Draft Log #1: Before

[lucetimods]

Who: Everyone!
What: Everything!
When: Whenever!
Where: Everywhere!
Summary: The draft has been announced, and the players have their parts. Time to get ready.
Rating: It'll probably vary

Comments

[slaying]

[ another day, another draft. and normally buffy would look forward to a big old bruise-up that she could sink her teeth into; however, her inexperience with battles-at-sea has her all shades of riled up. that along with other pieces of even more distressing news. the slayer is rarely one to doubt her own capabilities but the uncertainty is strong within her on this day.

firstly, she has people to visit. friends, those-who-can-be-considered-family, allies. and the people who find themselves in the between categories. she'll come knocking on some of your doors or, otherwise, will simply burst in without a knock at all.

she tries to train for a few hours in the barracks but finds herself...distant. distracted. pulled down by too many thoughts. so come the setting of the sun, she starts a slow-paced patrol around the village. ]

[slaying]

She grimaced at the vampire visage but -- inside? -- her heart sang. This was a worthy challenge, then. Perfectly tuned to her comfort level. Dangerous and deadly and a very fair match for her but with no pitching ship beneath her feet or dark pirate eyes to call into question her tactics.

And a stab of guilt hit her guts and she had to clamp down on her hesitation. Buffy held her scythe back and stood her ground. It was daring but she chose to open with a rough, powerful back-hand swing. A hammered fist for that crumpled, demonic face.

[slaying]

When Angel's fingers closed around the scythe's handle, her lip curled and she hauled hard back upon her weapon. Her extension of herself. A physical manifestation of her Slayerness. Her back-step was wide and she hoped to drag the vampire with her on her terms and, if she succeeded, deliver a sharp knee to the gut once they got there.

[slaying]

She returned his grin -- a barely wicked edge tugging at it. Buffy played her part of hero to the hilt but her staunch, puritanical take on the job was nearly always belied by moments like these. A gleam in her eye and an excited tautness to her form. She wanted the fight and was ready to revel in it. Angel's matched enthusiasm only egged her on.

"What can I say? A girl always likes to impress."

Buffy circled; a twitch of her fingers coaxing him closer.

i will hear none of these lies.

[slaying]

"Doesn't count as prey-worthy, I don't think. Not when I just want you closer so I can..."

A high block; the leg connected and while Buffy staggered, she held her balance. Reached out to grab onto Angel's ankle.

neverrrr.

[slaying]

And that next move was a kick -- high and graceful, arcing up and around as she spun. Buffy flung her foot toward Angel's face, unafraid of head contact. He could take it. She could take it. It was better if they weren't wearing too many pairs of kid gloves, anyway. Because she didn't want to be rusty and it had been a while since she'd fought someone that she wasn't holding back with.

[slaying]

A rather showmanly backflip -- remnants of old gymnastic routines and always providing a weird little flavour to Buffy's particular fighting habits. Well, weird if you didn't know her. But Angel knew her.

"A girl," she panted as they fought -- blocked punches, redirected kicks, heavy headbutts. "She accused me of showing off, today."

Apparently this fight would include a side-order of catharsis.

[consultmybooks]

[It's while she's training at the barracks that, after a while, she might notice Giles standing in the doorway. Appraising. Assessing.

Watching.]

[slaying]

[ a growl; she swings a sword in pure frustration and the stuffed head of a dummy pops clean off. panting, she turns...and sees the man in the doorway.

her shoulders lift. she stiffens. ]

Giles.

[consultmybooks]

Buffy.

...I wasn't aware that a training dummy could so offend you.

[slaying]

...I didn't like the cut of his jib. [ aha. ] It was far too jibby.