#softirishwhispers

Her hands are bound, and the mere sensation of it gives rise to a series of memories, each one so deliciously vivid that she's quite certain that she's not meant to be having such memories at the moment.

"I have a surprise for you," a beloved voice in her ear whispers, and the mere fact that she would attribute the adjective beloved to this voice is special in and of itself because she has never found anything in this whole wide universe to call beloved.

Before now.

They walk down steps.

The skin of her fingertips traces scratches in the wall. her heart discerns that this is somewhere that people don't want to go. Her nose smells iron, tin... blood.

And that scent fills her with anticipation, because how many surprises can he have organised that could have this many tactile delight - the gentle tinge of mould on the edge of the sharp blood. 

They walk lower, and lower, and the Rani feels her heart-rate increase, because, well, what's allowed to happen way underground? Things that wouldn't be previously allowed in polite society, that's what.

Fallen Angel: My character switches sides and is confronted by yours.

Sherlock eyed his nemesis from the far side of the TARDIS console.  Of all the strange things he’d seen since being kidnapped by an alien (and that phrase by itself said a great deal about how his day was going), he thought this might be the one he had the hardest time accepting.

What are you up to, Moriarty?  What's your plan this time?  The criminal seemed to be a step ahead of him today, and Sherlock's mind raced, trying to catch up, to get the lead again.

Jim was smiling, saying something to John about how they were all humans, after all, sharing a planet, might as well work on the side of the angels this time.  He gave Sherlock a slight smirk at that, when the alien woman couldn't see him.  Sherlock sneered in response.

"I don't know what you're up to yet," he hissed.  "But I will find out."

Babe: My character flirts with yours.

[I might be tying this in with this prompt you wrote me a while back. I might also be using a fairly loose definition of flirting.]

"I think…heh..think you might be a little…drunkish."

To be honest, Jo was a skip, a hop, a long train ride, and most of a bottle and a half of whiskey away from sober herself.  It was entirely possible that challenging Jim to a drinking contest had been a bad idea.  Maybe.  She ought to be drinking water, right?  Otherwise she was going to be hung over.  Seb ought to bring her water.

Oh. Apparently she'd managed to lose Sebastian.  She vaguely thought she remembered him saying something about getting the car, but that had been so long ago!

"Jiiiim," she said, leaning on him despondently.  "I lost my man-candy."

"I lost my girlfriend," Jim replied, not quite managing to raise an eyebrow at the phrase 'man-candy.'  His face didn't quite seem to be cooperating with him.

Jo gave Jim a solemn look, and poked him in the chest.  "We oughta run away together.  Serve 'em right for leaving us all alone.  We c'n go to Vegas an' get hitched."  She frowned.  "We're gonna hafta steal a boat."

(My character switches sides and is confronted by yours.)

A brilliant flash of light swelled and radiated from the ground floor windows of the office building. Jim Moriarty was across the street and witnessed the flare with a raised eyebrow. He’d come here on business, seeking information that Lucifer desired from someone employed in the building, information that he wanted extracted and erased. It was beginning to look as though someone else had arrived there first.

Watching from a discrete distance, he waited to see who might emerge, curious as to what might have caused the light he saw.

There was no movement or sound to indicate when she appeared, but he felt a disturbance tickle against his skin as air redistributed around her form and his senses registered the invasion of his personal space. All of this took an instant to take in, and the next moment he was turning to face her. There was something odd about her; something different that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It was almost as if her colors had gotten deeper, as if the fire of her hair had taken on the copper tinge of blood, and her eyes seemed to be reflecting the light of twilight despite the bright afternoon. Brushing off the fanciful ideas, he graced her with one of his charming smiles. “Fancy meeting you here, Anna."

"Anafiel, if you please." She said, her voice soft but eyes glinting with an unfamiliar hardness. If he were a lesser man he might be unnerved by her strange behavior, but not Jim. He was intrigued.

"You seem different, Anafiel, and it’s more than your change in choice of moniker."

"I suppose that’s because I am," she said, a bemused smile flitting across her face. “I’ve finally accepted the truth and realized where I truly belong."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Lucifer was right. He’s been right all along, and I finally understand." Her gaze drifted to the building across the street. “We’ve been talking for a while now, my brother and I. At first I was so blinded by the party line I’d been fed in Heaven that I wouldn’t listen, but once he helped me realize how brainwashed we all were I was finally able to hear what he’d been saying all along."

Jim knew firsthand how well Lucifer could use words to his advantage, but he was still surprised that he’d managed to wear down Anna, staunch defender of humanity that she was. “So you’ve switched sides, then?" He asked calmly.

"I have. I’m finally on the side where I belong, and at Lucifer’s side I have the chance to make things right."

"What about the Winchesters?"

"Sam will yield eventually, and Dean will die." Her words came out in the same sweet voice she’d always had, but the words were under-girded with a chill as cold as ice. The stark change was enough to raise prickles of hair on the back of his neck, but not a twitch of his face betrayed it.

"You seem sure of that."

"That’s because I’m going to make sure it happens." Her radiant smile was completely wrong. “They’re weak and petty. They need someone to control them. When this is all over, everything will be so much better. This beautiful world can be an unspoiled paradise again, clean from all the selfishness and cruelty of mankind. It will be beautiful and peaceful again, and under Lucifer’s reign it will flourish." Her eyes were distant as she pictured it in her mind.

"And what do you get out of all this?" He asked, curiously.

"I get to have a family again, one that won’t betray me, that won’t die, and won’t leave." Her eyes gleamed passionately, almost feverishly. Finally he had a glimpse of Lucifer’s tactic. He had played on her loneliness, and promised her a future where she would have a home to replace the one she had given up.

"It will all be better," she said again. “Peaceful. Would you like a taste, Jim?" Glancing at him, she smiled and if he hadn’t know better he would almost say that her look was hungry. Before he could answer, she reached out and touched his forehead.

They weren’t standing on the street anymore. They were inside the office building surrounded by unrecognizable charred bodies strewn across the floor. A stunned woman stood in the doorway, a scream stuck in her throat. Anafiel approached and laid a hand on her forehead, burning her essence from her body from the inside out. As the corpse crumpled to the floor, she turned to smile sweetly at Jim.

Not Dead Yet: My character tries to kill yours.

Her hands were around Jim's throat.

Why were her hands around Jim's throat?

She couldn't...

"James, I believe I am malfunctioning."  She thought the strangled noise Jim was making sounded like agreement.  Why was he making that noise?

Oh.  Her hands were around his throat.

Why were her hands around his throat?

Her head ached.

She groaned, and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples.  Jim's relieved gasping barely registered.  Why was she hurting?  She thought there had been something about a corrupted file.  What file?  Why did she hurt?

Did she hurt?

She didn't hurt.

She frowned down at her console.  "I was...accessing my core personality files.  Why was I doing that?"

"You were...showing me...how you work," Jim croaked, sliding a disc back into one of his pockets.

"Oh.  Of course."  She trusted Jim.  Jim was her pilot.  "Shall we go, then?"

Crystal Ball: My character spies on yours.

Cassandra looked nervously at the business card in her hand, with a date and time scrawled on the back. She had tentatively accepted Jim’s offer of a job, as a way of getting information about him and his plans.

She was good at keeping a straight face under stress and tried not to let her emotions show as she was welcomed into his office. He smiled at her and she returned it.

The meeting went smoothly as Jim gave a small pitch about the job he was offering and how much she’d be paid. Cassandra nodded and smiled in all the right places, carefully asking questions where she could to get information. She thought she’d gone undetected until she was walking out and he called to her, “Do give my regards to whoever it is who asked you to come to this meeting. I hope you think about the offer seriously though. It might benefit you.” Cassandra froze momentarily before turning and smiling. 

Too Much Time on My Hands: My character is bored and passes the time with yours.

[Jim specifically asked me for monkeys before sending this.  So this time, it’s not my fault! (Okay, it is probably my fault.)  MONKEY BACKSTORY: x x x x]

The TARDIS was most definitely not laughing.  Not even remotely close to laughing.  She might, however, admit to beaming widely, if only because she couldn't exactly deny the expression on her face and was entirely failing to hide it behind her hand.

"It is entirely typical behaviour," she told Jim.

"I am aware of that."

"It means they've accepted you as a member of their troop."

"Indeed.  But Idris?"

She smiled sweetly.  "Yes, Jim?"

"There is a monkey in my hair."  He said it slowly, just in case she failed to grasp what he was saying.

"There is," the TARDIS replied serenely.

"And Idris?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"A monkey appears to have stolen my jacket."