Freedom (Of A Sort)
To Buffy Anne Summers, it seemed like the only reason she'd been podpopped in the first place was to have been placed in GLaDOS right away, forced to run mazes and the like. It was an experience that had somewhat reminded Buffy of her eighteenth birthday, when Giles had secretly sedated her powers away so that she'd have to fight a vampire all on her lonesome. The Cruciamentum, the Council of Watchers had called it.
Okay, so it wasn't that unfortunate of an experience, but still. Forced testing does not a happy Slayer make.
She brushed back her hair and stared up at the statues in the art hall. As much as she did not want to be, she was mystified by them. Buffy hadn't run across them before, but she was quickly figuring out that they depicted the scenes from one's life. At the moment, it was showing Buffy when she was powerless and running away from some thugs, on the night of her Cruciamentum.
Because that's something I definitely wanted to be reminded of, she thought dryly.
Finally, though, the Slayer forced herself to turn away from the statues. Enough taunting. I need food. Or something.
Okay, so it wasn't that unfortunate of an experience, but still. Forced testing does not a happy Slayer make.
She brushed back her hair and stared up at the statues in the art hall. As much as she did not want to be, she was mystified by them. Buffy hadn't run across them before, but she was quickly figuring out that they depicted the scenes from one's life. At the moment, it was showing Buffy when she was powerless and running away from some thugs, on the night of her Cruciamentum.
Because that's something I definitely wanted to be reminded of, she thought dryly.
Finally, though, the Slayer forced herself to turn away from the statues. Enough taunting. I need food. Or something.