Dwelling :: a Tale of a Slayer.
Title: Dwelling.
Author: fenderlove
Character: The First Slayer
Setting: Africa. Pre-Historical Times.
Summary: The First Slayer and the First Potential meet.
Notes: The prompt was "Sineya, The First Slayer, pre-history, The First Slayer taught the Second."
Written for...
"There was a long line of girls before Buffy. They were once the Chosen Ones of their generation. Let's tell their stories."
Dwelling
The Slayer had made her lodgings for the day. The light hours had no need of her, and she had no place amongst those that walked under the sun's rays. She was needed in the night, when the predators would go searching for their sustenance. She had found a hollowed shelf in the rocky slope of a hill to rest and to eat what meager food she had scavenged. She could no longer remember the life she had before. Could it have all been a dream, that other life? Was she always the Slayer as she was now?
Her dreams could be quite real to her. She could see for miles and stretch her fingers across endless waters in her sleep, beyond ions to behold them. The women who populated her sleeping mind were children, the sisters and mothers of other times. They came from other lands with strange appearances and dress, but they moved like her, killed like her. The Others would always be, forever, all strangers to the daylight.
These dreams began to be as real to the Slayer as her waking life, which was why when the Girl came from the hills it was like any other vision. The Girl smelled not of the flatlands, but of the rocks and the bitterness of the brush-weeds. She had no name, but she was familiar. She was one of the Others from her dreams.
The Girl pointed to the Slayer's fire and to the scraps of fruit and meat in her hands. When the Girl reached down to grab a rind, the Slayer shoved her and watched as the child hit the dirt. The Girl did not cry out or whimper; she stood back up and once again reached for the rind. The Slayer grabbed the Girl's wrist and held it tightly. The Girl's eyes showed no fear. They were the eyes of a Slayer.
The Slayer pushed the rind into the Girl's palm and then yanked her down to sit next to the fire. The Girl ate what tiny scraps of melon were left on the rind with ferocity. The Slayer held out one of the sharp pieces of wood that she carried with her to the Girl. After looking at it for a few moments, the Girl took the stake and jabbed it playfully into the dirt as she sucked the remaining juice from the rind.
The Slayer nodded. Her own time would soon be over. The Others had arrived.
The End.
Author: fenderlove
Character: The First Slayer
Setting: Africa. Pre-Historical Times.
Summary: The First Slayer and the First Potential meet.
Notes: The prompt was "Sineya, The First Slayer, pre-history, The First Slayer taught the Second."
Written for...
"There was a long line of girls before Buffy. They were once the Chosen Ones of their generation. Let's tell their stories."
Dwelling
The Slayer had made her lodgings for the day. The light hours had no need of her, and she had no place amongst those that walked under the sun's rays. She was needed in the night, when the predators would go searching for their sustenance. She had found a hollowed shelf in the rocky slope of a hill to rest and to eat what meager food she had scavenged. She could no longer remember the life she had before. Could it have all been a dream, that other life? Was she always the Slayer as she was now?
Her dreams could be quite real to her. She could see for miles and stretch her fingers across endless waters in her sleep, beyond ions to behold them. The women who populated her sleeping mind were children, the sisters and mothers of other times. They came from other lands with strange appearances and dress, but they moved like her, killed like her. The Others would always be, forever, all strangers to the daylight.
These dreams began to be as real to the Slayer as her waking life, which was why when the Girl came from the hills it was like any other vision. The Girl smelled not of the flatlands, but of the rocks and the bitterness of the brush-weeds. She had no name, but she was familiar. She was one of the Others from her dreams.
The Girl pointed to the Slayer's fire and to the scraps of fruit and meat in her hands. When the Girl reached down to grab a rind, the Slayer shoved her and watched as the child hit the dirt. The Girl did not cry out or whimper; she stood back up and once again reached for the rind. The Slayer grabbed the Girl's wrist and held it tightly. The Girl's eyes showed no fear. They were the eyes of a Slayer.
The Slayer pushed the rind into the Girl's palm and then yanked her down to sit next to the fire. The Girl ate what tiny scraps of melon were left on the rind with ferocity. The Slayer held out one of the sharp pieces of wood that she carried with her to the Girl. After looking at it for a few moments, the Girl took the stake and jabbed it playfully into the dirt as she sucked the remaining juice from the rind.
The Slayer nodded. Her own time would soon be over. The Others had arrived.
The End.