The Journal of Geraldine Harrington, April 19th, 2005.
Got up. Got dressed, somehow -- still not quite sure exactly how, since 'got up' and 'woke up' aren't the same things at ALL, and I managed to wind up in one of Sam's shirts under my jacket, which went blessedly unnoticed until I'd found the time to change, but still says something re: how unawake I was -- and went down the stairs for coffee. No coffee. No coffee in the pot, no coffee in the cupboard. Woe. This translated, in my tiny little mind, to mean that if I wanted coffee, I would need to buy coffee. Not an entirely disfunctional construct of logic. So I wandered down to the Cafe Alchemedia, encountered Wyonna, met her friend Jacob, went inside, purchased coffee, drank the coffee, passed out cold, and didn't wake up until about three hours later, when a group of World of Warcraft players got into a loud argument over whether minotaurs were more powerful than night elves, and I had to be elsewhere.
I am a John Hughes girl living in a Wes Craven world, attacked regularly by things the writers of 'Doctor Who' would dismiss as improbable and silly, and I am calling THEM a tiny little bit removed from reality. THIS SAYS SOMETHING.
Wankers.
At home, I sought out Edward in the library -- does he ever leave the library anymore? I think he lives there now; he and Carmen have sweaty Watcher/Slayer sex pressed up against a bookcase and shouting out selections from the Dewey Decimal System. I suppose he really IS the traditionalist in our family -- and brought him up to speed on recent events. I need to collar Nadia and bring her to talk with him, he's not seen her, apparently, since he agreed to train her. Never any good. He's now got full disclosure on everything but the Illyana Issue, and he'll get that once Nad and I can group together and bring him fully to speed all in one go, insofar as the Illyana/Rahne/Rachel triad stands. Lord preserve me from the labours of fools and Masons. (I realize this is meant to be a complete chronicle, but really, everything I told him has been recorded over the last several entries. If you've managed to break the code on THIS entry, you clearly read the last three, since Sumarian encoding is not easy to break without having the mathematical gives that you needed to get from the order of the adjectives in the English translations of the last several days. And to have read those, well...let's just say you've been with me for a while. I refuse to commit that much redundancy to paper. It's not MY fault that you're lazy. What are they teaching you people at the Academy these days, anyway?)
Did chores, did patrol, ate dinner, and returned to the Cafe Alchemedia for a cuppa before bed, where I found Wyonna and Jacob in the midst of a minor spat. Seems Wyonna once again let the 'witch' thing slip -- that girl CANNOT keep her metaphysical ankles bloody CLOSED -- and he asked some questions she didn't like, which turned into a whole thing about sexism and religious persecution and for all I bloody well know they were fighting about the true intentions of the bloody Easter Bunny besides. Why am I the rational one? When did that become my calling? Why do I have to talk down the teenage witches and their SUDDENLY TELEKINETIC swains?!
Dear God, I need a drink.
I'd barely gotten things calmed out when Anna arrived, looking much as though she had just overseen the destruction of Pompei, or perhaps the slaughter of the firstborn children of Egypt. Give her a flaming sword to go with the dour expression, and she'd be ENTIRELY set to sit at the right hand of God, smiting the unworthy. Probably enjoy it vastly, too, if I know Anna. She brought the dourness over to our table -- of course -- and let me know that Leaf, dear, darling, wonderful, amazing, IDIOTIC Leaf, has decided that I should have a surprise cake as soon as I've finished telling everyone about making the Council. A SURPRISE cake. Let's see. Surprises. Surprises...
I was surprised when I walked in on Anthony introducing April to the carnal delights possible on our father's desk. I was surprised when Bringers broke into my house, slaughtered my mother, brothers and temporary foster sister, and had a go on killing me. I was surprised when Marta Wyndham had me locked in a coat closet and left me there overnight. I was surprised when I got to Sunnydale and had to share living space with a Healy ('surprised' and 'vindictive' often go hand in hand, if one happens to be me). I was surprised when I was Called, and doubly so when I was informed that this meant I had to behave as a Council Slayer, rather than as an accident of paperwork. I was surprised when 'Emilia' betrayed us, when my powers were stripped, when we were rescued by her identical twin, and when security was so lax as to allow a DEMON MONKEY to follow us home without question. Very few of these surprises were pleasant ones, which may, perhaps, lead to why I DO NOT LIKE SURPRISES. I DO NOT LIKE SURPRISING PLANS, I DO NOT LIKE THEM, SAM I AM.
Idiot.
Anna had wanted to be sure I was informed before the fact, both a) to allay the surprise and b) to prevent her being blamed for it. Smart Anna. Still, all of that rather brought my mood from 'bad but calm' towards abysmal, and I've begged off home to update things, ponder the secrets of the universe, and do some basic translation work before bath and bed. Ah, the exciting lives of the rich, famous and easily annoyed.
Idiot.
I am a John Hughes girl living in a Wes Craven world, attacked regularly by things the writers of 'Doctor Who' would dismiss as improbable and silly, and I am calling THEM a tiny little bit removed from reality. THIS SAYS SOMETHING.
Wankers.
At home, I sought out Edward in the library -- does he ever leave the library anymore? I think he lives there now; he and Carmen have sweaty Watcher/Slayer sex pressed up against a bookcase and shouting out selections from the Dewey Decimal System. I suppose he really IS the traditionalist in our family -- and brought him up to speed on recent events. I need to collar Nadia and bring her to talk with him, he's not seen her, apparently, since he agreed to train her. Never any good. He's now got full disclosure on everything but the Illyana Issue, and he'll get that once Nad and I can group together and bring him fully to speed all in one go, insofar as the Illyana/Rahne/Rachel triad stands. Lord preserve me from the labours of fools and Masons. (I realize this is meant to be a complete chronicle, but really, everything I told him has been recorded over the last several entries. If you've managed to break the code on THIS entry, you clearly read the last three, since Sumarian encoding is not easy to break without having the mathematical gives that you needed to get from the order of the adjectives in the English translations of the last several days. And to have read those, well...let's just say you've been with me for a while. I refuse to commit that much redundancy to paper. It's not MY fault that you're lazy. What are they teaching you people at the Academy these days, anyway?)
Did chores, did patrol, ate dinner, and returned to the Cafe Alchemedia for a cuppa before bed, where I found Wyonna and Jacob in the midst of a minor spat. Seems Wyonna once again let the 'witch' thing slip -- that girl CANNOT keep her metaphysical ankles bloody CLOSED -- and he asked some questions she didn't like, which turned into a whole thing about sexism and religious persecution and for all I bloody well know they were fighting about the true intentions of the bloody Easter Bunny besides. Why am I the rational one? When did that become my calling? Why do I have to talk down the teenage witches and their SUDDENLY TELEKINETIC swains?!
Dear God, I need a drink.
I'd barely gotten things calmed out when Anna arrived, looking much as though she had just overseen the destruction of Pompei, or perhaps the slaughter of the firstborn children of Egypt. Give her a flaming sword to go with the dour expression, and she'd be ENTIRELY set to sit at the right hand of God, smiting the unworthy. Probably enjoy it vastly, too, if I know Anna. She brought the dourness over to our table -- of course -- and let me know that Leaf, dear, darling, wonderful, amazing, IDIOTIC Leaf, has decided that I should have a surprise cake as soon as I've finished telling everyone about making the Council. A SURPRISE cake. Let's see. Surprises. Surprises...
I was surprised when I walked in on Anthony introducing April to the carnal delights possible on our father's desk. I was surprised when Bringers broke into my house, slaughtered my mother, brothers and temporary foster sister, and had a go on killing me. I was surprised when Marta Wyndham had me locked in a coat closet and left me there overnight. I was surprised when I got to Sunnydale and had to share living space with a Healy ('surprised' and 'vindictive' often go hand in hand, if one happens to be me). I was surprised when I was Called, and doubly so when I was informed that this meant I had to behave as a Council Slayer, rather than as an accident of paperwork. I was surprised when 'Emilia' betrayed us, when my powers were stripped, when we were rescued by her identical twin, and when security was so lax as to allow a DEMON MONKEY to follow us home without question. Very few of these surprises were pleasant ones, which may, perhaps, lead to why I DO NOT LIKE SURPRISES. I DO NOT LIKE SURPRISING PLANS, I DO NOT LIKE THEM, SAM I AM.
Idiot.
Anna had wanted to be sure I was informed before the fact, both a) to allay the surprise and b) to prevent her being blamed for it. Smart Anna. Still, all of that rather brought my mood from 'bad but calm' towards abysmal, and I've begged off home to update things, ponder the secrets of the universe, and do some basic translation work before bath and bed. Ah, the exciting lives of the rich, famous and easily annoyed.
Idiot.