laucus
in
still_grrr
163 Fic - All About Eve
Title: All About Eve
Author: Laucus
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 870
Prompt: 163 - All About Eve (1950)
Characters/Pairing (if any): Eve (the Potential)
A/N: The First liked her face enough to try it on... and that's about all we learn of her.
Eve wanted to go to Norway after high school, because she'd told her mother she would. Her mother who liked to comb her hair, who had narrated the most vivid stories of a childhood spent on the outskirts of Oslo, and even on her deathbed, the woman always had a new tale to tell. Playing on the train tracks, flattening øre coins--she gave one to Eve--and bothering their old neighbour. Eve could never retell them quite the same way; her mother had a gift of words that she never did.
"Hi, um, c-can I please have one t-ticket? A one-way one?" Eve shifts her backpack from one hand to the other.
"Where to?"
Eve knows what it's called, but look down anyways. The napkin scrunched has the word 'Sunnydale' scrawled on it. Beneath that, 'Buffy Summers'.
"Sunnydale. P-please."
Eve was six, when her mother died. 'A little cough' ended up being so much more. And there were tears, and blood, and stories about the neighbour's old war bunker.
("There was the biggest monster I'd ever seen down there, Evey. He had more teeth than you have hairs on your head, and each one was sharper than a knife." "Monsters are real?" "Oh yes. Very real.")
Eve moved in with her aunt in the deep south, at which time she picked up the accent and decided that when she grew up, she would be a bird. Her aunt humoured her, let her dress up as a crow for Hallowe'en two years in a row.eve always wanted wings, like the angels had, because maybe one day she could go up to heaven and see her mother.
It was stupid kid stuff, but Eve never stopped hoping.
She's been on three buses since she first set out, and it hasn't gotten any easier. She's still afraid to talk to the person next to her, afraid even to watch the landscape sail past her. Instead, Eve pretends to sleep for an hour, and when she 'wakes up', she immediately buries herself in an ornithology book.
"Birds, eh?"
"Mhm." It comes out almost like a reflex, soft and agreeable.
"Cool stuff."
Eve was three days away from thirteen, when the Watcher showed up. The Watcher was a tall old man in an Inverness coat that reminded her of those movies about old times, when people still used horses to travel. He said his name was Mr. Preston, and he spoke to her aunt. Then her aunt spoke to him and sent him away. He left a card, and Eve hid it in her dictionary.
She forget about the card for a while. Forget about what he'd said about the vampires. About her being one of a few girls in the world who might, one day, be able to 'slay' them. Her? Eve, the semi-popular girl with asthma who couldn't even do a proper push-up and stuttered around anybody over twenty? It sounded like some sort of TV show.
Eve decided that it absolutely could not be true.
Turned out it was.
The piece of paper is hard to read. It's hot here, and her hands are sweaty and the paper is wet. She knows what it says, has the words emblazoned in her memory, but it's disturbing to see her salvation stained and running, blue ink on her hand.
'Buffy' was supposed to find her. Mr Preston hadn't said when, or how, but he'd sounded absolutely convinced of the fact. And even if he was tall and old and kind of scary-looking, Eve trusted him on that.
Eve realized it was all true when the things killed her aunt. No ceremony, no fight. Just a prone figure and a pool of blood that Eve caught a glimpse of when Mr. Preston ushered her out. Then they were in a cab, and he was doing his speech again--the one about the one girl in all the world. Her name was this, she lived in some little town--all Eve could think was that the cab driver probably thought he was crazy.
Actually, she kind of thought he was crazy too. But having robed guys with no eyes kill your aunt was also pretty crazy. This whole damn thing was crazy.
She spends a few hours wondering the immediate area. She feels silly, walking around waiting to be 'found', but she enjoys the weather and, for the first time in days, she doesn't cry. Eve almost feels at peace, even if there's a queasy sense of unease at the back of her mind.
When Eve gets back to the motel she sits on her bed and watches the night fall. Going to sleep seems wrong, somehow, so she doesn't. She lets her mind wander, idly flipping the flattened øre her mother had given her.
If I had wings, I could have just flown all the way here. No buses. Eve smiles. There's a sound by the door, then, kind of like a knock. A thrill of anticipation makes her shiver--this must be the Slayer!
Eve was fourteen, when she died. She wasn't a Slayer--barely even knew what a Slayer was. The extent of her combat training was hitting that peacock-shaped piñata at her tenth birthday, the one everybody had thought was a rainbow turkey. The room is spartan at best, and there are no pieces of wood coincidentally lying around. She doesn't have the power the snap a leg off a chair, or the power to so much as bruise one of the Bringers. She certainly doesn't know why they want to kill her, or what she ever did to them. There is nothing she can do to stop it.
So instead she just dies, like a normal girl.
Author: Laucus
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 870
Prompt: 163 - All About Eve (1950)
Characters/Pairing (if any): Eve (the Potential)
A/N: The First liked her face enough to try it on... and that's about all we learn of her.
Eve wanted to go to Norway after high school, because she'd told her mother she would. Her mother who liked to comb her hair, who had narrated the most vivid stories of a childhood spent on the outskirts of Oslo, and even on her deathbed, the woman always had a new tale to tell. Playing on the train tracks, flattening øre coins--she gave one to Eve--and bothering their old neighbour. Eve could never retell them quite the same way; her mother had a gift of words that she never did.
"Hi, um, c-can I please have one t-ticket? A one-way one?" Eve shifts her backpack from one hand to the other.
"Where to?"
Eve knows what it's called, but look down anyways. The napkin scrunched has the word 'Sunnydale' scrawled on it. Beneath that, 'Buffy Summers'.
"Sunnydale. P-please."
Eve was six, when her mother died. 'A little cough' ended up being so much more. And there were tears, and blood, and stories about the neighbour's old war bunker.
("There was the biggest monster I'd ever seen down there, Evey. He had more teeth than you have hairs on your head, and each one was sharper than a knife." "Monsters are real?" "Oh yes. Very real.")
Eve moved in with her aunt in the deep south, at which time she picked up the accent and decided that when she grew up, she would be a bird. Her aunt humoured her, let her dress up as a crow for Hallowe'en two years in a row.eve always wanted wings, like the angels had, because maybe one day she could go up to heaven and see her mother.
It was stupid kid stuff, but Eve never stopped hoping.
She's been on three buses since she first set out, and it hasn't gotten any easier. She's still afraid to talk to the person next to her, afraid even to watch the landscape sail past her. Instead, Eve pretends to sleep for an hour, and when she 'wakes up', she immediately buries herself in an ornithology book.
"Birds, eh?"
"Mhm." It comes out almost like a reflex, soft and agreeable.
"Cool stuff."
Eve was three days away from thirteen, when the Watcher showed up. The Watcher was a tall old man in an Inverness coat that reminded her of those movies about old times, when people still used horses to travel. He said his name was Mr. Preston, and he spoke to her aunt. Then her aunt spoke to him and sent him away. He left a card, and Eve hid it in her dictionary.
She forget about the card for a while. Forget about what he'd said about the vampires. About her being one of a few girls in the world who might, one day, be able to 'slay' them. Her? Eve, the semi-popular girl with asthma who couldn't even do a proper push-up and stuttered around anybody over twenty? It sounded like some sort of TV show.
Eve decided that it absolutely could not be true.
Turned out it was.
The piece of paper is hard to read. It's hot here, and her hands are sweaty and the paper is wet. She knows what it says, has the words emblazoned in her memory, but it's disturbing to see her salvation stained and running, blue ink on her hand.
'Buffy' was supposed to find her. Mr Preston hadn't said when, or how, but he'd sounded absolutely convinced of the fact. And even if he was tall and old and kind of scary-looking, Eve trusted him on that.
Eve realized it was all true when the things killed her aunt. No ceremony, no fight. Just a prone figure and a pool of blood that Eve caught a glimpse of when Mr. Preston ushered her out. Then they were in a cab, and he was doing his speech again--the one about the one girl in all the world. Her name was this, she lived in some little town--all Eve could think was that the cab driver probably thought he was crazy.
Actually, she kind of thought he was crazy too. But having robed guys with no eyes kill your aunt was also pretty crazy. This whole damn thing was crazy.
She spends a few hours wondering the immediate area. She feels silly, walking around waiting to be 'found', but she enjoys the weather and, for the first time in days, she doesn't cry. Eve almost feels at peace, even if there's a queasy sense of unease at the back of her mind.
When Eve gets back to the motel she sits on her bed and watches the night fall. Going to sleep seems wrong, somehow, so she doesn't. She lets her mind wander, idly flipping the flattened øre her mother had given her.
If I had wings, I could have just flown all the way here. No buses. Eve smiles. There's a sound by the door, then, kind of like a knock. A thrill of anticipation makes her shiver--this must be the Slayer!
Eve was fourteen, when she died. She wasn't a Slayer--barely even knew what a Slayer was. The extent of her combat training was hitting that peacock-shaped piñata at her tenth birthday, the one everybody had thought was a rainbow turkey. The room is spartan at best, and there are no pieces of wood coincidentally lying around. She doesn't have the power the snap a leg off a chair, or the power to so much as bruise one of the Bringers. She certainly doesn't know why they want to kill her, or what she ever did to them. There is nothing she can do to stop it.
So instead she just dies, like a normal girl.