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Disclaimer: Dru really belongs to Joss, as we all know. I'm just borrowing her for this little ficlet. :)If anyone was around, this is what they would have seen that moonlit night in the park:
A dark haired lady dances 'round the paths of the park; weaving between the benches, 'round and 'round the trees and over the grass and stones.
She looks too solid to be ghost but too ethereal to be human either. Nothing about her fits in with these modern times, as if she had suddenly danced out of the pages a Victorian fairytale romance just moments before.
She hums faintly, deep, dark eyes and wine-dark lips smiling. Her cream lace dress twirls and sways in tune to the faint music; her long dark dark hair, a constantly shifting veil draped 'round her neck and face.
She took her roses and made a bed,
A stony pillow for her head.
She lay her down, no more did say,
But let her roses fade away.
She's like the swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry,
She's like the sunshine on the lee shore,
She loves her love but she'll love no more."
A young man walks down the nearby path, hesitantly approaching the dancing form.
“Lady? Lady? Are you lost?”
“Lost, my lamb? Oh, no. Not lost. Not ever.”
She stopps dancing. Her face tilts and her smile grows wider.
“No, not lost. Not ever again. I'm on my own, free at last.”
“Lady?”
“My family's dead, you know. Daddy killed them all. And now Daddy's gone too. And Grandmummy. And Spike, my poor sweet Spike, who went over to her. I miss Spike. Would you like to be my family?”
The young man didn't like her sudden shifts and strange words. Perhaps she was that escapee from that asylum? He had heard that someone had recently escaped from there. There was supposed to be reward.
He could use the money.
“Lady, perhaps you'd better come with me. I'm not going to hurt you, promise. I don't know who your family is but perhaps I can help you find them. If you would just come with me?”
She was swaying around him as he was talking, trailing her fingers in the air.
“You can't hurt me. No, you can't. Only Daddy could. And Spike. Such lovely pain.”
She stopped and faced him. She frowned.
“No one will play those games with me. Not anymore. Will you play? No. I don't like you. You stink of that place. Daddy would never have let me go there. The only good thing about it was the white-coat men. They tasted lovely; of fear and despair. I wonder...do you taste like them?”
One swift swirl later and her dress is no longer what it was.
“Yes, he did taste quite lovely, of peaches and fear and just a hint of melancholy.”
*My first attempt at a Dru-centric fic. Let me know what you think. :)
*The song is "She's Like A Swallow," a traditional song. You can download it here.
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