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@griefslaintm
“S’all right. I killed it.” Looks more like he’d played in it. As if in response, the puddle of demon at his feet seizes in a lingering death twitch. Spike instinctively retreats a step, mouth shrugging into a thoughtful frown. “...I can stab it a bit more. Don’t reckon it’s getting up.”
📷 * @griefslaintm (sc.)
“ i don’t know. all those brownstones look the same, don’t they ?”
❛ &. ┊ Never has she found it easy to blame a slayer for her distrust, though is the situation indeed beyond all hope as it unfolds -- focus lay elsewhere, hands too slow to stop the motion & as she feels a wooden stake pierce through lungs only moments after her feet have landed in the moist soil of the graveyard, lips part in a pained gasp; but however pale her skin in the cool moonlight, however unnaturally black her eyes, however much resemblance she has with the risen, does she not turn to dust as her heart contracts stubbornly round the penetrating weapon. Jaw tightens, figure withdraws with the utter reluctance the pain of a torn chest causes -- & as she stands, breasts uncomfortably heaving with each breath while tissue hastily attempts to reconnect, hands rise in surrender. A stabbing wound halts her little; she can, if with effort, hold herself upright temporarily. Talking, though, becomes a little unpleasant as her voice leaves parted lips in a ragged breath.
“ Never meant to startle you. ” A pause; one hand moves, ever so slowly to insinuate she is no threat, until it presses flat against her wound, hinders at least some of the blood from soaking her already reddened shirt. The meagre attempt of a smile graces her features, perhaps a little too forgiving to fit the gory situation. “ Don’t worry, it’s not lethal. ---- I surely wouldn’t mind, though, if you laid down your stake nonetheless & maybe... let me sit for a little. ”
@griefslaintm.
@griefslaintm / * starter for sam !
DRUMBS HER FINGERS AGAINST THE WHEEL . potentials have been pouring into sunnydale for days now , seeking the shelter they believe only buffy can provide . her eyes scan the crowed again , trying to pick out the face she memorized before leaving the summers house . only another moment goes by before she catches sight of her . sliding half out of the car she stands with a hand at the top of her door , ❛ sam ! ❜ she calls out . too wide smile . acting as though they’re the oldest friends . and then when the other is closer and she doesn’t have to shout , ❛ i’m alex , let’s get you somewhere safe , huh ? ❜
@griefslaintm
she’d felt pressure on her shoulder and shrugged it off , roughly , assuming it to be one of the other potentials or , maybe , another hallucination ? the soft , comforting caress of a mother or father’s love , twisted into a weapon ? she doesn’t know anymore , but she knows what she sees . a proud wave out the corner of her eye , an adoring smile when she’s half asleep , a disappointed sigh when she’s showing weakness .
hands that are desperately twisting around the back of a chair cease at the sound of a familiar voice . sam wonders if tonight could get any fucking worse . here she is , covered in a sheen of cold sweat and trying desperately to breathe … and kennedy’s here to watch it all unfold . “ fuck off . “ the order is gasped , shallow and ragged . “ leave me hell alone , kennedy . “
the pleading doesn’t seem to be working , so sam roughly shoves the chair away from her . “ can’t i get any fucking privacy in this god damn house ?1 “
“Hell no,” it’s simple, matter-of-fact. Be alone? So that shape-shifting thing can pop up and say hello? Not Kennedy, ever. The First must realize how stubborn she is, unaffected. Sam on the other hand? In big need of some of that. So she doesn’t move a muscle, despite the heat flaring off Sam’s body, the overwhelming gasping. It’s familiar to Kennedy - not personally, she’s always been overly confident. But she’s had some experience in this scenario.
She reaches out to take one of Sam’s trembling hands, holds it against the cage of her chest, over her calmly thumping heart, fingers spread over her clavicle. “You feel my breath?” The rise and fall. Her implication is wordless -- follow it. Find your breathing. There’s a handful of seconds of silence, and then Kennedy’s curious again, one brow arching. “Wanna talk about what set you off?”
@griefslaintm
“--Can the First take the form of a peanut butter jar? ‘Cause I’m getting major evil vibes. Delicious, evil vibes,” she’s grunting and hurumph-ing, trying to pry open the lid. This is what Dawn gets for trying to make a PB&J sandwich for dinner. The dastardly PB defeats her, she offers it out to Sam with a pout. “Slay it’s delicious evilness for me?”
@griefslaintm cont;
The last thing Sam will see before heaving the door closed is Kennedy’s pursed lips and arched brow. Told you so. It’s not the first outburst she’s gotten the brunt of - as the days go on, more girls are getting antsy, feeling the cabin fever. The novelty is wearing off and reality is closing in on them.
Kennedy’s learned how to deal with it. Don’t leave them alone, for one. Never leave a girl alone. Especially not while emotions are so high. She sighs, leans her shoulder into the door and speaks into the crack. Patient, level. “Keep dreaming, pretty girl.” She should know Kennedy won’t back off that easy. “It’s not a lecture. Well-- okay, yeah, kind of is. But a good one. One that’s gonna keep your little ass alive. At least alive long enough for me to kick it.” Even despite the barrier between them, the smile is surely heard.
❛❛ Don’t you every just want to feel normal again ? ❜❜
｡ ･ : ･ﾟ ♱ @griefslaintm ♥’d / closed starter.
