August 3 - Unexpected Visit
Title: Unexpected Visit
Author: starshinedown
Rating: Gen
Crossover: BtVS/The Witcher (Netflix)
Word Count: 1108
Disclaimer: I own neither Buffy the Vampire nor The Witcher
Summary: Dawn's stroll ends rather differently than she'd expected. It's a Tuesday, of course.
Note: I think the last time I posted a fic to TTH was 2010? It's been a while, and I don't think I ever posted to the August Fic-a-Day. Long time reader, first time contributor. Hi, y'all.
Left still foot on pavement, right foot landed on packed earth.
Dawn froze, then backed up to get both of her feet on the familiar paved walkway that divided the courtyard into roughly triangular sections. Only to find herself with two feet now on a narrow dirt walking path that was obviously well-traveled, earth beaten into a nearly smooth surface by what she guessed was generations of feet and hooves.
She’d lived in this particular Slayer house for almost two years, and was certain there was no such path on the property. More, she’d been inside the house courtyard not out in the woods.
Feeling exposed, she looked around. Nothing about the landscape looked familiar.
Tuesdays, she thought sourly. She used to think she’d grow out of this, but no. Apparently not. It was still a deeply inconvenient day of the week.
There were scattered stands of trees all around, but never quite dense enough for her to think of it as a proper forest. She could see bare hints of stone through bare patches where grass and flowers didn’t have enough dirt to support even the hardiest root systems.
It took her a moment to realize something had changed - that the hum of wildlife dropped off - but as soon as she recognized what she wasn’t hearing, she moved as quickly and quietly as she could to a small shrubby copse that looked to be just large enough for her to take somewhat thin cover from the path.
Dawn was immensely glad she hadn’t worn the screaming red cardigan today. It was cozy and made with love by her favorite watcher, but it would’ve made hiding impossible. She mentally patted herself on the back for choosing a muted palette this morning, and for once wearing sensible boots in deference to the seasonal rains.
Almost as soon as she settled behind the shrubs, she heard voices that carried. She couldn’t quite see the travelers, but it looked like two men; one fair-haired and mounted on a brown horse and the other with bright clothing on foot. Most of the noise seemed to be coming from the man on foot.
She shifted her weight, hoping to distribute herself more evenly for a more comfortable wait, when one of them - the mounted man? - made a harsh noise, and the chatty one went abruptly silent. Dawn thought she might’ve heard his jaw snap shut.
Please let there not be another traveler she couldn’t see. She was barely hidden as it was. The more people on the path, the more likely she’d be spotted, and she didn’t know how the locals might feel about a lone women taking a stroll in the middle of nowhere.
She was considering her options when a sharp metal point was pressed against her throat and growly voice made what she assumed were demands. She couldn’t understand the language, but sometimes tone and inflection were enough to get the gist.
Angry Voice made the same low, harsh statement/demand and she felt he tip of the - what she assumed was a long dagger or knife, based on his proximity to her, push a smidge farther into her neck. She resisted the urge to swallow, because she was moderately concerned at this point that it would lead to injury.
If she could get him to talk more, she might be able to pin down the language, or start to piece it together if it wasn’t one she already knew. She wasn’t sure if she’d been tossed through time or time and place, so didn’t know if it being a language she knew was even possible.
If she could get a read on his face, it might help. Facial expressions usually filled in gaps when there was no common language. Unfortunately for her, Angry Voice was behind her and slightly off to the side; she wasn’t able to get more than a whisper of him in her peripheral vision. His companion, though, was still on the road, looking curious - head tilted and wavy brown hair falling into his eyes a bit - and like someone who was very well dressed for a Renn Faire. She wasn’t an expert of historical clothing, but if he was indicative of where she was, it definitely wasn’t Earth’s past.
She very carefully raised her hands up, open and obviously unarmed, and said as clearly as possible, “I come in peace.” Truth. She had nothing against him as long as he didn’t try to hurt her. “I have nothing of value.” Lie, probably, depending on what Angry Voice considered valuable.
Angry Voice grunted, and if she had to interpret that grunt, she’d label it as annoyed rather than angry. The blade tip stayed steady at her neck as he shifted around her and they could look at each other face-to-face.
Shocking white hair, half pulled back, that had definitely seen some road travel. Scowl. Golden yellow eyes that put her in mind of lions or wolves. A great deal of black clothing, shoulders that looked positively climbable.
He spoke to her again, in his low growly voice, and she sighed. He hadn’t spoken enough for her to even attempt cobbling together information about the language. She could work with it, learn a new language at a record pace thanks to her Keyness. The trick was to stay alive long enough to learn. How to keep him from skewering her?
Dawn took a chance and gave him her best sunny smile. It wasn’t as charming at thirty as it had been at twenty, but she was an attractive woman and she knew it disarmed most men. “Hello there,” in her best General Kenobi imitation. She might be the only one who’d get the joke, but she’d spent too many years as a friend with Andrew; the reference was almost automatic at this point. She waggled her fingertips at him.
His scowl flickered over to incredulity for a moment, and settled back into a scowl. With a dramatic sigh, he lowered the dagger, and turned his body so that he was no longer blocking the way to the path. When Dawn didn’t move, Angry Voice gestured for her to precede him, and the irritation and sarcasm was so thoroughly embedded in the movement that Dawn barely held back the laugh that wanted out.
She nodded her thanks, carefully lowered her arms to her sides, and strode forward to his companion and horse.
She’d have to figure out her way around this new world until she could make it back home. Fingers crossed that it didn’t take her long, and that Angry Voice and his Renn Faire costumer friend weren’t evil.
Author: starshinedown
Rating: Gen
Crossover: BtVS/The Witcher (Netflix)
Word Count: 1108
Disclaimer: I own neither Buffy the Vampire nor The Witcher
Summary: Dawn's stroll ends rather differently than she'd expected. It's a Tuesday, of course.
Note: I think the last time I posted a fic to TTH was 2010? It's been a while, and I don't think I ever posted to the August Fic-a-Day. Long time reader, first time contributor. Hi, y'all.
Left still foot on pavement, right foot landed on packed earth.
Dawn froze, then backed up to get both of her feet on the familiar paved walkway that divided the courtyard into roughly triangular sections. Only to find herself with two feet now on a narrow dirt walking path that was obviously well-traveled, earth beaten into a nearly smooth surface by what she guessed was generations of feet and hooves.
She’d lived in this particular Slayer house for almost two years, and was certain there was no such path on the property. More, she’d been inside the house courtyard not out in the woods.
Feeling exposed, she looked around. Nothing about the landscape looked familiar.
Tuesdays, she thought sourly. She used to think she’d grow out of this, but no. Apparently not. It was still a deeply inconvenient day of the week.
There were scattered stands of trees all around, but never quite dense enough for her to think of it as a proper forest. She could see bare hints of stone through bare patches where grass and flowers didn’t have enough dirt to support even the hardiest root systems.
It took her a moment to realize something had changed - that the hum of wildlife dropped off - but as soon as she recognized what she wasn’t hearing, she moved as quickly and quietly as she could to a small shrubby copse that looked to be just large enough for her to take somewhat thin cover from the path.
Dawn was immensely glad she hadn’t worn the screaming red cardigan today. It was cozy and made with love by her favorite watcher, but it would’ve made hiding impossible. She mentally patted herself on the back for choosing a muted palette this morning, and for once wearing sensible boots in deference to the seasonal rains.
Almost as soon as she settled behind the shrubs, she heard voices that carried. She couldn’t quite see the travelers, but it looked like two men; one fair-haired and mounted on a brown horse and the other with bright clothing on foot. Most of the noise seemed to be coming from the man on foot.
She shifted her weight, hoping to distribute herself more evenly for a more comfortable wait, when one of them - the mounted man? - made a harsh noise, and the chatty one went abruptly silent. Dawn thought she might’ve heard his jaw snap shut.
Please let there not be another traveler she couldn’t see. She was barely hidden as it was. The more people on the path, the more likely she’d be spotted, and she didn’t know how the locals might feel about a lone women taking a stroll in the middle of nowhere.
She was considering her options when a sharp metal point was pressed against her throat and growly voice made what she assumed were demands. She couldn’t understand the language, but sometimes tone and inflection were enough to get the gist.
Angry Voice made the same low, harsh statement/demand and she felt he tip of the - what she assumed was a long dagger or knife, based on his proximity to her, push a smidge farther into her neck. She resisted the urge to swallow, because she was moderately concerned at this point that it would lead to injury.
If she could get him to talk more, she might be able to pin down the language, or start to piece it together if it wasn’t one she already knew. She wasn’t sure if she’d been tossed through time or time and place, so didn’t know if it being a language she knew was even possible.
If she could get a read on his face, it might help. Facial expressions usually filled in gaps when there was no common language. Unfortunately for her, Angry Voice was behind her and slightly off to the side; she wasn’t able to get more than a whisper of him in her peripheral vision. His companion, though, was still on the road, looking curious - head tilted and wavy brown hair falling into his eyes a bit - and like someone who was very well dressed for a Renn Faire. She wasn’t an expert of historical clothing, but if he was indicative of where she was, it definitely wasn’t Earth’s past.
She very carefully raised her hands up, open and obviously unarmed, and said as clearly as possible, “I come in peace.” Truth. She had nothing against him as long as he didn’t try to hurt her. “I have nothing of value.” Lie, probably, depending on what Angry Voice considered valuable.
Angry Voice grunted, and if she had to interpret that grunt, she’d label it as annoyed rather than angry. The blade tip stayed steady at her neck as he shifted around her and they could look at each other face-to-face.
Shocking white hair, half pulled back, that had definitely seen some road travel. Scowl. Golden yellow eyes that put her in mind of lions or wolves. A great deal of black clothing, shoulders that looked positively climbable.
He spoke to her again, in his low growly voice, and she sighed. He hadn’t spoken enough for her to even attempt cobbling together information about the language. She could work with it, learn a new language at a record pace thanks to her Keyness. The trick was to stay alive long enough to learn. How to keep him from skewering her?
Dawn took a chance and gave him her best sunny smile. It wasn’t as charming at thirty as it had been at twenty, but she was an attractive woman and she knew it disarmed most men. “Hello there,” in her best General Kenobi imitation. She might be the only one who’d get the joke, but she’d spent too many years as a friend with Andrew; the reference was almost automatic at this point. She waggled her fingertips at him.
His scowl flickered over to incredulity for a moment, and settled back into a scowl. With a dramatic sigh, he lowered the dagger, and turned his body so that he was no longer blocking the way to the path. When Dawn didn’t move, Angry Voice gestured for her to precede him, and the irritation and sarcasm was so thoroughly embedded in the movement that Dawn barely held back the laugh that wanted out.
She nodded her thanks, carefully lowered her arms to her sides, and strode forward to his companion and horse.
She’d have to figure out her way around this new world until she could make it back home. Fingers crossed that it didn’t take her long, and that Angry Voice and his Renn Faire costumer friend weren’t evil.