(no subject)
Who: Buffy.
What: Prologue/Introductory Log.
Where: The Staircase.
When: Recently?
Rating: G.
Open: No.
One foot at a time, Buffy made her way carefully down the lightless corridor. She held her left arm to the wall, the chill of the concrete against her palm guiding her path as her eyes failed to. Her right arm held steady to her side, her fist wrapped securely around a stake. Her eyes strained in the darkness, struggling to adjust, to glimpse some detail of the shapeless dark before her; her ears steadfast to warn her of any sound besides that of her own heartbeat or the echoes of her footsteps against the concrete floor.
"Can you hear me now?" she spoke sarcastically into her mouthpeice. But there was no response. "Great." Her link to Xander and Command Central had been broken from the minute she'd woken up in this... whatever this place was. The last thing she remembered was leading a group of girls through the remains of a very old, very unkempt vamp nest. After that, it got hazy. There were flashes of memory, but she couldn't discern what order they happened in. They'd been ambushed. Didn't count right. Bad blueprints. Saw something on the floor. A symbol. Didn't look familiar. She'd dropped her stake, that's when she saw it. But the floor, it was weak. Old wood, rotted and warped. And there was a snap, and... she fell. She definitely fell. And then she woke up here. Funny thing though, she didn't have a bruise on her body. Slayers may heal fast, but something wasn't right.
Her eyes finally adapting to the darkness, she could see a faint light in the distance. She moved faster now, still careful to mind her surroundings, but eager to find her way out of the dark. Before long she'd reached the end of the hall, and her hands rested upon what seemed to be a door. Thick wood. No handle that she could discern, probably meant to open inwards. No matter. Handles were for wussies.
With a swift turn of her body, her foot shot forward and crashed into the door with as much force as she could muster. The wood shattered around it, and through the hole she spied what seemed to be an imposing spiral staircase. She began to pull away at chunks of the wood until the she was able to squeeze through. The full magnitude of the staircase in front of her, Buffy could only think of one thing.
"Wow. Somebody never hear of an elevator?
What: Prologue/Introductory Log.
Where: The Staircase.
When: Recently?
Rating: G.
Open: No.
One foot at a time, Buffy made her way carefully down the lightless corridor. She held her left arm to the wall, the chill of the concrete against her palm guiding her path as her eyes failed to. Her right arm held steady to her side, her fist wrapped securely around a stake. Her eyes strained in the darkness, struggling to adjust, to glimpse some detail of the shapeless dark before her; her ears steadfast to warn her of any sound besides that of her own heartbeat or the echoes of her footsteps against the concrete floor.
"Can you hear me now?" she spoke sarcastically into her mouthpeice. But there was no response. "Great." Her link to Xander and Command Central had been broken from the minute she'd woken up in this... whatever this place was. The last thing she remembered was leading a group of girls through the remains of a very old, very unkempt vamp nest. After that, it got hazy. There were flashes of memory, but she couldn't discern what order they happened in. They'd been ambushed. Didn't count right. Bad blueprints. Saw something on the floor. A symbol. Didn't look familiar. She'd dropped her stake, that's when she saw it. But the floor, it was weak. Old wood, rotted and warped. And there was a snap, and... she fell. She definitely fell. And then she woke up here. Funny thing though, she didn't have a bruise on her body. Slayers may heal fast, but something wasn't right.
Her eyes finally adapting to the darkness, she could see a faint light in the distance. She moved faster now, still careful to mind her surroundings, but eager to find her way out of the dark. Before long she'd reached the end of the hall, and her hands rested upon what seemed to be a door. Thick wood. No handle that she could discern, probably meant to open inwards. No matter. Handles were for wussies.
With a swift turn of her body, her foot shot forward and crashed into the door with as much force as she could muster. The wood shattered around it, and through the hole she spied what seemed to be an imposing spiral staircase. She began to pull away at chunks of the wood until the she was able to squeeze through. The full magnitude of the staircase in front of her, Buffy could only think of one thing.
"Wow. Somebody never hear of an elevator?