Faith Lehane (
want_take_have) wrote2012-05-15 08:33 pm
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001 - Every time that I wake it's like I only wake into a dream
[she dreamt of a picnic.
Mayor Wilkins was there. Happy. Whole. Cracking his stupid, corny jokes that should have made her roll her eyes...except they didn't. There was a nagging sense of deja vu, like she'd seen this before and it hadn't ended well, but they finished their meal and he talked with her and...nothing happened. It was perfect.
She was content enough that she laid back on the grass and closed her eyes, just enjoying the breeze against her face and the fact that, for once, she didn't have to be on edge.
When she woke, she could still feel the hint of that breeze. An illusion, of course. Something left over from her imagination, because you didn't get wind in prison cells. She kept her eyes closed though, trying to pretend, because she wasn't quite ready to let it go...except there was a dull ache between her shoulder blades that wouldn't let her fully relax. Finally, she swore, grit her teeth, and opened her eyes-
...And stared.
It takes a few minutes of quietly freaking out before she finds the journal, and a few more before she gets ahold of herself enough to attempt to use it. She was from Sunnydale...She could handle screwed up. She'd figure it out as she went. Right?
When she actually speaks, she sounds pretty chill, especially to anyone who doesn't know what she sounds like when she's wigged.]
So...not saying I totally buy the whole "this is real" thing, 'cause this is all kinds of messed up...but pretending I did...where's a girl gotta go to get a hard drink around here?
[because she really, really needed one]
Mayor Wilkins was there. Happy. Whole. Cracking his stupid, corny jokes that should have made her roll her eyes...except they didn't. There was a nagging sense of deja vu, like she'd seen this before and it hadn't ended well, but they finished their meal and he talked with her and...nothing happened. It was perfect.
She was content enough that she laid back on the grass and closed her eyes, just enjoying the breeze against her face and the fact that, for once, she didn't have to be on edge.
When she woke, she could still feel the hint of that breeze. An illusion, of course. Something left over from her imagination, because you didn't get wind in prison cells. She kept her eyes closed though, trying to pretend, because she wasn't quite ready to let it go...except there was a dull ache between her shoulder blades that wouldn't let her fully relax. Finally, she swore, grit her teeth, and opened her eyes-
...And stared.
It takes a few minutes of quietly freaking out before she finds the journal, and a few more before she gets ahold of herself enough to attempt to use it. She was from Sunnydale...She could handle screwed up. She'd figure it out as she went. Right?
When she actually speaks, she sounds pretty chill, especially to anyone who doesn't know what she sounds like when she's wigged.]
So...not saying I totally buy the whole "this is real" thing, 'cause this is all kinds of messed up...but pretending I did...where's a girl gotta go to get a hard drink around here?
[because she really, really needed one]
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done.
[ not true, really. there's cloud nine. there's seventh heaven. but there was something satisfying in staking her claim so early. ]
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Right. Okay. I get it. I'm dreaming.
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[voice]
[Given the season, Amelia only pauses for a moment before she adds:]
Need directions?
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[she just needed a chance to gather her thoughts...and ditch the terribad sundress she was wearing. Talk about bad memories. She tried to keep her voice even, though]
I'm gonna guess I just gotta head towards the light.
[she means the lights of the village, but there's a heavy dose of irony coating those words]
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Damn...punk town like this has a night club? Who'd have thought?
[the words are there, but the brave edge that she usually flaunted was a bit strained, tonight]
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Okay, so she'd half expected it, but it was still freaky as hell]
Sorry, Sister, but I not really in a halfway sort of mood.
[an awkward pause] But...thanks.
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[Hell. It's where he is now.]
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1/eh
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3/3!!!
Silly her.
Well, she was about to go find Buffy anyway. In the meantime, she'll offer an extremely awkward piece of half-hearted, drowsy advice.]
Good Spirits.
[Yes, direct her to the Slayer's place of employment. Buffy will know what to do.]
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Need any help? I take it you woke up close to the village.
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...this place is just crawling with Good Samaritans. [the words weren't particularly friendly, but they lacked the bite they would normally have. The British accent has her on edge, though]
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[Voice/Let me know if the first-person prose is a problem]
She didn't ping my celebrity radar. Still, anybody who gets stuck in this hole deserves directions to the freaking bar, if nothing else.
"It's a nice little place called Good Spirits. If you can find the plaza, it's just a little ways from there, near the fork in the road."
I paused.
"And I'm sorry to tell you this, ma'am, but that thing where you pretend it's a dream never works for long."
Re: [Voice/ It's a bit confusing,but whatever you're most comfortable with is cool]
[if she didn't know Buffy was there, she'd have been fine with it. But ignorance wasn't really a possibility at this point]
[Voice/ Nah, it's just a nod to the canon, I'd be cool with brackets if you'd prefer.]
[Voice | So long as you don't mind!]
[Voice | Totally cool!]
[Voice | Totally cool!]
[Voice | Totally cool!]
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[really. How do any of you deal with this?]
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