makeitquick | 6th Dusting

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[Out tonight. On roofs, over buildings, watching. Looking - it's gotten colder so now's in in a coat and all, but ... restless. Back from the mission on the second, slow to give Summers back the scythe. Slower still to calm down after all that fighting. Winged bastards. Her own wings twitch in the night air- she can still see her breath in the air too. Ridiculous. See her all over town tonight looking around for something that needs protecting or watching. A patrol, in other words.

This is complicated at about midnight. A bizarre feeling strikes her she can't pinpoint he origin of. A great sense of loneliness and need to belong. It's from that moment that she decide to first go to the item shop late at night - either breaking in or walking in depending on if it's open - and seeing if she can find some piercing studs. From there, to the Smithy - see if anyone's there, and if no one else (and given this late hour she doubts anyone is) admiring that's in the windows before shaking her head and walking back to her apartment. The next morning, this appears on the journals:]

[Voice]

Anyone know if you can pierce these hokum wings? They heal it up or infect?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Seems like.

[Repeating the same phrase, that is]

...How laconic of you.

I got my points at the end?

Saving up for anything nice?

Who knows? Maybe one of those bracelets.

...Wouldn't mind eventually earning one of those myself. [ not FOR herself, of course. ]

Think a lotta people wouldn't mind.

Guess it comes down to priorities.

[ which makes her realize, finally, that she never asked jack what he took as his payment for his mission. ]

Prob. [A beat] Got the scythe still.

Did she do right by you?

Always did back home.

W-well. [ buffy clears her throat. ] Good. Great. That's -- that's really good.

I meant 'course it did, Summers.

[ oh. she knows. she was just...awkwardly relieved for you to be okay, melaka. she has lots of feelings. complicated ones. ]

So, does that mean...?

Mean what? Words.

...Well, are you -- would you -- would it be so crazy to maybe...

[ being aware of how very theirs the scythe is, it makes it tough to ask. ] Bring it back?

[there is a very distinct pause - her holding this this long is just rebelliousness anyway]

Sure, you got it Summers.

Not that...not that I wasn't happy to hand it over. You gotta...

[ she trips over her sentiment. it had been such a warm, fulfilling sensation to pass the scythe into the other slayer's hands. something beyond an equal exchange for the sweet little earrings. a gift of grace -- a piece of her handed freely over with care and respect and due ceremony. what was grace if not an ounce of charisma, carefully carved out of a social norm? there had been an electric connection in those moments. something perfectly acceptable and alright.

maybe this awkward feeling now was the fear that melaka wasn't feeling the same way. wasn't feeling the mutual ownership. the, if you will, shared stake in the scythe's destiny. ]

Summers, I'll be there in twenty. Ock it.

[And she kills the line. She'll be there quickly]

[ which makes for twenty minutes of buffy waiting nervously, just inside the door.

why nervous? why bother? what did she care? get the blade back -- be happy. the end. what gave her this slight pause when it came to all things melaka? god, but she has been in luceti longer than she's headed the organization back home.

she's questioning and doubting her desire to create some kind of...slayerly bond with the girl. those never seemed to turn out well. ]

[As promised, Melaka takes about 20 minutes to get there, a lot of swinging and some quick movement involved. She's knocking this out before most of her wing fiasco. But. Ooookay.

And once at the door, knock. She's actually knocking with the back end of the scythe]

[ she...answers the door with a lopsided half-smile. carefully controlled. ]

Come on in, Mel.

[Nod.

And there she comes, inside like]

...Can I get you anything? Anything at all?

[Get me home. No. She sighs and tightens her grip a bit on the scythe]

Not much, no.

6th Dusting

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