pylea | i build a house for your bones;

insert eyeroll here
angel |

singswithstars | season three | au
the one where darla is given a third chance and dru becomes a mummy. again.

No good deed ever goes quite unpunished. And for Darla, the punishments just seem to keep on giving.

She wakes, coming to, not quite in the alley she died in. Everything is quite blurry; her memory, the facts, what she's seeing.

She pushes herself up slightly, finding herself lying flat on her back. Resting against her elbows, she looks around. The last time she awoke, it was from underneath the earth in a greenhouse. She can't quite say that pleased her, but she's thankful for what Drusilla did for her - even though she'll never quite say it.

The thought that this was merely an illusion - something that perhaps happens when you're dead - flutters across her mind and she waits for it to disperse. Darla's never had quite the run in good luck. If she's dead - and this is ... most definitely not heaven - then she's expecting flames and nothing that feels solidly connected to home.

She comes plummeting back to earth when she sees Drusilla.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Papa's left the roost - all the little chicks weep and cry and momma hen pines, but he won't be home. [ Her voice is quiet and hitched, like a little girl on the verge of tears. Dru rubs the side of her face against Darla's shoulder, slim, cold hands bunched in the fabric of her shirt as she babbles sorrowfully. ] Moons and moons and never will he be home.

[ Out of touch as Drusilla may seem, she knows and understands the state of things - the four of them, the Whirlwind, are all scattered to far corners. Dru's precious family, all that created her, and she feels like just a relic of the past, a broken, forgotten doll left behind in the attic. So she'll cling to them, attempt to force them back together, knowing it's likely futile, but if Drusilla is good at anything, it's replacing the parts of reality she has no taste for with her own.

She twirls a lock of Darla's hair between her fingers, still burrowed into her shoulder, and speaks with a bit of a pout in her voice. ]

We'll bring them back, Grandmum. Our Lost Boys. We must remind them of Never Never Land and all our pretty dreams. All our lovely adventures.

[ Darla's going to continue to sulk. She doesn't push Dru away because she's the only one who really wants her. Spike's nowhere to be found. Angel's a lost cause. Despite how hard she is to keep on the ball, Dru is all Darla has. And, honestly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

She won't admit to that, of course. ]

We can't have adventures if I have a soul.

[ It's the most disgusting thing since finding out Angel had feelings for the Slayer. She doesn't like how she feels at all. The mayhem and destruction they wreaked on towns and individuals will now be hindered by her concious. She doesn't know how Angelus dealt with this horrible feeling of being suffocated, let alone make peace with it. ]

It won't be like how it was before, Dru. Too much has changed. [ Angel. Spike. Dru. Darla herself. The times. They have a Slayer who won't die and also a vampire who can't decide whether to stay permanently dusted. ]

[ Darla may soon want to start pushing Dru away, because as the whole 'soul' topic is brought up, voice drops a bit and the predator she is starts to show a tad, inching closer than is likely comfortable. ]

That's what I'm here for, Grandmum. [ Spoken in a sugary-sweet tone, almost soothing ] I can make that nasty soul go right away. Pluck it right out, like a splinter.

[ The head on her shoulder begins to slide closer to Darla's neck, vision very pointedly focused on the vein there as a nail goes from her hair to drag across the side of it. She wants to help, Grandmammy, really, she does. ]

Nonsense, love. We'll make it be like before. Our precious little dollhouse, walls and floors all ruby read with sweet, shrill music and creaky shadows lurking in the attic.

You're forgetting one thing. [ darla deadpans. even while she stinks of humanity and is in possession of a soul, she still manages to lacquer her voice with a monotone for drusilla. but it has a sliver of exhaustion coating it. darla wants it all; the dollhouse to be hers and attainable, and that splinter to be removed right from her ribcage. but she can feel it wrapping around her bones tightly, not wanting to let go, and she feels herself drowning in a sea of guilt. ]

There's a soul in the attic, Dru. There's no guarantee that it will disappear if I'm reunited with who I once was.

[ such a pessimistic, darla is, when all she is is optimistic that her darling boy will reunite with her once again. humanity stinks. literally. ]

i build a house for your bones;

A MILLION YEARS LATER, A TAG ;;

/CRADLES ♥ my life is so beautiful now ;;

ANOTHER CENTURY PASSES

TWO CENTURIES PASS HERE. think you can beat that?