October 1, 2016 - Unseen
Title: Unseen
Characters: Vivien Harmon, Moira, O'Hara, Marcy, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg (hinted), Dawn Summers (hinted)
Prompt Choice: Haunted
Rating: PG
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 789
Fandom: American Horror Story Season 1, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or AHS.
Summary: Marcy was still trying to sell the Murder House.
Notes: I think the Buffy crew would be interested in the history of the Murder House and want to see if there was substance behind all the stories.
“…and the kitchen is just through here and let me tell you, you don’t see these types of kitchens in a house this old. Complete renovated and modernized. One of the previous owners adored cooking, and spared no expensive when it came to redoing the kitchen.”
Vivien and Moira watched with casual disinterest as Marcy led the small group of people into the kitchen, her eyes glancing around the space without even acknowledging the two women leaning against the island. Not wanting to listen to a rehash of the last twelve times or so Marcy had attempted to use the room as a sale hook, Vivien studied the group of women instead. Younger than she expected, to be looking at a house both of this style and price point, and only one really seemed to be listening to the realtor’s babbling. Even so, Marcy did not let the lack of attention effect her description of the house, instead focusing on the 20-something brunette who seemed to hang onto every word the woman said.
“Marcy seems more optimistic than usual,” Moira observed, her voice soft as usual. “Perhaps they don’t know about the history of the house.”
“They’ll find out, sooner or later,” Vivien pointed out. “They always do, with or without our help.”
The group strolled slowly passed the two women, not even batting an eye at the unexpected beings on the tour. The redhead did slow slightly as she walked passed the island, a slight frown crossing her face as she looked around carefully, as if puzzled by something.
“She’ll definitely figure it out,” Vivien said. “She’s probably more sensitive, like the last guy that Marcy brought through. Did he even make it halfway through the house?”
“Barely a third of the way through before he left. Marcy almost broke that ugly vase she insists on keeping in the front hall.”
Vivien raised an eyebrow at that. “That would have been the best thing to ever happen here, that thing being destroyed. A pity she managed to restrain herself.”
Moira laughed at that, covering her mouth shyly, a habit none of them were able to break her out of. Too many years using it, too much time ingrained it seemed. Though times were different now, more peaceful, it didn’t change the past. Nothing that happened in this house could change that.
Throughout their conversation, Marcy had continued her spiel, her smile becoming more and more painted on as she realized the majority of her audience was no longer paying attention to her descriptions. For a moment, the brittle friendly expression threatened to crack, when footsteps were unexpectedly heard from the front hall.
“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called. Marcy frowned at the intrusion and began walking towards the source of the noise when another person walked through the doorway. She was obviously the source of the voice, and she studied the room with the same inspection as the redhead had before her. “Sorry I’m late. I had a phone call I couldn’t miss. How’s the tour going?”
“Well, I was just showing this lovely kitchen to your companions, and I am more than happy to give you the details if you so desire,” Marcy said, the desperation in her voice almost palpable.
The blonde shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Other than holidays, I pretty much avoid kitchens. I’d rather see a little more of the house.”
Both Vivien and Moira exchanged a look at the tone of the blonde’s voice, an almost sharp tone of a person who did not like to be argued with. It was unsettling to see someone younger than them - someone more reminiscent of a blonde cheerleader than a company leader - to have that much authority in her voice. Still, it seemed to work miracles with Marcy as the realtor smiled in acquiescence. With one final glance around the kitchen, she ushered the group out, the blonde trailing in the rear.
Only when Marcy was out of the room did the blonde turn to look directly at Vivien and Moira and arch an eyebrow at them before exiting. The look startled them. Nobody ever saw them; they always chose when to reveal themselves to buyers or potential buyers of the house.
Something about that woman was different.
“Buffy, are you coming?” Another unfamiliar voice drifted in as the footsteps grew softer and softer, the group obviously moving away from the kitchen.
“That was different,” Moira said slowly, her voice clouded by uncertainty. “She knew we were here.”
“She did,” Vivien agreed, her eyes still locked on the doorway the blonde - Buffy, she assumed - had left. “No one ever sees us ghosts like that. We’ll have to keep an eye out for her.”
Characters: Vivien Harmon, Moira, O'Hara, Marcy, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg (hinted), Dawn Summers (hinted)
Prompt Choice: Haunted
Rating: PG
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 789
Fandom: American Horror Story Season 1, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or AHS.
Summary: Marcy was still trying to sell the Murder House.
Notes: I think the Buffy crew would be interested in the history of the Murder House and want to see if there was substance behind all the stories.
“…and the kitchen is just through here and let me tell you, you don’t see these types of kitchens in a house this old. Complete renovated and modernized. One of the previous owners adored cooking, and spared no expensive when it came to redoing the kitchen.”
Vivien and Moira watched with casual disinterest as Marcy led the small group of people into the kitchen, her eyes glancing around the space without even acknowledging the two women leaning against the island. Not wanting to listen to a rehash of the last twelve times or so Marcy had attempted to use the room as a sale hook, Vivien studied the group of women instead. Younger than she expected, to be looking at a house both of this style and price point, and only one really seemed to be listening to the realtor’s babbling. Even so, Marcy did not let the lack of attention effect her description of the house, instead focusing on the 20-something brunette who seemed to hang onto every word the woman said.
“Marcy seems more optimistic than usual,” Moira observed, her voice soft as usual. “Perhaps they don’t know about the history of the house.”
“They’ll find out, sooner or later,” Vivien pointed out. “They always do, with or without our help.”
The group strolled slowly passed the two women, not even batting an eye at the unexpected beings on the tour. The redhead did slow slightly as she walked passed the island, a slight frown crossing her face as she looked around carefully, as if puzzled by something.
“She’ll definitely figure it out,” Vivien said. “She’s probably more sensitive, like the last guy that Marcy brought through. Did he even make it halfway through the house?”
“Barely a third of the way through before he left. Marcy almost broke that ugly vase she insists on keeping in the front hall.”
Vivien raised an eyebrow at that. “That would have been the best thing to ever happen here, that thing being destroyed. A pity she managed to restrain herself.”
Moira laughed at that, covering her mouth shyly, a habit none of them were able to break her out of. Too many years using it, too much time ingrained it seemed. Though times were different now, more peaceful, it didn’t change the past. Nothing that happened in this house could change that.
Throughout their conversation, Marcy had continued her spiel, her smile becoming more and more painted on as she realized the majority of her audience was no longer paying attention to her descriptions. For a moment, the brittle friendly expression threatened to crack, when footsteps were unexpectedly heard from the front hall.
“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called. Marcy frowned at the intrusion and began walking towards the source of the noise when another person walked through the doorway. She was obviously the source of the voice, and she studied the room with the same inspection as the redhead had before her. “Sorry I’m late. I had a phone call I couldn’t miss. How’s the tour going?”
“Well, I was just showing this lovely kitchen to your companions, and I am more than happy to give you the details if you so desire,” Marcy said, the desperation in her voice almost palpable.
The blonde shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Other than holidays, I pretty much avoid kitchens. I’d rather see a little more of the house.”
Both Vivien and Moira exchanged a look at the tone of the blonde’s voice, an almost sharp tone of a person who did not like to be argued with. It was unsettling to see someone younger than them - someone more reminiscent of a blonde cheerleader than a company leader - to have that much authority in her voice. Still, it seemed to work miracles with Marcy as the realtor smiled in acquiescence. With one final glance around the kitchen, she ushered the group out, the blonde trailing in the rear.
Only when Marcy was out of the room did the blonde turn to look directly at Vivien and Moira and arch an eyebrow at them before exiting. The look startled them. Nobody ever saw them; they always chose when to reveal themselves to buyers or potential buyers of the house.
Something about that woman was different.
“Buffy, are you coming?” Another unfamiliar voice drifted in as the footsteps grew softer and softer, the group obviously moving away from the kitchen.
“That was different,” Moira said slowly, her voice clouded by uncertainty. “She knew we were here.”
“She did,” Vivien agreed, her eyes still locked on the doorway the blonde - Buffy, she assumed - had left. “No one ever sees us ghosts like that. We’ll have to keep an eye out for her.”