Fic: Scorned 4/8
Sep. 15th, 2010 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: Scorned
Series: Lotus in Muddy Water
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Faith, Wesley
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: As she pinned the comb in her hair, whiteness snaked out from the comb, bleaching her hair. She screamed, arching forward as she fell into the sea. Twisting under the waves, she writhed under the water, as if scrabbling for escape. Her hand reached upward but was unable to break through the surface. With a final grimace, she relaxed into the sea's cold embrace. As her feet touched down to the bottom, white locks drifted in the current. The moon drifted across the horizon and was close to setting before she moved again. Her eyes opened and looked up from below the sea.
Notes: Many thanks to my most awesome betas: deird1, for making sure Wesley and Aidan didn't do anything totally unBritish; and diebirchen who is so very patient when I keep making the same grammar errors!
* * *
“Sustiri demons,” Faith said over Wesley's dull drone. Damn, leave it to Watcher-boy to make even demons boring.
“Well, yes, but you could at least let me finish the question.”
“Can I go yet?” she asked, stretching out on the leather chair with a huge yawn to let Wesley know exactly what she thought of his lessons.
“Naturally not,” he replied. “We have quite a bit more material to cover before I can even begin to assess what you've managed to learn from your previous Watcher.”
Managed to learn, Faith thought. Like I'm not smart enough to have picked up any of this stuff. Feigning indifference, Faith strolled over to the one of the bookcase-covered walls and started skimming a finger across the books, as if looking for a specific one.
Wesley shuffled through the books he had scattered across the wooden table, finally picking one up. “Ah, here we are. Now, what do you know about water demons?”
Faith saw a vampire tossing a struggling body into the water where crocodiles were waiting. An arm, severed just below the elbow, bobbed up and down in the waves. “Water demons?” she sneered. “You're shitting me, right?”
Wesley suddenly looked much stuffier in an Aha I'm vindicated kind of a way. “I should have thought Mrs. Burnand would have trained you to fight water-dwelling demons. They can generally move between land and sea, and it's not as though you lived far from the ocean.”
Faith froze and bit her lip. It had been her mistake that had gotten Petra killed. This scumbag had no right to mock her Watcher. “Yeah, well maybe I would have been better off without her help, and maybe I don't need yours either,” she said, storming towards the door.
“Faith,” he exclaimed. “This is for your own good. The more you know about demons, the more effective you'll be against them.” Faith stopped. Her hand, just inches from the doorknob, fell back to her side. Petra's lectures had summed up to the same thing; the more you know, the longer you'll live. Neither she nor Wesley had the guts to put it so straight, but that's what they meant.
“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, as she flopped back down into the chair.
Wesley started lecturing again. “Demons are, as you should know, so ancient that they appear as monsters in folklore, legends, and myths all around the world. In the Babylonian mythology, for example, Tiamat is said to have given birth to dragons, serpents, and mer-people. Tiamatu demons are actually lizard-like in appearance and tend to live in lakes or marshes.” He opened a large greenish volume to show her a drawing. “They are quite shy and tend to avoid humans, but if cornered can be deadly. Their tails are extremely flexible, able to whip around in a flash to attack an opponent. Now the Lotan,” he flipped through a second book, “is described as a seven-headed sea serpent in the Ugaritic myths, which you really should read sometime. Fascinating material.”
Faith rolled her eyes, but Wesley was too engrossed in the tome to notice.
“In reality, they're born with only three-heads, but, much like the Hydra of the Greek myths, when one is cut off, two more grow back in its place. They are almost impossible to kill. Over the centuries seven Slayers have attempted to defeat Lotanic demons. None have survived.”
“Gee, that's helpful,” Faith snarked. If you can't tell me how to kill them, what the hell am I doing here?
Wesley's lips tightened but he continued on. “Genesis mentions the Taninim, which Jastrow translates as sea monsters, crocodiles, or large snakes. Taninim are women who have performed an ancient ritual calling on Be'thatet, a Hell-Goddess, to give them power over someone, usually a lover, who has rejected them. They have the ability to shape-shift into the form of a crocodile, which is the origin of their name.”
Faith shifted uncomfortably in her chair. What the hell do taninim have to do with crocs?
“While they are, like most demons, unnaturally strong, their favored mode of attack is that of the Sirens.” Having no idea what he was talking about, Faith just stared at him. Wesley sighed. “The Sirens? Greek mythology? Their songs drew sailors to their deaths on rocky shorelines?”
“If you say so.” Faith shrugged.
Wesley opened his mouth as if about to comment, but then shook his head and looked over the books on the table. Leafing through another book, he added, “Unfortunately I don't have any depictions although, since they primarily stay in human form, I don't suppose a picture would do you much good anyway. They can be killed, but– Yes, can I help you?”
Aidan stood in the doorway. “I apologize for the interruption, but I need to do an assessment before I can design a training regime. I was planning to do it later, but something has come up, and I won't be available.”
Faith linked her fingers together and stretched her arms outwards. “Good. I need a workout.”
“Yours will be later,” Aidan said. “This is for Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.”
“What?” Wesley sputtered. Faith smirked as she sank back into her chair.
“Obviously if I'm going to train you to backup a Slayer, I'll need to know your current physical capabilities,” Aidan said.
“I assure you, I have been more than adequately trained by the Watchers' Council,” Wesley replied.
“You're not working for the Council now. You're working with me.” Faith heard the unspoken, and you'll do things my way.
Wesley opened and closed his mouth a few times, before angrily gathering up his books. “Fine. Let me change. I'll be down shortly.” His storming out had all the impact of a barely noticed squall.
“You know he's going to call the Council,” Faith said.
“Doesn't matter. They've chosen to play this out. Nothing Mr. Wyndam-Pryce tells them will change that,” Aidan replied.
“How'd you get them to agree to all this?” Faith asked.
“All what?”
“You, working with a slayer. From what I've been told, it's usually a one-on-one thing.”
“You should study more,” Aidan said, grinning as she made a face. “There have been exceptions, over the centuries, although they are rare. Moore's Compendium of Watcher Politics is, shall we say, entertaining. It's cataloged along that wall,” he said, pointing out a bookcase, “third shelf over.” With that, he left Faith alone in the library.
Faith found the book he'd mentioned, flipped through a couple of pages, and took it back to her chair. With a grin, she said, “Damn, these guys were brutal.”
Off to one side behind the house, was an oak that had been old when the country was young. Despite its age, it was sturdy enough that a wooden swing, large enough for three if they squished together, hung by a rope from its branches. As the swing slowed down almost to a rest, Claire's foot kicked off against the ground, starting it up again. “What?” Grace asked as Wesley ran past them carrying a log across his shoulders.
“Uncle Aidan must be testing him,” Claire explained. “He'll run five miles, carrying that log the whole way. When he gets back, Uncle Aidan'll have him doing push-ups and crunches until he can barely stand. Then they'll spar. It's an excellent endurance workout.”
“Ugh,” Grace said, giving Claire a look of disbelief. “And why would you want to be doing all that when you could be enjoying the sun?”
“Come on,” Claire said, grabbing Grace by the arm and chasing after Wesley. “Let's run with him.”
Grace managed to stop her as they approached the thick wall of reeds separating the yard from the beach. “Are you insane? Five miles? You go if you want, but I'm fine here.”
Walking to the far edge of the reeds where she could keep an eye on Wesley, Claire sighed. “I guess I shouldn't interfere.” Spotting Wesley, she said, sounding disappointed, “Hey, he dropped the log.”
“Smart man,” Grace interjected.
“Wait. Why is he walking into the water?” Claire asked.
“Something doesn't feel right.” Grace, who hadn't been watching Wesley, peered around to see. “Who's that woman with him?”
“What woman?”
“What do you mean, what woman?” Grace asked. “He just took her hands.”
“Umm, Grace? There's nobody there, well, besides Wesley that is,” Claire said.
“Holy Mother, she'd dragging him in.”
“Grace?” Claire asked, sounding worried. “What are you seeing? He's just walking in, but he is in awfully deep, up to his hips. Do you think he's OK? Maybe I should check it out.”
“No. Don't,” Grace said with unusual decisiveness.
Claire started running towards Wesley.
“Oh, I'm gonna get in so much trouble for this,” Grace said as she leaned down to pick up a handful of sand. After saying a few words in Latin, she blew the sand into the wind. About a dozen seagulls, scattered above the beach, changed course and started dive bombing the woman. Wesley started flailing his arms around wildly and floundered back to the shore, where he fell to all fours. As Claire knelt down to help him up, Grace scanned the shore for the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. Oh, I don't like this, not at all, Grace thought as she ran over.
“I'm fine, really,” Wesley was saying as Grace joined them. Claire had helped him up and was supporting him on one side, although his legs wobbled, almost dragging both of them down into the sand. Grace took his other arm and helped Claire lead him back to the house, while he insisted, the entire way back, that he was perfectly all right.
“What happened?” Brigit asked as they staggered into the house.
Before Claire could answer, Grace replied. “We're not sure. He just walked straight into the water.”
Brigit felt his forehead. “He is a bit chilled. I'll put him to bed. Go tell your uncle that Wesley won't be training today.”
After Brigit had dragged Wesley up the stairs, Claire said, “We should tell uncle Aidan about the woman you saw.”
“No,” Grace whispered vehemently. “You know I could get in trouble for using magic.”
“But if I couldn't see her and you could, that's got to be supernatural. He'd want to know.”
“We don't know that. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.” Seeing the stubborn look on Claire's face, Grace pulled out the big guns. “Do you want me to be grounded for the whole summer?”
“Well, no, but maybe he wouldn't tell your mother,” Claire replied without conviction.
“Oh, cause there's no way Brigit wouldn't find out, living right here and all.”
Claire looked uncertain, and Grace pushed her advantage. “We keep this to ourselves. Promise?”
“OK,” Claire sighed. “I promise.”
Series: Lotus in Muddy Water
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Faith, Wesley
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: As she pinned the comb in her hair, whiteness snaked out from the comb, bleaching her hair. She screamed, arching forward as she fell into the sea. Twisting under the waves, she writhed under the water, as if scrabbling for escape. Her hand reached upward but was unable to break through the surface. With a final grimace, she relaxed into the sea's cold embrace. As her feet touched down to the bottom, white locks drifted in the current. The moon drifted across the horizon and was close to setting before she moved again. Her eyes opened and looked up from below the sea.
Notes: Many thanks to my most awesome betas: deird1, for making sure Wesley and Aidan didn't do anything totally unBritish; and diebirchen who is so very patient when I keep making the same grammar errors!
“Sustiri demons,” Faith said over Wesley's dull drone. Damn, leave it to Watcher-boy to make even demons boring.
“Well, yes, but you could at least let me finish the question.”
“Can I go yet?” she asked, stretching out on the leather chair with a huge yawn to let Wesley know exactly what she thought of his lessons.
“Naturally not,” he replied. “We have quite a bit more material to cover before I can even begin to assess what you've managed to learn from your previous Watcher.”
Managed to learn, Faith thought. Like I'm not smart enough to have picked up any of this stuff. Feigning indifference, Faith strolled over to the one of the bookcase-covered walls and started skimming a finger across the books, as if looking for a specific one.
Wesley shuffled through the books he had scattered across the wooden table, finally picking one up. “Ah, here we are. Now, what do you know about water demons?”
Faith saw a vampire tossing a struggling body into the water where crocodiles were waiting. An arm, severed just below the elbow, bobbed up and down in the waves. “Water demons?” she sneered. “You're shitting me, right?”
Wesley suddenly looked much stuffier in an Aha I'm vindicated kind of a way. “I should have thought Mrs. Burnand would have trained you to fight water-dwelling demons. They can generally move between land and sea, and it's not as though you lived far from the ocean.”
Faith froze and bit her lip. It had been her mistake that had gotten Petra killed. This scumbag had no right to mock her Watcher. “Yeah, well maybe I would have been better off without her help, and maybe I don't need yours either,” she said, storming towards the door.
“Faith,” he exclaimed. “This is for your own good. The more you know about demons, the more effective you'll be against them.” Faith stopped. Her hand, just inches from the doorknob, fell back to her side. Petra's lectures had summed up to the same thing; the more you know, the longer you'll live. Neither she nor Wesley had the guts to put it so straight, but that's what they meant.
“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, as she flopped back down into the chair.
Wesley started lecturing again. “Demons are, as you should know, so ancient that they appear as monsters in folklore, legends, and myths all around the world. In the Babylonian mythology, for example, Tiamat is said to have given birth to dragons, serpents, and mer-people. Tiamatu demons are actually lizard-like in appearance and tend to live in lakes or marshes.” He opened a large greenish volume to show her a drawing. “They are quite shy and tend to avoid humans, but if cornered can be deadly. Their tails are extremely flexible, able to whip around in a flash to attack an opponent. Now the Lotan,” he flipped through a second book, “is described as a seven-headed sea serpent in the Ugaritic myths, which you really should read sometime. Fascinating material.”
Faith rolled her eyes, but Wesley was too engrossed in the tome to notice.
“In reality, they're born with only three-heads, but, much like the Hydra of the Greek myths, when one is cut off, two more grow back in its place. They are almost impossible to kill. Over the centuries seven Slayers have attempted to defeat Lotanic demons. None have survived.”
“Gee, that's helpful,” Faith snarked. If you can't tell me how to kill them, what the hell am I doing here?
Wesley's lips tightened but he continued on. “Genesis mentions the Taninim, which Jastrow translates as sea monsters, crocodiles, or large snakes. Taninim are women who have performed an ancient ritual calling on Be'thatet, a Hell-Goddess, to give them power over someone, usually a lover, who has rejected them. They have the ability to shape-shift into the form of a crocodile, which is the origin of their name.”
Faith shifted uncomfortably in her chair. What the hell do taninim have to do with crocs?
“While they are, like most demons, unnaturally strong, their favored mode of attack is that of the Sirens.” Having no idea what he was talking about, Faith just stared at him. Wesley sighed. “The Sirens? Greek mythology? Their songs drew sailors to their deaths on rocky shorelines?”
“If you say so.” Faith shrugged.
Wesley opened his mouth as if about to comment, but then shook his head and looked over the books on the table. Leafing through another book, he added, “Unfortunately I don't have any depictions although, since they primarily stay in human form, I don't suppose a picture would do you much good anyway. They can be killed, but– Yes, can I help you?”
Aidan stood in the doorway. “I apologize for the interruption, but I need to do an assessment before I can design a training regime. I was planning to do it later, but something has come up, and I won't be available.”
Faith linked her fingers together and stretched her arms outwards. “Good. I need a workout.”
“Yours will be later,” Aidan said. “This is for Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.”
“What?” Wesley sputtered. Faith smirked as she sank back into her chair.
“Obviously if I'm going to train you to backup a Slayer, I'll need to know your current physical capabilities,” Aidan said.
“I assure you, I have been more than adequately trained by the Watchers' Council,” Wesley replied.
“You're not working for the Council now. You're working with me.” Faith heard the unspoken, and you'll do things my way.
Wesley opened and closed his mouth a few times, before angrily gathering up his books. “Fine. Let me change. I'll be down shortly.” His storming out had all the impact of a barely noticed squall.
“You know he's going to call the Council,” Faith said.
“Doesn't matter. They've chosen to play this out. Nothing Mr. Wyndam-Pryce tells them will change that,” Aidan replied.
“How'd you get them to agree to all this?” Faith asked.
“All what?”
“You, working with a slayer. From what I've been told, it's usually a one-on-one thing.”
“You should study more,” Aidan said, grinning as she made a face. “There have been exceptions, over the centuries, although they are rare. Moore's Compendium of Watcher Politics is, shall we say, entertaining. It's cataloged along that wall,” he said, pointing out a bookcase, “third shelf over.” With that, he left Faith alone in the library.
Faith found the book he'd mentioned, flipped through a couple of pages, and took it back to her chair. With a grin, she said, “Damn, these guys were brutal.”
* * *
Off to one side behind the house, was an oak that had been old when the country was young. Despite its age, it was sturdy enough that a wooden swing, large enough for three if they squished together, hung by a rope from its branches. As the swing slowed down almost to a rest, Claire's foot kicked off against the ground, starting it up again. “What?” Grace asked as Wesley ran past them carrying a log across his shoulders.
“Uncle Aidan must be testing him,” Claire explained. “He'll run five miles, carrying that log the whole way. When he gets back, Uncle Aidan'll have him doing push-ups and crunches until he can barely stand. Then they'll spar. It's an excellent endurance workout.”
“Ugh,” Grace said, giving Claire a look of disbelief. “And why would you want to be doing all that when you could be enjoying the sun?”
“Come on,” Claire said, grabbing Grace by the arm and chasing after Wesley. “Let's run with him.”
Grace managed to stop her as they approached the thick wall of reeds separating the yard from the beach. “Are you insane? Five miles? You go if you want, but I'm fine here.”
Walking to the far edge of the reeds where she could keep an eye on Wesley, Claire sighed. “I guess I shouldn't interfere.” Spotting Wesley, she said, sounding disappointed, “Hey, he dropped the log.”
“Smart man,” Grace interjected.
“Wait. Why is he walking into the water?” Claire asked.
“Something doesn't feel right.” Grace, who hadn't been watching Wesley, peered around to see. “Who's that woman with him?”
“What woman?”
“What do you mean, what woman?” Grace asked. “He just took her hands.”
“Umm, Grace? There's nobody there, well, besides Wesley that is,” Claire said.
“Holy Mother, she'd dragging him in.”
“Grace?” Claire asked, sounding worried. “What are you seeing? He's just walking in, but he is in awfully deep, up to his hips. Do you think he's OK? Maybe I should check it out.”
“No. Don't,” Grace said with unusual decisiveness.
Claire started running towards Wesley.
“Oh, I'm gonna get in so much trouble for this,” Grace said as she leaned down to pick up a handful of sand. After saying a few words in Latin, she blew the sand into the wind. About a dozen seagulls, scattered above the beach, changed course and started dive bombing the woman. Wesley started flailing his arms around wildly and floundered back to the shore, where he fell to all fours. As Claire knelt down to help him up, Grace scanned the shore for the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. Oh, I don't like this, not at all, Grace thought as she ran over.
“I'm fine, really,” Wesley was saying as Grace joined them. Claire had helped him up and was supporting him on one side, although his legs wobbled, almost dragging both of them down into the sand. Grace took his other arm and helped Claire lead him back to the house, while he insisted, the entire way back, that he was perfectly all right.
“What happened?” Brigit asked as they staggered into the house.
Before Claire could answer, Grace replied. “We're not sure. He just walked straight into the water.”
Brigit felt his forehead. “He is a bit chilled. I'll put him to bed. Go tell your uncle that Wesley won't be training today.”
After Brigit had dragged Wesley up the stairs, Claire said, “We should tell uncle Aidan about the woman you saw.”
“No,” Grace whispered vehemently. “You know I could get in trouble for using magic.”
“But if I couldn't see her and you could, that's got to be supernatural. He'd want to know.”
“We don't know that. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.” Seeing the stubborn look on Claire's face, Grace pulled out the big guns. “Do you want me to be grounded for the whole summer?”
“Well, no, but maybe he wouldn't tell your mother,” Claire replied without conviction.
“Oh, cause there's no way Brigit wouldn't find out, living right here and all.”
Claire looked uncertain, and Grace pushed her advantage. “We keep this to ourselves. Promise?”
“OK,” Claire sighed. “I promise.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-16 01:40 am (UTC)I'm wondering who isn't keeping secrets at this point! It'd be a much shorter list. Actually it would be an empty queue. ;-)
I'm trying to be true to Faith in the series, but I just can't make her a complete idiot. That's going to be a tough line to walk.
Don't worry. Ages and ages until I kill Faith.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-16 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-16 02:19 am (UTC)If I knew the grammar rules, I could write better though, which reminds me... Off to order a grammar book.