Once upon a Sunnydale night...
Sunnydale.
Can there be any name that is more inappropriate to a town built over a Hellmouth, with a large portion of the population being vampires, demons, and those accustomed to dealing with the mystical forces?
And not a decent library or museum to be found! I've been all over Europe, and the Americas in my studies-- and rarely have I made a stop in a town so small in size and so great in mystical convergence as Sunnydale. It's definitely a contradiction - the careful juxtaposition of forces that mankind was not meant to dabble in, alongside middle-class suburbia.
Why am I here?
I ask myself this question, over and over again, as I walk these streets towards the address I've been given as contact. Certainly, the letter had promised much- a chance to translate the Dariquian Codex was nothing to be taken lightly, not to mention the promised reward - but I had a bad feeling about this. My employers were vampires- and that did not bother me, of course--- I've worked for the demonic set many times before. But if this 'Spike' was the one I was thinking of... well, let us just say that William the Bloody still carries quite the reputation.
I'm not sure if it would have been wiser to ignore the offer. But oh, the curiosity... it gets me every time, you see. The opportunity to hold a book that I'd only before seen in pictures, to turn its yellowed pages, to smell the must of ages past... ah, how could I refuse?
I had reached my destination. Cautiously, I made my way through the cemetery gates - wading through the overgrown grasses, stepping over and around graves on my way to the mausoleum in question. I knocked lightly on the door, and held a breath I really didn't need as it creaked open...
((Open to Spike and Dru))
Can there be any name that is more inappropriate to a town built over a Hellmouth, with a large portion of the population being vampires, demons, and those accustomed to dealing with the mystical forces?
And not a decent library or museum to be found! I've been all over Europe, and the Americas in my studies-- and rarely have I made a stop in a town so small in size and so great in mystical convergence as Sunnydale. It's definitely a contradiction - the careful juxtaposition of forces that mankind was not meant to dabble in, alongside middle-class suburbia.
Why am I here?
I ask myself this question, over and over again, as I walk these streets towards the address I've been given as contact. Certainly, the letter had promised much- a chance to translate the Dariquian Codex was nothing to be taken lightly, not to mention the promised reward - but I had a bad feeling about this. My employers were vampires- and that did not bother me, of course--- I've worked for the demonic set many times before. But if this 'Spike' was the one I was thinking of... well, let us just say that William the Bloody still carries quite the reputation.
I'm not sure if it would have been wiser to ignore the offer. But oh, the curiosity... it gets me every time, you see. The opportunity to hold a book that I'd only before seen in pictures, to turn its yellowed pages, to smell the must of ages past... ah, how could I refuse?
I had reached my destination. Cautiously, I made my way through the cemetery gates - wading through the overgrown grasses, stepping over and around graves on my way to the mausoleum in question. I knocked lightly on the door, and held a breath I really didn't need as it creaked open...
((Open to Spike and Dru))