Buffy Summers had had enough of the library and it's lack of answers. She had been through every book possible, and they all ended the same way -- they didn't. All the endings were gone, ripped out and scattered across the floor. It was starting to look like Buffy's life at the moment -- yanked from it just before the grand finale. She wasn't
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"Is that so? This place looks as though it's been untouched for more than half a century, at least. Whomever did the damage to the books either has vast foresight, or it's coincidence. Granted, knowing what happened to the people here could benefit us, and the library is a clear symptom of whatever 'disease,' if you want to call it that, led to the disappearance of this place's residents..." She flicks water from her fingertips and watches the dimples the droplets make get wiped away by the stream. "I suppose it's a question of why we were brought here. To fill the space they left? If so, why wait so long? To allow history to repeat itself? In that case, patience and caution would serve us better than puzzling over old books."
She stops. "Either way, sharing your insights with a stranger who wanders out of the woods doesn't seem like the wisest course of action. Even if you have seen them around."
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Buffy looks over at her. "I was looking more at the when we were grabbed, more so than the why. Alternate dimensions, including Hell ones, usually don't need a rhyme or reason to pick someone up and take them for a ride."
She closes the book before glancing over to her with a bit of a smirk. "Why not? Are you going to kill me for them?" Because honestly, Buffy would really like to see her try. "You're stuck here, same as me, and the way I see it, we're all in this together. Might as well share information."
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She lays back and crosses her arms behind her head, making a face at the overhead branches as she feels the knots and oil in her hair. "Not to say that I am. When were you grabbed, since you seem so intent on sharing?"
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To be honest, the woman's attitude isn't all that appealing at the moment, but Buffy hasn't seen a reason to be flat out rude yet. If she kept it up, though, she might find herself a whole different Buffy to deal with. She tips forward to rest her chin on her knees before shrugging.
"I was having a really interesting conversation with someone I usually don't really like to talk to." She isn't sure how much more detail she wanted to give about it than that, but having a conversation with the First Evil isn't really something she works into her social calendar.
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"As was I. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or perhaps whoever brought us here is bent on leaving the question of our conversations' outcomes unfulfilled." She swishes her legs in the water, contemplating it with more than her usual level of intensity. There's no way she's going to ask if Buffy was talking to a demon, but she is curious.
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"I don't really believe in coincidences." Sure, they happen, but it's never for the reason everyone seems to think.
Also, Buffy always has cute shoe radar. If only she was that detail oriented in everything else.
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She eases herself upright, her calves and feet slightly numb from the cold of the water. At least that takes away the pinch of the cute shoes for the time being.
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Buffy speaks like a girl who deals with her fair share of strangeness, which is true. She knows she should probably be a little more freaked out about the whole thing, but seven years of dealing with more and more crazy ... it's hard not to. It's just the way it is.
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She eyes Buffy, debating whether or not to introduce herself. "Who are you, exactly?"
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