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[strangelyliteral]

[Action]

[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.

Comments

[strangelyliteral]

[It's a little disorienting at first, mostly because of her newly-arrived adjustment period. She steps out after Buffy, then looks around at what's visually available in the building, blinking a little. Weapons, dummies...

There's also a new sound, the pitter patter of rain drumming on the roof.]

Is this like one of your special training rooms?

[herotypical]

I use it. I don't own it. It's...everyone's. But plenty of people prefer to get their kicks at the very flashy Battle Dome. That's big-B and big-D, bee-tee-dubs.

[strangelyliteral]

[This face is the 'you're losing her again' face.]

Is that... good? Bad? Weird?

[herotypical]

[ she turns on a heel -- walking backward so she can face anya. ]

Definitely weird. The jury's still out on the good-slash-bad debate. Personally? I could do without it. Simulated violence just...isn't the same.

[strangelyliteral]

Sounds like it cheapens it if you're used to the real deal. Dungeon boy would probably like it.

[herotypical]

It can conjure up some okay illusions for parties and stuff like that. Very...Holodeck.

[strangelyliteral]

But a miss as far as hot spots go in this place.

[herotypical]

Depends who you ask. Some people swear by it.

[strangelyliteral]

[She gives a shrug.] If I'm bored enough, maybe I'll poke at it. Where to next, on this grand tour?

[herotypical]

...The plaza, I guess. I mean -- the house is on the other side of town, so although I could invite you back for mac and cheese cooked with love from a box...? We might be better off finding you some clothes that aren't mine. Maybe some better shoes. Possibly a stiff drink?

[ she winces against the rain as she steps out into the lush green springness of luceti. ]

[strangelyliteral]

... the drink is the dealmaker here. [She'll deal with the aggravation of it being free later.] Whatever they've got, straight up. Maybe a beer. And ... clothes are good.

[herotypical]

We've got all kinds of beers. Sometimes, we get a few nigh-unrecognizable kinds. Other-worldly beers.

[strangelyliteral]

As long as it's good, it doesn't matter.

[She steps out after her, blinking at all of the leafiness and at the wet weather all around. Maybe the new clothes would be the better choice after all.] What is this, a rainforest?

[herotypical]

Hokey, isn't it? Nothing like a Luceti spring to make you miss California's dryness.

[strangelyliteral]

It's weird. And wet. Is the village still far?

[herotypical]

Not very. Look, Anya, you might as well get used to walking everywhere. Your concept of what's far and what's near will change pretty damn fast.

[strangelyliteral]

... Good to know.

[It's not like she hasn't ever been in a tiny village before. It's just sort of the thing she hasn't experienced in, well, decades.]