ᴄᴏᴅᴇɴᴀᴍᴇ﹕ ᴍɴᴇᴍᴏɴɪᴄ

His cheeks darkened at the last comment. Ayesha was the one who'd made it into something sus! Not him! He was a good, pure boy who--who was he kidding he would kill for a 'sticky situation' with Mnemonic anytime...

He looked away a little, taking off his glasses and cleaning a smudge off one lens with what looked like a lot of interest and care, and said there's not a lot of people I can rely on like you.

And there was a self-deprecating sort of impulse to reply that maybe he needed better friends, but Ayesha fought it down. Sure, between the engineer with the cool search-and-rescue mech-suit and the creepy psychic it was kind of a no-brainer who had more to offer, but... well, he seemed to really mean it, and it'd be rude to throw that kindness back in his face.

This time, the laugh he gave lacked that hard, bitter note, yet still lacked any humor. "Would that he had one, love."

Dylan had deliberately omitted so many details—there weren't many he wanted to share. They would only hurt Ayesha, anger her further. Neither did he want to retell it. Reliving those centuries was not something he wished to do. Once was enough.

Perhaps it was a fortunate thing his mind had shattered. Nothing but shards of broken memories.

What he did remember—it was too complicated to tell. As much as he loathed his Master's very being, he had loved him just as fiercely. How could he even begin to explain that? He couldn't and so wouldn't.

Dylan took a steadying breath, finally opened his tear-filled eyes, and met hers. "He's gone," he repeated. "I killed him. He killed me too, again." So many deaths he'd endured at his Master's hands, but it was the last one that had nearly permanently ended his long, tortured life.

He dropped his gaze, fingers brushing against a button, shirt opening more to reveal the left side of his chest and shoulder. The scars were still the pink of newly healed flesh. The killing blade had sliced through his shoulder and chest, a long, jagged tear. It spanned across his back, down and at an angle, disappearing under the fabric of his clothing. Ayesha couldn't see them them all, and nor would she if he could help it. They were another reminder, like the demon mark. And like that awful brand, Dylan hid them away.

But not now.

He left his shirt open there, with just the preview of the scarring, much like she had some time ago with her own. A peek.

Behind him, the Shadows darkened and pulsed, crowding in close to him. Protective, just as They had been the night his Master came for him.

"That last time was almost the very end of me." His mouth pulled into a tight smile. "But I lived—he didn't."

That victory, he hated to admit, often felt hollow. He may have killed his Master, secured his freedom, but the elder soultaker had left indelible marks on both his body and mind. He knew in his heart he'd never really be free of him.

Why was she going on like this? Who was she trying to cheer up? Dylan? Because it sure wasn't working. Herself? Yeah, maybe. Trying to find something to in this mess to joke about to keep herself from breaking down too... which wasn't an option. This was about Dylan, not her. She was there to help.

And she couldn't help. The only thing to do about the soul-sickness was let it pass (and then it would happen again, over and over and over and over and—), and even though she now knew there was someone to blame for this happening to Dylan, he was dead and gone. Ayesha couldn't hit him or plead with him to reverse this or anything at all.

He's gone. I killed him. He killed me too, again.

And while Ayesha tried to puzzle out what those last four words meant, exactly (because Dylan was very clearly alive right in front of her), Dylan reached up to undo a button on his shirt, and pulled the collar aside. And underneath... scars slashed into his skin, on the left side, a mirror of where Ayesha had shown him hers. But unlike hers, these looked recent, pink and newly healed.

Connor fidgeted in his seat, for a distressingly new reason than the usual suspects. "Well, you too! Mean a lot. I mean." God, he's fumbled it. He's shitted it. He's shitted it so bad.

Figuratively. Tough to actually see that through the helmet. The point was, she didn't think anything could throw him off. Definitely not this conversation.

It was sweet of him, too, to think there was much she could do for him by sticking around. "'Course I'd do the same for you," Ayesha replied. "I mean, do what I can. Of the two of us, you're the one who's good to have around in a sticky situation."

Daniel only realized he was topless when he felt a bit of a chill.

The mutant skittered over to a chair, pulling on a big, oversized sweater that said 'Senintels Hate Me & Fish Fear Me'. He grinned as he pulled it on, also pressing his shoes into some flip-flops. "Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Professor is the guy for that." Coming down from Zilla Out always made him feel a little 'high'. A big boost of energy as his metabolism adjusted for a smaller, efficient body. "His office is in the other wing, but he's not there today." Daniel approached, grabbing a carton of coconut water and taking a sip. "He's off during the 'Birds and the X-Bees' talk with a new hopeful. He'll be back in the morning, and Xavier House Rules say 'any mutant always has a bed here'."

He also offered to let her stay, at least until Xavier returned. Not, y'know, here, 'cause I live here—

"Oh, no no no, of course not!" she was quick to tell him. "I think I've barged into your space more than enough. Sorry again, by the way. I was just trying to find somebody to ask for directions, and the door was kind of open, and..." She trailed off. Shrugged.

And smiled. "Anyway, that's really kind of you to offer. I'm totally okay to just find a motel to crash at for the night if it's too much trouble, but if you guys have the space... sure!"

Any mutant always has a bed here. She'd never thought of herself as a mutant exactly, but then again she wasn't really sure what she'd be considered. Daniel, though... well, what else would you call shapeshifting into a massive, terrifying reptile but some kind of mutation?

Funny how that form had scared Ayesha half to death, but Daniel himself was... sweet.

@mindxthief

Ayesha's green eyes widened. Oh. "Martin, wait. I, I didn't mean—"

Well, what did she mean? She'd meant, hoped, to make him smile a little. Felt like she'd miscalculated hard.

@mindxthief

Padmé frowned.

“Surely you know how you came to be in this situation? You have no memory of it?” Jedi mind tricks only worked on weak minds, that much she remembered from being around Qui-Gon. She had said her name was Ayesha, well, she certainly didn’t seem weak minded.

Scared, though…

As a very junior staffer, her encounters with Senator Amidala had so far been very few and very brief; this was not the way she'd hoped a longer conversation would come about.

But even if this wasn't ideal, it was important. Not just for her own sake, but maybe for others'. She'd been taken, she was sure, just outside the Senate building, and that location seemed like it mattered. If this was something targeted... that seemed like something the Senator needed to know about. (And surely the Senator was safe to speak to. Ayesha didn't know who might have orchestrated this, but it couldn't possibly have been her.)

"I know I was leaving work, leaving here, but not how I got somewhere else. Just waking up not where I meant to be." A hole in her memory. Drugged, maybe? She couldn't say. "And from there I remember a little, but it fades in and out. I know there was a man there with me once — it sounded like a man, anyway. I never saw his face or anything else, just a black cloak. And the last time I came to, the clearest time when I got out... there was some kind of a guard, but no uniform or insignia on him that could tell me anything."

She closed her eyes for just a moment, and sighed. "I know that isn't very much at all..." I know it sounds hard to believe. Like I made it up. Please believe me—

And Senator Amidala surprised her then: my security detail will look out for the both of us.

"Really? That's... that's extremely kind of you to do. Thank you. I..."

She paused. Should she be saying this? Yes, she decided. You need help, and no help's going to come if you keep this to yourself. Besides, if the Senator was going as far as putting Ayesha under the protection of her personal security detail, wasn't the rest of the truth the very least she could offer in return?

"I, I do know one more thing. What they seem to have done to me," she said after another moment to brace herself, lowering her voice and leaning in closer. "The guard I mentioned before... he found me while I was looking for a way out of that building. Grabbed me. I tried to hit him and, and... something happened. I saw the way to the exit, but... through him, somehow. A route he remembered patrolling."

In her lap, her clasped hands tightened just a bit. She drew them backward, closer in to her torso.

The dragon stepped forward and put his gloved hand against his heart. "Oh, a pleasure to hear of a mortal who has actually researched me." His golden eyes sparked with mirth, although, as always, he wore the smile of a predator. "But you must have heard of my accomplishments, my dear." His smile washed off his face and was replaced by another scowl. "My exile. The taking of my powers."

Mortal, he called her, and Ayesha felt way in over her head. Yeah, she'd done her research, but she'd really thought this would be a matter of maybe chasing some cultists off — worshipers of Chaos, making trouble. That, she could have handled. This, getting up close and personal with a being this ancient and powerful... what in the world was she supposed to do about it?

He stepped closer, a smile on his face and a hand over his heart, and when Ayesha saw that hand encased in a glove she couldn't help but think, Oh, look, we match. (Might have been a little funny if this weren't so nervewracking.)

He watched her, quiet, and his gaze was intense: Ayesha felt like his eyes were boring holes through her. Silence stretched on for a little while...

...and she took a chance on breaking it. "I, I did read about that," she confirmed with a quick nod. Cast out of his pantheon, later imprisoned, all because of a fear of his power. (Not an unsympathetic story, she'd found, in that regard.) "Good to be thorough, right?" Her voice wavered a little as she spoke.

The monster growled, eyes angry, eyes focused. Human like but absent of the common mammalian spark. This was a true giant lizard. And she was laughing at him? Making snappy jokes?? At his expense!! Interloper!! He hissed, hunching a little closer to exhale a hot, reeking breath, a threat.

But Daniel tugged the reins. Common sense had to prevail. She’s looking for the professor. He reminded the monster that was himself. She’s probably as scared as we were. Do we wanna make that worse?

The mutant lizard rumbled. Spines pulled away from the ceiling. His tail shrank. His figure reduced, fair skin gently revealing between blackish scale, then replacing it entirely.

"Hey," Ayesha said gently, putting her hands up — palms out, a gesture of I'm unarmed and I come in peace. "Hey, listen, sorry, I don't want to make any trouble. Just gonna go, yeah? Slowly. No sudden movements."

She braced herself, hoping against hope she wasn't about to get lunged at, and took one slow, cautious step backward.

And she lived through it. Took another step, and...

The creature changed: shrank down, scales and spines retreating into flesh, fangs and claws pulling back into teeth and fingernails. And all of a sudden there was a human standing before Ayesha — maybe her age, maybe a little younger — still in those yellow shorts, which had also shrunk to fit his frame. (Incredible stretch on those things.)

He stumbled a little, recovered himself. Smiled and waved. Introduced himself as Daniel like he hadn't been looking like he was a giant lizard about to eat her a minute before.

Buffy Memes (accepting)