herotypical | voice + action ✪ there must be some way to bring the hero home

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voice + action ✪ there must be some way to bring the hero home

[ after a week of agonizing combat, buffy summers returns home with only exhaustion on her mind. despite all the excitement and crisis, there's little left to do other than collapse onto her bed and fall into a sleep fit for a weary, worn-out soul. morning sees her feeling no less -- shudder -- zombieish. the horror of the last week is bone-and-marrow deep and has yet to fully make itself known in her system. the slayer is running on auxillery humanity, stringing herself along from second to second until she can find a friendly face. find willow and...

and all she finds is an empty room. an empty closet. empty drawers. her best friend is gone. deported while she wasn't even looking. come the afternoon, after she's gotten the first onslaught of emotions out of her system, buffy sits alone on the empty bed. she addresses her journal: ]

Willow and I have this game we like to play. Willow Rosenberg. She was in town...but now she's not. [ a pause allows buffy to catch her breath. to stay strong. ] We call it 'Anywhere But Here' -- self-explanatory, really. Pick a fantasty-elsewhere to be and a fantasy-someone to share it with. I'm not talking about the obvious ones: home or family or anything even remotely whiffing of responsibility. I'm talking about fun. I'm talking about pure escapism. I'm talking Daniel Craig on the beach or Amy Yip at the waterpark.

I'll go first. Show you how it's done. [ but which escape route from reality should she take? ] The '88 Winter Olympics. The Saddledome. Calgary, of all places. Brian Boitano is taking the time to personally skate me through his gold medal routine. Perhaps there's hot chocolate involved. I, being made entirely of my own imagination, copy each move perfectly.

Got it? Good. Because now it's your turn.

[ when her broken little tribute to an absent friend is finished, she'll be searching out her injured pirate (wherever he may be convalescing) and it's off to good spirits, where she can be found working a shift behind the bar. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At the great library there is a particular balcony from which one can see two other galaxies.

There, on a warm night, with a particular lady, watching the stars drift by. That and nothing more.

[ ugh. written. buffy hates it when they write.

but she grabs her utensil regardless; it's easier to edit out her darker tones in writing, anyway. ]

How...personal. Kinda explodes the original parameters of the game, don't you think?

Rules are meant to be broken.

But I could come up with something far more extravagant if you like.

Extravagance was kinda the point.

[ anything else reeks of things missed and nostalgia and heartache. ]

Having a bit of quiet time is an extravagance, the way things have been lately.

But for your entertainment.

I shall race horses across the plains of Vanaheim. To victory, of course. And at the end of it, feasting and dancing. As I am not acquainted with the popular culture of Midgard, you might accompany me if you're so inclined.

When it comes to horses, I'm still getting my learner's permit. But I guess it's the thought that counts.

Well, since it's my fantasy, it would be very rude of me to not grant you all the necessary skill, yes?

[ if writing could ever be wry: ] How generous of you.

You can also have the prettier horse. But I'm afraid you shall have to content yourself with second place.

Is that a vital part of your fantasy as well? You being top dog. You're so totally a guy, aren't you? [ she peers at the journal's little box of a screen. ] Because that reads like typical guy behaviour.

I am "so totally a guy," yes. Though I sincerely doubt that victory feeling nice is limited only to males of any species. If nothing else, one of the ladies I grew up with would surely take exception to that. And she's flattened my nose often enough that I shouldn't want to cross her again.

...Good for her. [ tap tap tap. ] Where's Vanaheim, anyway?

You would like her, I think. ~~I miss~~ Though I would not of course wish her here.

Not far from Asgard.

Asgard.

[ she copies the noun out with surprising care. she'd met a man from asgard, once. a hulk of a man who made merry in her bar and then -- during a very strange shift -- allowed her to braid his blonde hair. hmm. ]

Fine. I'll bite. Why would I like her?

[ that is, how do you know me well enough to know that i'd like her? ]

She's the only female warrior Asgard has ever had. The other women who sought out war tired of butting heads with the idiotic men and went to the Valkyrie instead. I would say she is the strongest and most determined person I have ever had the honor to know. And utterly unwilling to put up with nonsense.

So really, the better question would be - why would anyone not? (Unless you are a pigheaded warrior of Asgard but I somehow doubt that.)

Well. Nonsense aside, it sounds like you do her honour in your descrip. [ truncated, abbreviated writing. ]

Ha. Not hardly, but it is the best I can do.

Come on. It wasn't too shabby. As a woman of the warrior persuasion, I'd have been flattered.

Maybe.

A bit.

I thank you then.

I have been glad to see so many women who are warriors here.

Ditto. [ and why not? buffy would much rather she didn't have the monopoly on girl power. that's a strong point in her philosophy. ] This place does -- on occasion -- take the cake for diversity.

I have noticed this. I find it quite refreshing.

[ she hazards a guess: ] What? Asgard a little too homogeneously Nordic for your tastes?

[There is a hesitation mark on the page.]

I did not fit in.

Square peg in a round hole?

As good of a metaphor as any, I suppose.

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