![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
More re-watch...
Hello! I'm still here, just in lurker mode. Hopefully I'll get round to a 'proper' update at some point!
Our S1 re-watch is continuing - don't have much to say about 'The Pack' except NB is very good and the big difference between Hyena!Xander and ordinary being-a-jackass-Xander lies in the fact that Xander can do/say awful things, but they're usually in reaction to something else or he's lashing out because he's hurting. Xander doesn't do calculated cruelty.
Watched 'Angel' last night and DB must have been getting some acting lessons, because he's very watchable. And of course Darla finally gets interesting before they kill her off... (how I love this 'verse where characters never stay dead!). Not many thoughts, but what there were decided to turn into a little 250 word drabble set near the end (sort of a FitB I suppose, not that anything happens):
Dust
He killed her.
His goddess; his mentor; his perfect mistress for 150 years... she exploded into dust and scattered over the dance floor of a small-town club and his demon howled.
Silently he walked out of The Bronze, with only the briefest of glances over his shoulder. His mind was too crowded with memories for him to speak with anyone living.
Many, many years ago Angel killed his mother, delighting in the look of pure terror before he tore out her throat. His mother had given him life, a life he had squandered, never understanding what a fool he was. When his soul had been returned, her face was the first he remembered and he’d felt sick at what he had done; guilt choking him for a century.
And now... now he had killed his Sire - the woman who had given him unlife. His Darla who had taught him everything - who had been his everything from the beginning. And now she was dust. Because of a young girl with fearlessness in her eyes.
The Slayer inspired feelings in him that he had never known before - he thought it might be love. He didn’t understand it, but knew that it was dangerous, because death followed him.
Angel had finally made his choice - going against his nature, his family, his fears - and he no longer had blood on his hands; only dust. And after everything, he discovered that Darla had one last lesson to impart, as surprising as it was acute.
Grief.
Our S1 re-watch is continuing - don't have much to say about 'The Pack' except NB is very good and the big difference between Hyena!Xander and ordinary being-a-jackass-Xander lies in the fact that Xander can do/say awful things, but they're usually in reaction to something else or he's lashing out because he's hurting. Xander doesn't do calculated cruelty.
Watched 'Angel' last night and DB must have been getting some acting lessons, because he's very watchable. And of course Darla finally gets interesting before they kill her off... (how I love this 'verse where characters never stay dead!). Not many thoughts, but what there were decided to turn into a little 250 word drabble set near the end (sort of a FitB I suppose, not that anything happens):
Dust
He killed her.
His goddess; his mentor; his perfect mistress for 150 years... she exploded into dust and scattered over the dance floor of a small-town club and his demon howled.
Silently he walked out of The Bronze, with only the briefest of glances over his shoulder. His mind was too crowded with memories for him to speak with anyone living.
Many, many years ago Angel killed his mother, delighting in the look of pure terror before he tore out her throat. His mother had given him life, a life he had squandered, never understanding what a fool he was. When his soul had been returned, her face was the first he remembered and he’d felt sick at what he had done; guilt choking him for a century.
And now... now he had killed his Sire - the woman who had given him unlife. His Darla who had taught him everything - who had been his everything from the beginning. And now she was dust. Because of a young girl with fearlessness in her eyes.
The Slayer inspired feelings in him that he had never known before - he thought it might be love. He didn’t understand it, but knew that it was dangerous, because death followed him.
Angel had finally made his choice - going against his nature, his family, his fears - and he no longer had blood on his hands; only dust. And after everything, he discovered that Darla had one last lesson to impart, as surprising as it was acute.
Grief.