strangelyliteral

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[Waking up unceremoniously in Luceti with no idea of where she is and what she is doing there is of course a disorienting experience. Anya finds herself out on the beach, lying prone on the sand. It could be Sunnydale, except the area she's been deposited in doesn't have much surrounding it besides sand and blue skies.

Her back hurts, and by the time she sits herself up and reaches back there...] Wings? Is this a joke?

[Some more time passes with her half-ranting to herself, trying to get oriented and squinting at the placement of the sun. She almost misses the fact that the journal is there completely, save when she finally starts to walk and nearly trips over the thing, half buried in the sand.]

[Accidental voice]

- Ow! I have sand in places that I don't want to think about, there's no sign of anyone - what is this, a book? I don't even get a pair of shoes, or even suntan lotion, I just get a lousy book? [She turns the journal over in her hands, pages rustling, her image still not visible, though there's the sound of the ocean's waves in the background.] ... my name is on this book. This just entered a new level of creepy.

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[ the furniture is simple and the décor is austere. buffy passes the large, empty fireplace and drops her coat onto the couch. she cocks her head, trying to hear if norrington's around -- but it seems as though he isn't. all the better. ]

There's an empty room down the hall if you wanna get changed. There's a few things in that bag. Sandals, too. Just...be careful with the feathers. Meanwhile? I'll get us a glass of something tall, clear and watery.

Yeah, I need a few minutes. And a washcloth too, if there are any clean ones.

There's a narrow closet by the room. It should still have linen and things, so long as James hasn't gone and reorganized the whole place. There's a washroom there, as well. But -- careful, no hot water.

Thanks for the tip.

[Still studying the house curiously, she'll take the walk down the hall, still trying to situate herself. Mentally, it wasn't working; being able to change her clothes and wash up, at least, would give her something to do. Something solid, real. As real as that sword had been in her hands just before she woke up here.]

[ buffy nudged her foot into the fireplace's ashes. really, she should be getting a glass of water. or something. she'll wait -- double-check with anya over whether that's what was wanted. otherwise, she tried to come to terms with this revelation.

she wills herself to be sour over it all. to wish someone else had come, instead. but she finds herself coming up empty on bitterness. it's hard to resent someone who has -- known or not -- been given a chance to live again.

the slayer sighs. turns 'round. surveys the room that housed so many memories of when she and sparrow had just been starting out. maybe she might half miss those days.

called down the hall: ] Was I right? Was it a linen closet?

[The three rooms ahead (almost disappointingly) were laid out just as the Slayer had said; spare room, with a chair that she had propped the supplies and journal on, linen closet, though a little sparse - after some scrounging she does find a handkerchief -]

Yes, it's a closet!

[Before stepping over to the washroom. No hot water, but hadn't she had centuries of no running water? This was nothing. Not with the way signs were dangerously pointing toward something she might not want to hear.

No real answers. What did she want to hear?]

She wrings out the cloth and heads back toward the spare room, the door closing a little harder than necessary. Not quite a slam, but something more than a little click. Frustration.

It still doesn't take as long as she'd like. Five minutes, maybe, give or take. The wings were the hardest part - were those... holes in the shirt for them? They were such bizarre appendages. There may be small grunts of frustration overheard as she wrestles the shirt on.]

[ buffy surprises herself by flinching at the not-quite-slammed door. the sound seems to echo through the concrete-and-wood house. it always seemed so cold, this place. even in the summer. even with the fire lit. it had never been entirely welcoming, though she suspects its once-owner had done his best.

she peers out a window and sees jack's boat in the distance. she thinks about how she missed sailing with him -- proper him -- and made a mental note to go again soon. maybe ask james along if he...

she hears noises. is anya having trouble? buffy crosses the room on quiet footfalls and hovers outside the closed door. ] ...Everything okay in there?

[Anya bristles. She doesn't want to ask for help. Especially not from Buffy.] Why are these wings so important again?

[At least in the summer, she had backless halters which could make this easier. But for the now? It so wasn't worth it.] They keep getting in the way. I feel like I should be carrying around a harp.

[ she leans against the closed door. ]

Think of them like...genetic camouflage, I guess. In order to fit in with the rest of the world, we need wings. They're a part of us, now. Vital.

... so an adaptation to survive in the dimension. Probably due to some wish gone awry.

[She gets it. One of the pros to being a demon is understanding the weirder stuff more easily than the mundane stuff.] There has to be some trick to these holes that I am missing.

[ huh. buffy takes a moment to muse over the fact that anya is indeed understanding this better than one could have hoped. though she's still not certain about the whole...wish part. ]

Just -- relax. Take a deeeeeeep breath. And go one hole at a time. A-and be grateful you -- like me -- are not someone who needs extra support. As awkward as shirts are, I can't even begin to describe what a pain it is to put on a bra.

[The technical stuff isn't so hard when it's put into perspective. It's all the other little confusing factors that still aren't adding up.

She's not going to worry about that for now, instead taking the Slayer's advice, a deep breath followed by biting down on her lip. It still takes a little over a minute due to her taking care - as well as that persistent soreness - but finally she manages the feat.] -- Whew!

[ through the door: ] When you're ready, I'll take you back to the village. Luckily, it does have electricity.

[Is she ready?

She bends down to pick up the discarded dress and shakes it out. Then folds it, sticking it in the knapsack. No need to leave that lying around for an odd shipman to find.

She sticks the journal in there as well; that can be looked at later.

The door opens.]

... Right. Guess I'm ready, then. I think. [She still doesn't feel like she has all the pieces here. If any.] There's more to tell, right? I mean, enemies? The book-greeter people seemed a little odd.

...So much more. There's the war. And there's the part where people come and go in almost unpredictable patterns. Then there's the experiments. Think Initiative, but with an impossibly larger budget.

[ she steps back from the door, making room for anya's exit into the hall. ]

So...

[She steps out into the hall, chucking the washcloth into a nearby hamper.]

This ... dimension is controlled by a group like the Initiative? Are these demons we're talking about?

No. Well -- maybe? Some of them probably are. To be honest, we haven't met many of the higher-ups. But their security forces are populated with all kinds of folk. Folk who seemed to have started out like us: under a bubble.

[ wait. that needs explaining, too. ] There's a barrier around the town and its surrounding areas. It keeps us in. Presumably, it also keeps other things out.

A... barrier. Right. A strange fellow was trying to tell me that before. Is that why you haven't gotten out? [A barrier keep Buffy Summers locked in somewhere?]

[ with more ice in her tone than she intends: ] It's why none of us have gotten out. Not under our own steam, at least.

[She did mean you in a general sense, since again - it's the number of years that throws her.]

Well, yeah, if you're still here, then Willow and the others obviously are too, right? And - Xander. Where's Xander?

[ and all that ice melts quickly into something much slushier. sadder. ]

You just missed him. He's...well -- it's just been me, mostly. And now you. Sometimes others but it's not worth holding your breath while you wait.

... He's ... gone?

[She had said something about not getting out under their own steam, but...] It's just... us? How did they get out, then?

[ she tilts her head towards the kitchen, leading anya there for a brief hydration stop before she dares to venture back out onto the shore. luckily, norrington still keeps the cups in the same place. ]

Just us. And as for the how? Who really knows. It's not a case of them getting out as it is them just...being sent. It feels a little like a lottery. Unpredictable. Messy. But...[ -- sigh ] I'm dead certain he'd be kicking himself for missing you.

Even when I was really, really angry at him, I could never imagine that there would be a world without him in it. [She really could use that glass of water, even if she doesn't ask for it, just allowing Buffy to take the lead while she ... processes.] What did his look like? His wings?

[It's not something really important, some silly, asinine detail as she tries to deal with the fact that he isn't here. But it's something she doesn't know.]

[ buffy almost smiles at the memory -- so recent and so laughable. ] They were like a...bright and awful blue. Teal, I guess? They were never gonna match with anything and I think he was a little miffed by how much they stood out. And not in an edgy and-slash-or cool way.

[ she fills two glasses with water and hands one to anya. ] He wasn't here for long. A month and a half, maybe.

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