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

[herotypical]

[ 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. ]

Comments

[zumo]

[ And that earns a raised eyebrow. Don't you work here, lady?

Oh well. Westerners. :| He shakes his head at her suggestion. ]

It's fine. Just pick one. [ Hey, it's all free. Maybe she'll give him the highest quality stuff purely by accident. ]

[herotypical]

...Japanese booze roulette it is, mister...?

[zumo]

Hijikata. [ He settles back in his seat a little more, just slightly less on edge. Slightly. ]

[herotypical]

[ she valiantly resists the urge to say 'gesundheit', because that's apparently a no-no with names. so, instead, she offers a thin-lipped expression of...

well...

almost blankness.

and pours a little cup of sake. ]

Buffy. Summers. Buffy Summers. I mean -- if you were wondering. About my name.

[zumo]

[ To be fair, he wouldn't have understood the reference anyway.

Taking the cup he...narrows his eyes a little when she introduces herself. ]

Summers, huh? Heard about you. [ And he takes a sip...ugh, it's strong. Which is a good thing right now, yes, but still. ]

[herotypical]

Oh? My reputation precedes me? Lucky me.

[zumo]

Yeah. Some insane woman was raving about you. And you don't forget a name like that.

[herotypical]

Oh. God. Who? Do I even wanna know?

[zumo]

Didn't catch her name. [ He brings the sake cup just up to his lips, thinking of how to describe her. ]

Really thin and pale, brown hair, sort of wide eyes?

[herotypical]

[ expectation and dread enters her voice: ] Haruhi.

[zumo]

[ Shaking his head before taking another sip. ]

A Westerner, like you. [ And setting the cup down, looking Buffy over a tad incredulously. ]

You killed her, apparently. If that rings any bells.

[herotypical]

Oh. Her.

[ if possible, she exhibits even less sympathy now. ] Only you're mistaken. I didn't kill her. You can't kill what's already dead.

[zumo]

...Already dead?

[ Sigh, then almost an aside: ] I hate this place.

[herotypical]

Well. [ she clarifies with a little wrinkle of her nose. ] Undead.

[zumo]

Sounds unpleasant.

And the Malnosso brought her back anyway, huh.

[herotypical]

...Yay for us.

[ dry. unremorseful. ]

[zumo]

...So, you make a habit of dealing with undead, Summers?

[ Mostly asking because GIRL you are tiny. ]

[herotypical]

A profession, actually. It's a little more organized than a mere habit.

[ well! she stands a little straighter and crosses her arms over her chest. she feels a little as though she's on trial. ]