when you called, your voice was so grave...

[neverdamseling]

Meeting up with Dean hadn't taken long. He warned her to take care of his guns, she'd promised to do so, there was mutual luck-wishing, and she was off. The video's ingrained in her mind, playing on repeat when she sleeps and burning a hole in her psyche. It's horrific, the things that man did - what he's capable of, and Buffy is well aware of the

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[neveravictim04]

Buffy has a stalker.

Medusa did not intend to be a stalker - but while patrolling the streets herself, she saw a girl her size with very, very impressive weaponry.

After the recent events, Medusa is unsure whether she should trust this girl or not. She does not wish to have to physically attack or harm her - unless, of course, she is harming someone else - but she wants to get close enough to see that scythe better. She wants to ask where this girl got it. And what her training has been.

But first, she supposes, she must ask if she is a Wanderer or not.

"Girl!" The call comes in the park, when it feels to Medusa that they are alone and unlikely to be disturbed. It is not loud, or hushed, but a normal volume and firm.

Medusa approaches her warily, but with authority, spine straight. The girl will know that she is in the presence of one who is powerful. And if she does not show the proper respect, well, she will be taught"Are you a Wanderer?" Medusa eyes her, looks her up and down. "I care not for your guns - but your other

[neverdamseling]

Buffy's head turns immediately, and the first thing she does is reach for a weapon. She's just as proud, standing just as tall. Okay, not in the literal sense, but there's nothing about her that isn't commanding in presence. She doesn't take the feeling of power lightly, but she's not worried, either. "I am."

Immediately, with what that video's content was, she's on the alert. It's a strange question to ask right off the bat. She's at the ready, prepared to reach for a weapon if necessary at the bat of a lash. "My Scythe is from home."

[neveravictim04]

Medusa is immediately pleased by the girl. She's fast. And obviously mistrusting. Medusa can sense some power here, in this girl, and it intrigues her further. She takes a few steps forward.

"You have no need to trust me, I know, but I am a Wanderer and I wish you no harm," Medusa says carefully, keeping her eyes on that scythe. Those eyes, Buffy? They may be glinting with a greedy light.

"Where is home?" Medusa asks, and she grins a little. She's expecting that to be impressive, too. She takes a couple more steps forward. "And are you also here to clean the streets of scum?"

Take that ... any way you want to, Buffy.

[neverdamseling]

She lowers her weapon just a slight few inches as the woman assures her there's no ill will or intent from her. "Fine. Have a name?" Buffy's still suspicious, just less on edge.

"Home's California. Apparently in another dimension," she says, not really getting what's so amusing about asking someone about the home they've been ripped away from. "And yeah. I'm here to keep people safe. Fight the big evil, the whole nine yards."

[princerat]

Saul had been affected by the video himself, and had also been on a patrol, of sorts, crawling the roofs and the sewers and streets, listening for trouble. He just wanted to be doing something. He'd ended up about a block away from the park, and maybe because he was looking for trouble, he eventually found it. As he stood on a rooftop, the Rift had dropped a creature nearly on top of his head. It was bigger than a horse, with six legs each ending in curved talons. It had a face like an anglerfish that was all teeth, and razor spikes all along its back. And it had come through angry. He fought it, with teeth and claws and no weapons, until he'd physically ripped it to shreds. It had screamed when it died.

He left the pieces of it behind him on the roof, dropped to the street and turned the corner. It's the first thing he's killed entirely on his own. Besides just his want to make the city a bit safer, he'd also sought this out in an effort to relieve stress; that selfish motive makes him feel sort of bad about what he's done. Despite

[neverdamseling]

Buffy can sense the presence of someone unknown. Someone she's never met. She's not getting any vibes from whatever it is that she should be frightened or threatened in any manner, so she continues on normally. She just keeps her eyes peeled. When she catches sight of the man - or, what she assumes to be a man - her approach becomes more cautious. He's acting very strangely, as if he's paranoid about something. Up to something. She tries not to assume too much, but with what she's just seen? She figures she can't be too careful.

Her pace slows, and she furrows her brow and squints to get a better look as she grows nearer. Her head cants to the side; the closer the gets, the stranger he seems. But... not dangerous. Just... weird. "Uh," she starts, walking up to him, "Hi?" She thinks it's weird that he's stopped, frozen like a deer in headlights, just because she's there.

[princerat]

To Saul, she looks like she's up to something as well. But whatever that something is, the important part is it hasn't involved her and him and fighting. That's just fine for right now, because he's not up to it, and he doesn't like having to run away from anything. He forces his posture to relax just a bit out of fight-or-flight mode. And out of a sense of politeness he even attempts to wipe the blood from his mouth, but his hand is just as bloody so that doesn't work out so well. It simply mixes with the rest of the dirt on his countenance to make an even sticky coating.

"Hi." His voice is just a bit too deep, with a slithering quality to it. Subtly inhuman, also British, with overtones of exhaustion.

"You have a lot of fucking weaponry," he comments casually. It's hard to come back from the full on animalistic state of ripping something apart to the higher-brain task of human conversation (especially for something like him that's only half-human to begin with), and so that's truly the best he's got for the moment.

[neverdamseling]

The blood catches her eye, makes her stop... She has to do a double-take. He doesn't seem like a vampire. Then again, this place? Assuming he's not a vampire just because he doesn't seem like one would be nothing but stupid. She wrinkles her nose. He's kind of unseemly.

His voice gives her a little chill, too. It's weird, and unearthly, but... Still, somehow, doesn't send up red 'kill it!' flags in her mind.

"Yeah," she says, chuckling wryly and shaking her head. "I'm patrolling. Need weaponry to protect myself. To fight, y'know, whatever the Rift spits out, and those sick freaks that plastered that video everywhere..." Buffy steps a little closer.

"Y'know, come to think of it, you're probably not really safe out here unarmed."

[tempered_scars]

Wes is of the same mind as Buffy. He was already part of the patrolling committee established by his ward, Martha Jones, but even that doesn't seem like enough these days. He's been trained by soldiers, he's got the angel strength, he might as well put it to good use whenever he's not needed as Guardian.

He's ambled past the more isolated sections of Grant Park. He's learned from past experience that's where the Rift likes spitting up most of its monsters.

There's the occasional water monster down at Navy Pier. Not a whole lot of fun.

In about two point five seconds, the quiet street Buffy's found will not be so quiet. A ten foot slime has found its way there, and Wes is charging toward it.

His own weapons are drawn, and he's lunging for the monster with what strength and speed he possesses. His wings are out and mercy's nowhere to be found.

It's no member of the CLF, it's nothing he can really take all of his anger out at, but it's something.

[neverdamseling]

Oh, look, a ten foot slime. Buffy sees it, a man, and wings. That's about all she needs to see before she's got the Scythe off of the strapped place on her back. Careful to aim properly, she flips it, one-handed, to hold it at the staked end with the hilt, and takes a swing for the disgusting creature. The blade slices... whatever amorphous substance this thing is made of, but doesn't do any fatal damage.

This proves very irritating.

[tempered_scars]

"Try aiming for a vital organ!"

Wes sees it, too. Mainly, the Sycthe. If he wasn't battling a ten foot slime he'd be impressed as hell by the weaponry the woman's carrying. As it is, he's actually climbing on its back and trying to...saw off whatever he can with his own weapon.

It's irritating, and a slow process, but it moves just as slowly so they have an edge there.

[neverdamseling]

"Got it!"

Buffy takes a jump back before swinging the Scythe, stake end pointing toward the beast, and lunging forward with it. It manages to hit something that sends the slime into some... weird semblance of howling pain, but not enough to kill it. She withdraws her weapon with a messy slurp and tries again, in a different spot.