divided | ( open post! ) voicetest → amy pond

[ his grin blossomed when she reached for his leg, chest feeling warm and tight, despite or perhaps because of what was or wasn't inside its cavity. he found himself hanging on each word, realizing quickly it was a brand new tale and he grasped at her lively narrative in the same way she grabbed for his hand. ]

You're only just getting started. Don't mind me, luv. [ his fingers curled around hers, but he deliberately dodged her gaze, fearing eye contact might throw her off the story. ]

[ she notices his hand, but doesn't say anything. perhaps she likes it a little too much, or perhaps she's thankful for the physical anchor. she doesn't know why she chose this story — but she certainly knows why she left parts of it out. it's too long, too dense, and involves too much remembering to not use their names, although, she's quite certain spike knows who these characters are. she much likes that he plays along with her. ]

Well, after giving the bloke with the bowtie some CPR, he and the kissogramme happened along a very strange, little girl. She was very strange, glaring into the distance, sort of robotic, not blinking. The bloke with the bowtie found this out with his son—er, yeah, sonic screwdriver that she wasn't all human. After shutting her down, they found a fancy, out-of-order elevator. Inside was a wormhole into the spaceship of the aliens who had planted the boxes like seeds all around the globe.

Of course, they walked into it. How could anyone resist such a looking glass?

And inside was the spaceship, a sort of dark looking interior, very depressing. They found the nurse there, and his father, too, I forgot to mention his father had been kidnapped along with a few others by these aliens. But that's not as important as finding out that these aliens were meant to be of myth. They were sort of like cleaners, wanting to wipe out all of humanity most likely for the reasons I stated before — poor music, poor fashion styles, poor haircuts — but the bloke with the bowtie reversed the heart attacks after having a bit of a verbal tango the kissogramme didn't quite follow.

Everyone was revived, waking up from where they had fallen as if they'd merely tripped. It was quite fascinating, the fact that you could die from a heart attack, the most vulnerable organ you have, and simply wake up and walk again.

But it's not as simple as that. Nothing ever is, is it? As the bloke with the bowtie reversed the work of these pest controlling aliens, the ship was going to blow. Would our trio of heroes make it out safely? [ she pats his fingers, her own lifting slightly, the palm of her hand staying flat against the stone they're sitting upon. ] Perhaps that's a story for another time, dear friend. Or perhaps the one where the kissogramme accidentally married Henry the Eighth.

[ she grins, but doesn't make much of an effort to try and catch his gaze this time. ] I can't reveal all of my stories, or else you'd have nothing else left to ask of me.

[ he suddenly wanted to gather her up, the vulnerability in her voice heart-rending even if she covered it well. he didn't, though, remaining static and firm, knowing she might need his stillness now. ]

So what, that's it? The do--bowtie bloke just talked to the alien, and everything went back? Seems you're not the only one with a talent for it.

[ he knew what it was like to think death was permanent and be wrong, but he didn't think it was his place to say so. ]

...Does that mean it's my turn, then?

Something with the sonic screwdriver made the aliens a bit complacent, but they were completely scared, weren't they? Talking to them through a holograph.

[ chicken shits. ]

[ she ignores his slip. she makes herself ignore it. why is it when she slips up he endeavours to cover it, but when she does well in keeping all the names straight, he slips? they're quite a pair, spike and amy, one that's mismatched and one that's perfect, like two pieces of the exact same puzzle. ]

[ amy grins, like the cat who caught the mouse. she loves spike's stories; she's an adventurer at heart, and while spike tells the most crazy of tales, sometimes she's very glad to not have been apart of them. ] Does this mean I get to collect on a story of my favourite hero?

That depends -- who might that be? [ he squeezes her hand and watches the last tendrils of the sun disappear, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

as always, there were a wealth of stories he could tell, but he'd rather remain in this moment, with her. going back meant remembering; it meant feeling all sorts of things he had tried to put behind him.

as much as spike loved spinning a good yarn, for now all there was for him was this. ]

[ there's so many to choose from. spike is a fantastic storyteller, one that she wishes she had known long ago; his stories were always fantastical, unreal, yet adventurous. and while she may or may not be in the know of them being a part of his autobiography, they grip amy like the tales from the doctor. ]

The handsome one in the trenchcoat. Captain Peroxide, isn't it? That's what the broody bloke with the big forehead calls him.

[ he snorts at the reference, not willing to give in just yet. ]

Sure you've got the right one?

[ she elbows him. ] I do listen when you tell your stories! It's hard to keep up with them, yeah, since you bounce around a very wonky timeline, but I keep up. I listen. And I'm invested.

[ come on, spike, spill. ]

Ow. [ he complained, keeping his steady grip on her hand while he shifted slightly from the unpleasant elbowing. ]

It's not my fault they're wonky, is it? It isn't like yours are much better. [ but the point goes to amy yet again. like it had anywhere else to go. ]

What're you in the mood for? Action, drama, romance?

[ amy shifts so she's not back to back with him any longer. she can easily rest her head on his shoulder and it'll be comfortable. ] Romance. Tell me how this handsome bloke wins the fair maiden's hand with his bleach hair and lovely words.

[ and she does just that, resting her chin on his shoulder, glancing at his cheek. he has such strong bone structure. she likes it. ] Make me swoon at the knees, sailor.

Edited (i'm editing for the icon i can't live like this) 2013-10-05 03:04 (UTC)

[ her breath washing over his skin gives him a slight shudder, closing his eyes for just a second to ground himself again. how was it that this girl could throw him so firmly off kilter without even trying? ]

I don't have lovely anything, and I'm no sailor. I'm a creature of the night! [ and he felt it down, as nightfall began to settle around them, darkness overtaking their small sanctuary. but the argument is weak even to him, and he knows it's time to start the story and stop arguing already. ]

Did eat some sailors once though. Some Germans. Got to wear the getup before Angel threw me out to sea. [ wait this isn't the story he's supposed to be telling... ] Did I ever tell you about the girl and the demon head?

[ let's go to italy, amychan ]

[ amy rolls her eyes. he may be a creature of the night, but he is quite the lovely one. last time she had crossed paths with vampires, they had tried to make her into one. spike was different; she doesn't understand how he is, but he just is, and she likes it, that he's not your average bloke or creature of the night. she wishes the doctor was here to meet him; he'd probably like him, demote amy as a companion and take spike everywhere. spike couldn't grow old, after all. ]

[ she smiles. ] No, but something tells me you're about to.

Sure am. [ he turned his head to look at her, setting his forehead against hers for just a second before looking back up at the sky. ] This one stars our hero, Captain Peroxide, of course. And his sidekick, Stupid-Low-Hanging-Forehead-Brooder-Man.

[ spike gives that one a second to sink in. not his best work, but sometimes the simple approach was the best one. he reached up, closing his hand around her wrist and dragging her closer. as close as this position would allow. ]

Don't know if you've ever had a run-in with the mafia, but I'm pretty sure you've never met this one. Demon mob, Italian based, and ugly as all get-out. Funny thing is about the demon mafia, they don't take kindly to getting beheaded. Well, anyway, I've told you about all that Wolfram and Hart mess, so somehow it was up to the heroes of this story to put it right. And so the noble newly ensouled and newly corporealized protagonist set out, with I guess the help of that other guy, for Rome.

( open post! ) voicetest → amy pond

well good X(

kisses you all over your face

u///////u

stop blushing it makes your peroxide hair stand out

i know im sorry :<

not sorry enough!!!!

youre probably right

it's okay i forgive you

you really shouldnt

what have you done now 8|

idek

you're so beautiful to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

i hope you like my 2 am tags i think they are the most quality tbh