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]

...God, no.

[ she laughs, turning back to give the cooking milk and cocoa a jaunty whisk. ] Don't worry. I've seen worse. Bubblegum pink, for example. Or two different and very very clashy colours.

[monoculi]

Could you be any more emphatic? [he makes an effort at a pout, though isn't sufficiently wounded to keep that up for long. he flips back to the journal, scanning in a cursory way and skipping a whole bunch of paragraphs (he'll come back to them later, probably when he's alone) in search of the parts that mention buffy.]

Aha! There you are. [he holds a finger up victoriously.] General... formidable warrior... brought down by Buffy Summers. [he wears an expression that's partly impressed, partly proud and partly 'i told you so'.] Buffy the barmaid, huh?

[herotypical]

My first August -- [ she tips a healthy sprinkingling of cinnamon into the close-to-bubbling mixture. a trick, learned from someone else. ] The Cultists invaded and the General pissed off the wrong someone. He shows up, now and then. He showed up...

[ just recently, on a mission to which she wasn't invited. but also on a draft, where she certainly had squared off against him to dire consequences. ] He's bad news. Because people don't stay brought down here, usually.

[monoculi]

[and now it's time for a quizzical frown.]

How do you mean? Like, in a zombie way? And, sidebar, I wish zombie was not part of my immediate frame of reference.

[herotypical]

No. Nothing like that. Though we did have a recent run-in with a zombie hoarde. But people generally show up again about a week or so after kicking the bucket. Missing something, because we all know there's always a penalty for coming back from the dead.

[ a wrinkle of her nose. ]

[monoculi]

Yeah. [and buffy more so than anyone else - though he'll refrain from adding that. he looks ever so slightly alarmed at her casual, passing reference to zombie run-ins.]

Are zombie hordes a thing that happens around here often?

[herotypical]

[ a glance upwards as she ladles the concoction into a matching pair of mugs. ]

No. Not here, at least. But they have zombie troubles in other enclosures, apparently. We were sent out on a draft in last October and stumbled onto an outbreak. It was--

[ horrific. halfway into the week, the malnosso had pulled the plug on all special abilities and powers. buffy hadn't felt so helpless in quite a long time. ]

It wasn't pretty. So far, Luceti's been clean.

[monoculi]

[he sighs a heavy sigh. perhaps the grim reality of this place is starting to finally sink in. other enclosures? drafts? it's all a little bit overwhelming - maybe once he's filled in some of the gaps it'll be easier.] It sounds like I've got a lot of reading up to do.

[in a tone that's a couple of shades lighter he adds, with a gesture at the hot chocolate.] But that both looks and smells amazing.

[herotypical]

[ she delivers the drink into his hands, an appreciative smile the only response for his kind words. ]

You'll figure it out. I mean, you already have a wing-up on most New Feathers. 'Cause you're no strange to the weird and the wacky. If anything, some months? This place can be way way calm in comparison to what Sunnydale was like.