001. not in kansas, toto [action/voice]

[monoculi]

[Xander has woken up in some pretty weird places in his time. It's an occupational hazard of fighting the forces of evil and usually getting knocked unconscious as a result. However, this - Luceti, that is - has certainly raised the bar of weirdness.

Cold, hard, earth underneath his bare (and oddly uncomfortable) back, greenery and trees all around, and some frankly bizarre white pants on his lower half. Blinking, groaning and fumbling to feel for his eyepatch (on his face, mercifully) he sits up.]

What the...? [he mutters, looking around incredulously - at that moment noticing his clothes piled neatly beside him, along with the rather incongruous looking journal. He stares, then sighs, reaching for his clothes - this is all probably Andrew's moronic doing, his idea of a hilarious prank - after all, if it was a demon thing, he'd probably be dead or eaten by now. Or possibly disembowelled.

He moves to pull his sweater over his head, but encounters difficulty at his shoulder blades - an odd obstruction, something there where there should be nothing. After a couple of frustrated tugs, he reaches back to find out what the problem is, and oh - feathers. Attached to... wings. Well, that's a game-changer.

Now fully miffed (and feeling a lot less relaxed about this whole experience) he abandons the sweater and reaches for the book instead, stifling the urge to panic. There were bound to be clues in here, right? He arrives at the first page and eyes it with suspicion - some kind of communication device? After a moment of ginger examination, he hesitantly selects the 'voice' function, muttering to himself:]

Yay, a mysterious book. Because that always ends so spectacularly well.

[and now raising his voice substantially:]

Okay, listen up, Andrew - whatever kind of hilarious joke you're playing, it's very much not hilarious. And if you don't get out here within the next two seconds and undo whatever funky mojo you did to my back, I will personally locate and destroy your vintage 1989 Sega Mega Drive console. Mint condition and boxed, third drawer from the left, don't think I won't do it!

Comments

[herotypical]

...The first six months I was here, I used to live across the river -- [ with angel. she'll leave out that detail. ] But House Seven has kinda become a staple. Five bedrooms. They were all full, once. Now it's just me and Jack.

[ buffy doesn't like living with so few souls to so much space. ] Well. Me and Jack and you -- [ she drops her coat on the back of a chair and gives the one-eyed man a sly glance. the slayer would love to make that choice for xander, and she's no stranger to making executive decisions for other people. but she does have the decency to gauge his reaction to the offer.

and to add, hastily: ] Not like you have to sign a lease right this minute, of course. I mean -- gee -- you just got here. I should be getting you fed and caught up to speed, not planning a housemate chore chart.

[monoculi]

[he sees what you did there buffy - very (un)sneaky. to be honest, he's been living with buffy for a while now and it certainly seems the natural thing to do, she's his best friend - though admittedly, at the castle, there were a crapload of other residents too.

on the other hand, this is a completely different place. she's all settled with the boyfriend, would he be an annoying third wheel? a cramper of style? that's his only reservation. he rubs the back of his neck a little sheepishly. ]

I appreciate it, really - but I wouldn't want to intrude on any sea-faring domestic bliss...

[herotypical]

[ and buffy won't admit that she will gladly postpone as much domestic bliss as possible. she and jack living alone together had been an awkward sort of accident, created by him needing a place to crash and the remaining residents getting sent home. truthfully, she could do with just about anything to keep it from getting a little too white-picket-fence-y. ]

I'm a Slayer and he's a pirate. I'm not sure that domestic is ever supposed to be part of the package...[ as much as sparrow seemed keen to settle, buffy found herself feeling rather unprepared for that much domesticity. ]

But if you'd much much rather live alone in one of those depressingly lonely apartment buildings instead, don't come booing and hooing to me when you realize someone's stealing your Hot Pockets out of the communal kitchen.

[ speaking of kitchens, buffy pops her boots off and leaves them in a heap near the door before heading towards her own. ]

[monoculi]

Okay, okay. [he relents, setting down the journal he's been carrying on the nearest available surface, before following her in the direction of the kitchen.]

Sold - to the woman with the convincing argument and the excellent hair. [see that flattery there? he's a pro.] Thank you.

[herotypical]

...And I do so love both winning and flattery. [ she dumps the contents of her previously abandoned mug down the sink, rinsing it with a quick shot of water. ] God. I missed you. And not just your kind follicular commentary.

[ her rinsed mug is racked up next to a fresh and clean one. buffy hooks a finger 'round the knob of a cupboard door. ] Coffee or cocoa?

[monoculi]

[he leans against a convenient counter top, smiling (a little sadly) at her declaration of missing him. he'd return the sentiment, except, to his mind, the last time he saw her was literally yesterday. what a bizarre situation.]

I'm thinking cocoa goes best with marshmallow-y goodness. [plus he's probably already wired enough without coffee.] So, did I hear you say there's no money here? No economy? Does that mean you don't have to work? [and if so, 'what on earth do you do to pass the time?' being the unspoken question here.]

[herotypical]

[ in which case, out also comes a saucepan and milk and a bit of cocoa powder. it's a miracle she isn't doing this with the microwave, but a lad named archie kennedy once taught her how to make good stove-top hot chocolate. ]

Well -- no. We have no money. The stores don't ask for any money. But the Malnosso hand out patronizing little participation points for their little missions and tasks. Those points buy us equally patronizing building renovations, flashy tech, or gifts. [ buffy prefers arranging for those things without the malnosso's help. ]

But, you're right. That means no one has to have a job. Plenty of us do just to keep ourselves from going bananas with boredom.

[monoculi]

[xander is privately thinking that a world with no money would probably sit very low in anya's estimations. she would have had something hilarious to say about communism, no doubt - but he stows that thought away.]

...and I'm guessing you keep yourself in... well, ungainful employment? [he really couldn't imagine buffy settling for boredom.]

[herotypical]

[ she twists to give a sheepish sort of glance. ]

I'll tell you just how ungainful it is if you promise you won't laugh?

[monoculi]

[he raises a curious eyebrow.]

All laughter stations are on lock-down. Shoot.

[herotypical]

In these parts? I'm better known for my drink-slinging than my vamp-staking. Hi. [ she waves a mock-enthusiastic hand. ] I'm Buffy the barmaid. Pleased to remake your acquaintance.

[ she's selling herself short. she, in point of fact, manages the entire bar-staff after the boss man left a while back. and she's unsurprisingly comfortable with the notion of being the boss. even if she still doesn't do the actual drinking thing all that often. ]

[monoculi]

[if buffy was expecting ridicule or judgement, alas he can't provide.]

Well. I'm Xander - the former dishwasher, bartender, food delivery guy and moonlighting stripper. So, if we're comparing uninspiring career choices, I'm pretty sure I got you beat.

[herotypical]

You were getting paid for it. At least, I sure hope you were getting paid for it. Because -- let me just be the first to say it -- stripping for free is probably a huge rip-off.

[monoculi]

Oh, I got paid. But at what cost? [he says this with a look of dramatic wounded-ness.]

...actually, the cost was around twenty bucks. But seriously, Buff - there are way worse things you could be doing. In fact, you're providing a valuable service to the community.

[herotypical]

...We serve animal blood.

[ she ducks her friend's praise by introducing this laughable fact. there are no vampires currently in town, but they were creepily provided for when they were in residence.

and perhaps xander's attempt to buck her up was a complex contrast to how readily spike had been to label her both mojoless and institutionalized during his last stay. ]

How twisted is that?

[monoculi]

[he absorbs that revelation with a neutral expression - it doesn't exactly sit well with him, given his intense dislike of vampires, but what are the alternatives? starve them until they chow down on the human population? hardly a sustainable solution.

he sighs and pushes himself off the counter top to place a reassuring hand on her arm, his expression earnest.]

Look, you've been here for four years. If there was a way to get out, to get back home - to doing what you were chosen to do - I know you would have done it in a heartbeat. No matter how hard or dangerous it was. Because you're the most dedicated, driven, honourable person I know. That's why I haven't asked you the question. [a pause.]

So, if freedom isn't an immediate option, and you have to sling beers and animal blood in the meantime, at least you're doing what you can - better that than doing nothing. But you're so much more than that - and you should never forget it.

[end speech.]

[herotypical]

[ this, she supposes, is the difference between having a long-time friend assessing the situation versus a manipulative (albeit haunting honest) bastard like spike doing the same. at that's why i haven't asked you the question, she can't suppress the rueful smile that plays across her mouth. relief floods her system and she catches his hand with hers and gives it a squeeze.

and -- however unintentionally -- he reminds her that she's doing a bit more than slinging anything. after all... ]

Go grab your book, Xand. I'll point you to some light reading while I finish the cocoa. It's fascinating stuff. Hell, it even mentions me. It might even answer the unasked question.

[monoculi]

[well, quite why buffy would listen to spike, xander will never understand - but then, xander's feelings on spike are well-documented, and can be condensed into a few choice expletives. sure the guy saved the world, sorta - that doesn't mean xander has to like him.

anyway! he gives her a warm smile, and assents to her suggestion with a nod.]

Sure. [and with that, he turns to leave the kitchen and retrieve his journal.]

[herotypical]

It's written by this someone I know. [ she calls from the kitchen even as she sloshes a generous amount if milk into the saucepan. ] She's compiled most of the info we know. Or, at least, the info we can share publicly on the books.

[monoculi]

[...and he returns a moment later with the journal in hand, moving to stand beside buffy so she can point him in the direction of the right page.]

I'm guessing she's been here a long time too?

[herotypical]

Longer than me, which is a quality that's getting rarer and rarer in these parts by the day.

[ she licks the edge of a finger and flicks through xander's journal until she lands up raine's guide. ] It's long, but also informative. You don't have to read it all in one sitting -- but yours truly comes up now and then.

[ because there is a sort of a big bad involved known affectionately as the general and buffy's life has become devilishly entangled with his. ]

[monoculi]

Will there be a quiz afterwards? Because I don't test well. [he scans the first few paragraphs briefly, squinting ever so slightly to get it into focus - all things people have kindly already told him. Oh, until -]

'Neck branding'? [cue a quizzical look - that's something he hasn't noticed yet.]

[herotypical]

R-right. The barcodes.

[ buffy turns her back to xander, dark red wings fluttering anxiously against her shoulders as she reaches up and draws aside a curtain of loose blonde curls. a few inches from her old bite scars and directly on the back of her neck, the skin is tattooed with a series of thin and thick lines. ]

I usually forget about it, to be honest. I mean -- who ever sees their own neck?

[monoculi]

[xander's eyebrows shoot up at the sight of the barcode on buffy's neck. it's a really odd sight - and he lifts a hand to rub his own neck, almost instinctively.]

Well, that's, uh, different. [and then, a random afterthought:] And I think owls might be able to see their own necks. Potentially.

[buffy turning her back full to him actually has the unintentional side effect of giving him a proper view of her wings - he somehow hadn't quite registered their impact when she first took her jacket off.] You know, your wings are actually a highly awesome colour.

[herotypical]

[ she glances over her shoulder. ]

They're a bitch to accessorize. Do you know how many colours don't coordinate with this shade of red? [ ... ] At least no one can mistake you for a wanna-be goth kid with -- [ she turns around more fully and pops up onto her tippy-toes as if to eye up his feathers ] -- is that teal?