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You can run, but you can't hide [12 Sep 2005|01:43am]

_the_first_
[ mood | enraged ]

The First was furious. The First had felt the rending of the world almost as if it had been a physical injury to a corporeal form that The First Evil did not have. Dimensional gateways and vortices were created all the time, supernatural beings of both human, semi-human and demonic extraction moving between different planes of existence with only slightly less traffic than the Los Angeles subway system.

But this had been different. A hole had been punched through the fabric of creation, and a gateway opened more massive than any The First had seen in a hundred mortal lifetimes. In a heartbeat, it had blossomed, tendrils of energy reaching out and grasping every player in The First's carefully orchestrated game and drawing them all in, slamming shut the door a moment later.

The First had then felt the ripple of reality being rewoven, existence being rewritten. This was, though, the lesser of the two occurrences.

Pylea. The First Evil knew instantly where they had all gone, and there was a reaction something like relief. A demonic dimension, Pylea was a place where The First's influence had long ago taken deep and definite root, and there were still many ways in which the pawns could still be moved across the game board.

With a thought, The First shifted dimensions and arrived in Pylea wearing the body of a monk in a dark red hooded robe.

Keeping his hands tucked into his sleeves and the hood pulled down, keeping his face in deep shadow, the monk moved quietly and deliberately over the uneven terrain and into the cave. Following the crackling of a campfire and the hushed tones of a dozen or so voices engaged in low conversation, the monk discovered the group already well into their deliberations.

The sight inside was an incongruous gathering-- four demons of speckled green, short red horns rising from their foreheads, clad in the shabby remains of chain mail and leather armor, stood amongst at least twice as many humans, themselves in the clothes of peasants and recently released slaves. The entire congregation silenced at the monk's approach.

"Good," the monk intoned, reaching up with hands of a deep red that nearly matched his robes to pull back his hood. The face beneath was human only in shape. Dark crimson skin, crossed with almost black furrows and all-black eyes marked the monk as a demon of a kind that had recently been in charge of the entire realm. "You are all present as demanded by your masters."

The monk took a seat on a nearby rock and regarded the group with interest.

"And now, it is time to tell you all how the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart will use you to regain their rightful place as the masters of Pylea."

9 Golden Slumbers | Get back homeward

Lessons [01 Sep 2005|01:02pm]

wiccabuffy
[ mood | cranky ]

((Cont from HERE))

"No, B, you, you're just a Slayer. Me, I'm a fuckin' superbeing. Somethin' more powerful than you could ever imagine. It's pretty wicked. Want me to show ya?"

Oh good God. I felt like we were two men in a dick-waving contest. Shaking my head at her, I held up a hand. "Uh, no thanks. Whether or not you're actually stronger than me is debatable, considering part of being a Slayer is staying sane. And also, alive."

Although, a teensy part of me knew she was right. That had been the reason I'd told Wes to vamp me, then ensoul me. To get a Champion, a strong one, on our side and have someone who could actually fight Angelus, Spike, and... well, Faith. Apparently, though, he hadn't liked the idea of his girlfriend being undead. I could've told him that sex with a vamp really wasn't all that bad, though... uh, except that was probably not such a good idea.

Where was I again? Oh, yes. Listening to Faith ramble on.

Conversations with Dead PeopleCollapse )

Guess we actually did have that in common, anyways, just... opposites. It had been warm for me, but cold for Faith. A light had welcomed me wherever I'd gone, but Faith had been thrust into utter darkness... both of us had simply wished to be alone and due to the desires of others, our lives had been changed forever. We'd been brought back to a place we didn't wish to be.

"We... we needed a Champion. A vampire-with-a-soul, and Angel's soul was gone forever so... well, Wes figured that since you were a Slayer but undead..." I shifted a bit, uncomfortable confessing to her and knowing I was leaving out my part in it. "Willow used the spell she'd used once on Angelus and restored your soul, and--"

I never finished, though, since Wes and Cordelia showed up over by us. Hopefully, they had a better idea as to what was going on.

And hopefully Faith wouldn't kill Wes on the spot after my little story I'd told her.

((Open to Wes, Faith, & Cordelia))

4 Golden Slumbers | Get back homeward

Good Morning, Sunshine [25 Aug 2005|09:56pm]

undead_handsome
I wasn't exactly the soul of eloquence right after waking up.

"ShitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT..."

Couldn't stop cursing as I stumbled upright and started looking around for some kind of cover. It was day, and I was out in the sun, and it would take about ten seconds before I turned into a crispy critter. A skinny tree afforded just about nothing in the way of shade, but it was only a second or two before I noticed my disntinct lack of being on fire.

Looking, up, I wondered why a sky with two suns actually looked familiar.

It was the nagging buzz in the back of my mind that came up with the answer. It wasn't me who'd been here, but Angel. And 'here' was that demon dimension, Pylea. The one where Angel and his lackeys had played freedom fighters and gotten the demon regime and their backers-- who Angel always pegged as the Senior Partners-- tossed out of the palace. He'd gotten a good look at our real demonic face and gone all uptight about it.

Might've been worth it, though, if the recollections of Cordelia walkin' around in a rhinestone bikini that would've made even the most brazen pole dancer a little self-concscious. Hmm.

Stepping out from my hidey place, I ran right into the wandering Spike. Not that I was surprised to find him lost and meandering, but I didn't like that he was up and around first. I didn't like the idea of being vulnerable.

"You know anything about this, Bleachy?"

((Open to Spike and Lilah, if she likes))

7 Golden Slumbers | Get back homeward

Hell of a Hangover? [25 Aug 2005|09:37pm]

morethanmuscle
"Damn," I groaned, holding a hand up to a head that felt about to crack right open. "Anybody get the license on the truck that just ran me over?"

When I didn't get any answers, smart-ass or otherwise, I finally opened up my eyes and looked around. That was right about the time I really regretted doing that. Instead of marble and metal and vamp dust and all the other things that made the Hyperion home sweet home, I was gettin' an eyefull-- and a noseful, accordin' to my sinuses-- of the great outdoors. Grass, trees, dirt, bushes... all that stuff.

"What in the..."

Pushin' myself up onto my feet, I discovered just how all beat to hell I really was. My axe was layin' down a yard away from where I'd been napping. There was somethin' way too familiar about Sherwood Forest, but the ringin' between my ears was keepin' me from really puttin' my finger on it.

Tryin' to clear my head, I paced over the same patch of grass a few times.

We'd gotten into the big fight, finally. Just like before, I threw in with my family, swinging my axe with everything I had, instead of doin' whatever it would be that Lilah and her... nah, I guess that would be our... bosses would want me to be doin'. Whatever, I decided. If they wanted me to be as useful a double agent as they were wantin', then everyone in the hotel hadda trust me.

The ubervamps were everythin' that the Sunnydale folks had said, and then some, strong as any three or four vamps I'd ever had to put down. But we were dustin' em, at least that's what I thought I could remember.

And now, we was here.

Right about then, the last little piece fell right into place.

Pylea.

"Aww, hell..."

((Open to any other Hyperion-ites))

Get back homeward

Well... fuck [22 Aug 2005|12:08am]

big_pile_o_dust
[ mood | confused ]

"You were my sire, man! You were my... Yoda!"

Huh. Strange fuckin' thought t'wake up to.

And stranger still when I opened up my eyes t'see that I was lyin' 'bout on the bloody ground in the middle of the soddin' day!

Dashin' for some cover, it took a bit and all, but still... somethin' was off. Frownin', I looked down at myself and saw no smoke, no burns... nothin'. I reached a hand out of the shade of the tree I'd found and braved the sun only t'discover that nothin' happened.

Well... fuck.

Last time I'd seen sun, walkin' 'round like it didn't matter none, was back in SunnyHell with the Gem shit and all. Hadn't really taken the time t'enjoy or appreciate it since I'd been far too busy tryin' t'kill the Slayer, but now...

I grinned and shoved two fingers up into the sky at whatever deity might be lookin' down on me.

"Heh. Yeah! Take that!" Now this? This would be a hell of a lot more fun than back in... oh... fuck. Had so much shit stuck up inside my head, I must be losin' it. It was the only explanation for the entire burn-free-fun I was havin', along with some vague memories of me and Angelus... doin' what exactly?

"Angelus!"
"Spike!"
"I'll be damned!"
"I taught you to always guard your perimeter. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You should have someone out there."
"I did. I'm surrounded by idiots. What's new with you?"
"Everything."
"Yeah. Come up against this Slayer yet?"


Shook my head again at the words. Strange... I saw Angelus nearby but not Faith, speakin' of Slayers. Well, that was fine by me. Never liked the bitch anyways, even when she was busy keepin' her mouth shut by satisfyin' Angelus.

Rollin' my eyes at that, I reached into my duster t'fish out my fags as I leaned up against the tree, takin' in the view. Grass, trees, and lots of it. Right. So's the million dollar question now would be -- how the sod all did we wind up here?

8 Golden Slumbers | Get back homeward

Of the way we were......... [22 Aug 2005|12:05am]

fakingitsomehow
[ mood | sore ]

Here's the thing about battles. You fight, you win, or you lose - pretty simple and clear-cut.

As I opened my eyes and looked around me to see what appeared to be some sorta green meadow, I had absolutely no clue if we'd won, lost, or even if we'd fought. Then, I tried to sit up, and I quickly doubled over in pain, pressing my hand against my ribs.

Ok. So, we'd fought at least.

I blew out my breath, shook my head to get my bearings, and saw Wes on the ground not too far from me. I made a quick mental count of everyone. Wes, Will, Xand, Cordelia, Gunn, Kennedy, Fred, Kate, Anne... and Faith. Yup, everyone was here and...

Omigod. Faith.

Pushing myself back up, I rushed over to her side to try and cover her up from the sun, but then I started poking her skin a few times. Weird, she felt alive. Or rather, undead. And also, strangely, not burning up. O-kaaaaaay.

Ugh, this was too much to think about right now. And just when was my Slayer healing gonna kick in? Geez.

Sighing next to Faith, my eyes wandered over to Kennedy. She'd made it. That meant a few things - no new Slayer, which was a good thing. Also, Willow would be happy (not that I wasn't, just not as happy as Willow would be). And, that wherever we were? They now had to deal with three awesomely strong Slayers.

Or would that be only two since Faith was a vampire?

Again with the too much thinking.

I'd always been glad that Kennedy had been Chosen after Faith had died. In my eyes, she had the best leader skills, she was the strongest, and... wait, stronger than who? It wasn't like anyone else could've been Chosen. Well, ok, there were those potentials from Sunnydale who had come with us to L.A. but Angelus had pretty much killed them right off...

L.A. -- which did not look like this... and Angelus? Was he here or was this some bizarre dream? Maybe some hell dimension... with pretty trees. Yeah. Right.

"Faith?" Why couldn't I remember anything that had happened? Why was Faith still aliv-- er, undead? Where were we?

I slapped Faith's cheek out of sheer frustration. Soul or no soul.

"Faith, wake up!"

It was probably her fault anyways.

((Open to Faith))

7 Golden Slumbers | Get back homeward

Not Again... [22 Aug 2005|02:50am]

_fredless
[ mood | confused ]

I think I fell asleep on top of a book again.

Some hard, unmovable corner seemed very angry with my cheek, and determined to let it's disatisfaction be known. And come to think...no come to feel it, I might've fallen asleep on my notes and several pens and pencils as well. At least a half doen or so.

It was the only thing that could explain all the pricks and hurts currently having their way with pretty much the entire length of my body. And it struck me as strange, because laying out in the office isn't what I was really inclined to do. But it seemed to be the only explination.

Reaching for one of the more stubborn percils....or books. Or pens. I reached for whatever was there, somewhere just above my left cheek, and felt my stomach sink a little at the dampness I found there. "I promise I didn't spill coffee on your 15th century text Wesley," I offered quickly, the words muffled and far away to my ears. "It must be the air? It seemed really damp in here before, so that must be..."

But I stopped when the heat and the thickness on my hand became slicker than air ever could be, and I was startled when the expected flush that followed actually stung.

"Ok, if it was coffe," I continued, the words no closer, then I'll fix it somehow, even if I don't know what that some is right now? I'll fix it, I promise."

Rolling onto my side, I confirmed that I was both lying down and did actually pocess a damp hand, all while trying not to get too lost in thoughts of the book. My eyes must have been closed, because I had to focus to open them, and when I did a bright, pressuring light was enough to pull the hand right back up as cover. And the air was hot, and the sky was blue, and my hand was...red?

This might be more than a normal hurt.

"I don't think I like this book," I offered to no one, right before I got to the part where I was aware I was making no sense. Not even a lick of it. I blinked again, and just past the dark, just-so-bloodied outline of my hand I caught a glimpse of the sun.

And then the other sun.

Then other sun.

Oh no.

"Oh no no no no no.....no."

But at least I was making sense now, even if it was only to myself. "Just...no," I muttered, hoping uselessly that it might make it true, or truely a bad dream. I pushed up off the ground, aware of at least four or five other real hurts that hadn't anything to do with books, but I couldn't look at then. Only...only the suns, both of them.

And then my eyes dropped to the horizon, one that I had watched nervously for years. For five...

And then the plants, that I had named and renamed over and over again, long after I had forgotten what my own sounded like.

Just....

"Shit."


((open to Cordy, Gunn, and Wesley, plus anyone else close by))

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