness to the possibility of having an interest-- through ways that do not involve stating that fact openly and plainly.

Of course, considering that I myself never initiated such straightforward dialogue with said young woman, even when there was not any sort of impediment, I have very little ground on which to stand and protest. I am, or rather, I was quite oblivious. My only possible defense is to state that by the time such interest was being communicated to me, it was a situation I had long before written off as an impossibility.

In retrospect, the signs were there. Small, casually intimate gestures were exchanged, like shared cups of coffee and certain excuses were made for the sole purpose of providing opportunities to be together. Clearly, I had become so completely resigned to the status quo that I had blinded myself to the chance things might change.

So the girl had to kiss me so that I'd finally get the message.

I rarely enjoy being incorrect. But I made an exception.

prodigalwatcher: (Weapon | Shotgun | Raised and aimed)
208 - Four

OOC: Shamelessly stolen from Inspired by the #208 prompts by [ profile] queenemma!mun

Traditionally, demons and vampires and other supernatural creatures have been fought with traditional weaponry. Blades and bows, wood and steel against their fangs and claws. Whether this is a case of their visceral, mystical strength being met with the base ability of humanity-- tools and muscle-- or whether it is simply just the way things have been done, it is rare for those in that business to employ the modern tools of war.

Four people Wesley has shot )

prodigalwatcher: (Redemption)
39 - "That's all he ever wanted out of life... was love." - 'Citizen Kane'

Wesley wrote two letters on the day he died. While Illyria rested in Spike's apartment, he posted the first. The second, he burned.

A love that accepts. A love that adores. )

prodigalwatcher: (Weapon | Shotgun | Raised and aimed)
21 - "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." - 'Gone With the Wind'

It was an unthinkable situation, one in which no sane person could ever have possibly imagined themselves. The world made no sense, had gone mad. Is it then any surprise that I behaved like a madman?

Mad dogs and Englishmen )



prodigalwatcher: (Default)
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

February 2014

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