First Stanza - [Action & Voice]

[deadpoet]

[Action, Locked to Willow]
[A few moments before Spike arrived, he and Illyria had just escaped most of the main action and a great big bloody dragon come out of nowhere. He'd lost track of Angel and Gunn. Wesley was dead. So now it was just the two of them. Until Spike suddenly came to the surface of the river, cursing as he suddenly started burning and then swimming back underwater again until he could hide under the shade of the bridge. A bloody tiny bridge. And here he was with only a pair of white pants, now failing to hide much of anything, as he ended up STUCK in this tiny shadow. There was a book in the sunlight that was just out of reach. As the day passed on, it continued to get further away from him as the sun shifted the shadows further and further away.

What bollocks.

He decided he'd just wait until the first person came across the bridge and get their attention. That ought to do it.]

[Action/Voice, Open To All]

[Well, Willow took him 'home'. And he rather decided he liked it. Of course, a vamp can't make himself good and comfy without the proper accouterments. So after taking a nice long shower in House Seven, perusing the kitchen, and no doubt making his new housies terrible uncomfortable, he makes his way out as soon as it's evening. In his New Feather pants at first, because what else was there? But his first stop is the clothing store and he's soon back into slimming back. And then it's off to pick out a fancy weapon, get some blood at Good Spirits, find some smokes, recollect his lighter, and then snoop around town because he knows a certain old flame is around here. Not you, Buffy.

Around midnight, he hits up the journal after finally recollecting it from beside the bridge.]

This is a nice little village you lot have here. Very cozy. Has a certain quality to it, you might say. Very Shyamalan-type setting. Too cheerful. Downright unsettling, if you ask me.

Anyway, who do I talk to for the big plan? I've done my sitting around already. Relaxing, sure. Not too fond of the wings. Too ironic for my taste. But I'm ready to go and find the wankers who locked us up in here and do something about it. Champion of the people, right here. Just point me in the right direction.

Comments

[deadpoet]

"Following along again, are you? Fair warning, love, I'm off to the bar after that."

Though there was nothing flattering about going to a bar with a human girl and then ordering a round of pig's blood with a side of otter.

[touchofrogue]

And here I thought it was the tourists who followed the tour guide.

Well, whatever.

"Temptin' as the offer is," and it was mildly tempting, "I think it's time for me ta start gettin' on with my exciting evening."

She flashed him a quick smile.

"You've reclaimed your shirt an' pants, my good deed for the day's done. The smithy's just on my way out."

[deadpoet]

"Fair enough. You've got to save something for the next tour group, after all."

He fell into step beside her, leaving the item store behind. The invitation had been a rather shallow one. Nice a girl as she seemed, his thoughts weren't on looking for a date. Just someone to share a few drinks with. But he wasn't too put out by the rejection. Luceti was full of people.

[touchofrogue]

It had been shallow enough that Rogue had thought it was more a tease than an invitation, and calling it such had been meant to tease back. Even if she'd thought he was sincere, and known that he just wanted some company, she probably would have passed. Despite her currant attempts at 'being her real self' it was deeply ingrained in her that people were better off when she wasn't around. Minimal initial contact was acceptable, but more than that? It had to be weighed carefully.

To her dubious credit, it didn't occur to her to wonder if the same rules applied to other monsters. She'd meant it when she said she'd rather deal with the Spike-in-person; she didn't know if what she remembered from TV reflected his reality. She knew he'd had a perfect opportunity to try and take a bite out of her and didn't take it, and that he'd warned her up front he was a vampire. And. She knew what she was.

"I try ta keep it to one or two New Feathers a cycle. It gets-" horrifying, telling them this over and over again, and then forcing herself to walk away- "old after a bit."

[deadpoet]

Unlike her, Spike was entirely comfortable with being a monster. He lived and associated with them so often. Many of the people in Wolfram and Hart were demons themselves. A girl with absorbing powers merely meant he had to be casually cautious. That's all it was to him. A slight inconvenience, like not being able to go out into the sun. The sort of thing you made do over.

"Well, you've gone and got it out of the way already. Good on you."

[touchofrogue]

She exhaled something that could have been a laugh, "Yeah, we'll see."

Best intentions...

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced up at him, "Any other questions while I'm here, or do I need ta start pointin' out which buildin' was destroyed when?"

[deadpoet]

"I think I can pass on the history lesson. I've got about all I need to know."

What he needed to know was the location of a certain vampire. But he didn't want to go drawing attention to any relation that might be there to a stranger. Especially one in the superhero business.

[touchofrogue]

Rogue was willing to let the tour guide bit pass. She shook her head. "I'm not much good at rattlin' off random facts anyway."

But that might make the twenty or so steps to the Smithy very silent ones.

[deadpoet]

Unfortunately for her, Spike was entirely comfortable with silence. And all too content to take that walk, though he took the time to pull out a smoke to light up.

[touchofrogue]

The silence didn't make Rogue uncomfortable, but it wasn't an easy silence, as it was with those she trusted. She walked in quiet for a few steps as he lit up, but spoke just before they reached the Smithy, "This would be the part where I'd say it was nice ta meet you, except--"

She shrugged.

"Seems a bit insane ta welcome someone to an interdenominational Mayberry mimic run by mad scientists. And I ain't that far gone yet."

She stopped in front of the Smithy and looked to meet his gaze. "But I will say 'Good luck.'"

[deadpoet]

Slash and Crash. What a hideously poorly chosen name for a smithy. He hated it already.

He gave her a nod. "The tour was appreciated. I'll give it a nine for keeping things interesting."

[touchofrogue]

She smiles at that, honest and real, because to her mind that was a surprisingly high score. "That's outta ten, right? Would ya tell me where I lost a point, or is it just ta make me think?"

[deadpoet]

He grinned. "That's so you don't get sloppy."

Always have something higher to attain for. Or something like that.

[touchofrogue]

She huffed with amusement, "Cute."

And she turned to go, still smiling and genuinely amused. "See ya."

[deadpoet]

"Likewise."

He gave her a smirk before heading inside the smithy to pick out what he'd need.