This is Halloween, everybody make a scene!

[lucetimods]

Who: Everyone
What: HALLOWEENIES
When: Halloween day, 8AM onward
Where: Luceti?
Summary: Everyone wakes up from their Moon!Coma and oh by the way, it's Halloween
Rating: Fluffy

Comments

house seven; waking up horrors

[slaying]

[ it is a crash of thunder that wakes her up -- or almost wakes her up. buffy fights against consciousness with a newly entrenched guilt that wants to keep her deep asleep. waking up brings realization. realization brings coping. she doesn't want to cope again. not yet.

the slayer, tucked in tight amongst a crumbling couch-cushion fort, reaches for the pirate that she fell asleep with. no. not with. after. jack had been asleep for a brief piece of time before archie and horatio had come and she had...

there had been a mask. why had she put it on? it had seemed so...comforting, at the time. as she had watched the moon through the window, she had felt drawn to the queen's mask. anything to to try and solve the problem at hand. and then she had...

jilly. buffy screws her eyes shut; she doesn't want to face the reality. not yet. ]

[slaying]

"I...I let her go. I didn't -- I left you sleeping. If I were in your boots, I'd blame me. Heck. I'm outside of your boots and I'm still blaming me."

[lists_to_port]

"She's safe, is she not? You were shifted? There is no blame to lay."

[slaying]

No reply. None verbal, at least. Not yet. Buffy stepped back to the window -- wings brushing the glass -- and left him to his leaving. She wouldn't argue for the right to blame herself when she felt it was her right inherently.

Then: "Just tell me you're coming back and...and then? The sooner you go, the sooner the coming back'll happen."

1/2

[lists_to_port]

[lists_to_port]

It didn't take long at all to unbutton that long frock coat and toss it toward the cushion-bare couch and swear softly when it missed and tumbled to the floor in a jumbled lump.

[slaying]

"...You're not going out there without a jacket. Bones'd freak, if he was--"

Buffy knew for damn certain that going-out-there-without-a-jacket was not the purpose of unbuttoning it and throwing it aside. She was hitting the willful ignorance a little hard this morning.

[lists_to_port]

The pirate folded his arms and frowned at her.

"I'm not going out there without a jacket; that is exactly correct, and may Bones have mercy on my soul should I ever choose otherwise. Do you mind explaining to me what the devil you're about, Buffy Summers? This talk of 'O Will You Come Back, Jack'?"

[slaying]

A name. A surname. And used right now? She flinched from surprise and not from insult.

"I messed up -- mask or no mask. And you're going away. I just wanna make sure that going away includes a return. Today. There. Explained."

[lists_to_port]

Oh, bugger. Jack strode toward her and seized her firmly by the shoulders. "And what if it did not involve and or include said return. What then, eh?" It was a bit of a cruel question, but that Buffy Summers had reached a point where her perceived wronging of him would then lead to his desertion? That floored him.

[slaying]

Oh. She didn't seem to like that. Nope, not one bit. She wrenched her shoulders in his hands with one sharp twist of her upper body -- not breaking free but stubbornly asserting her ability to do so if she chose. More for her benefit than his.

Just like all of this worrying was a truly selfish affair. In the raw wake of realizing what she had done under the mask's advisement, she felt as though she was due some sort of punishment over putting the thing on in the first place. A hypothetical desertion was...convenient.

"Then..." She was huffy. Perplexed. A little bit like a scolded schoolkid being forced to pick the cost of their mistake. "Then I'd have ice-cream for breakfast. Listen to a Dashboard Confessional album. And then hunt you down."

[lists_to_port]

"That's......terrifying, actually." He let go of her shoulders at that wrench, reaching round to settle his hands on her wings instead. Upping the stakes a bit.

[slaying]

"You have no idea. The song stylings of Chris Carrabba would make an angel reach for the Zoloft."

Feathers. Feathers complicated things. She couldn't sharply tug free without pain. Backwards there was only the window. Forwards, there was him.

Him it was, then. She stepped closer.

[lists_to_port]

"I am going--" he smoothed out one feather to the tip--"to look after my Joanna Joyce. Check on Cullen House. And then I am going to come back to you."

[slaying]

Such attentions managed to draw Buffy up to her fully height. Squared shoulders. The absolute cusp of a shiver. It wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to do but the wings were always a weakness. Doubly so under Jack's fingers. After all, the wings -- both pairs, his and hers -- were set apart from anything home-related.

She lifted one hand, still in a loose fist, and stuck out her smallest finger. "Pinky swear it."

[lists_to_port]

Jack hooked his finger around hers. "You know this sort of oath-taking doesn't mean much to a dishonest man, do you not?"