first stake.
[Buffy is wandering through the Sunnydale graveyard, still wearing the clothes she died in. Her pants are torn at the knees and thigh, shirt ripped up the side. She has a minor head wound, but none of that seems to matter as she sluices through the fog, stake at the ready.]
Oh, come on. Don't make me say it. [She rolls her eyes.] Olly olly oxen free.
[Just like that, there's a slew of vampires. Human but for their ridged faces, fingers still torn from clawing out of their own graves. She stakes one, turning and dipping like butter to the next. She never pauses, an unwavering force until they're all gone.
And then it's only you and Buffy, and she sees you across the astroturf, swinging her stake like the Lone Ranger before placing it at her back pocket.]
Don't worry, [she assures you.] You're safe now.
Oh, come on. Don't make me say it. [She rolls her eyes.] Olly olly oxen free.
[Just like that, there's a slew of vampires. Human but for their ridged faces, fingers still torn from clawing out of their own graves. She stakes one, turning and dipping like butter to the next. She never pauses, an unwavering force until they're all gone.
And then it's only you and Buffy, and she sees you across the astroturf, swinging her stake like the Lone Ranger before placing it at her back pocket.]
Don't worry, [she assures you.] You're safe now.