[025 - action & written]
[Buffy is sitting outside one of the window's of house forty-seven, despite the rain. Her back is against the wall and she looks over her shoulder every so often--an uncertain frown bending her mouth. The room was empty and it was going to be empty every time she looked into it, no matter how much she expected otherwise.
Her journal is perched in the crook of her arm and she is scribbling away in it; however, anyone could see her from the path and they're welcome to come get their chat on.
Otherwise? What she writes is in a small corner of a page--nothing bold. Nothing eye-catching. She's just musing:]
Someone going home is a good thing, right? Right.
Her journal is perched in the crook of her arm and she is scribbling away in it; however, anyone could see her from the path and they're welcome to come get their chat on.
Otherwise? What she writes is in a small corner of a page--nothing bold. Nothing eye-catching. She's just musing:]
Someone going home is a good thing, right? Right.