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First Stanza - [Action & Voice]
[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.
[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.
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.
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In silent films, no one can hear your victims scream.
"But this means you'll know what I'm looking for. Convenient, that."
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She looked ahead to the Clothing Shop. "Your gear might have shown up - it might not. Took almost a month for my uniform ta show."
She hadn't really anticipated helping him find what he wanted to wear - honestly, finding out what she needed to and delivering what she felt was important information so easily and relatively smoothly had thrown her a bit off balance.
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He opened the door to the clothing shop, letting himself on in. And then taking the time to locate the light switch. Seems there weren't that many late night shoppers.
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"An' that's right. No money here. It's all - good will and optimism, until someone comes in and tries to take it all away."
...she might have become slightly jaded recently. The Kin'corans had no right to do what they did, and they'd absolutely trashed her Item Shop, but it was what it was.
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It was his coat he was concerned with most. When it came to pants, to a shirt, or a pair of boots, he could care less. As long as they were black and fit, that was the important part. Thus, they were not the first thing he was looking for.
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Finding a pair of trousers he liked, he tossed it over his shoulder.
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...she is having this conversation with Spike.
"It's a mix of science an' - whatever strange thing that gives us wings when we show up here."
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...also, helping Spike pick out his clothes was too weird for her. She stopped looking.
"You saw the bar codes?"
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"Bar codes? For what? You just said this was all free."
All the same, he was now looking for a tag on the clothing.
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"For us."
There was reckless and then there was just plain stupid, and Rogue wasn't sure what this was. But he couldn't see in mirrors and she had a feeling he wouldn't just take her word for it. Two years in Luceti had given Rogue fine motor-control over her wings, and she folded them flat against her back, their ironically angelic white feathers shimmering in the electric light as she turned.
She glanced at him from over her shoulder, frowning a little. "Don't come too close."
And she flicked one gloved hand up under her short reddish-brown hair to bare the back of her neck and reveal the bar code.
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For his part, he muttered out a 'bloody hell' and backed away.
"So I've got one of those stamped on my neck too? Well, that's fantastic. It's back to high collars again, isn't it?"
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And if he did, well. Then she'd know that the TV show hadn't gotten everything right.
She dropped her hand and shifted so that she was facing him and unfurled her wings. "Welcome ta Luceti."
Yup. It just sucks that much.
The fact that he didn't come too close, though? Oh, and that she was still standing and feeling fine? Definite points in his favor.
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He finally found his coat and pulled it up, inspecting it carefully. It was the new one he received in Rome. It was nice, but he still missed the old one. The jacket he pried off a dead slayer he killed.
A champion of the people really shouldn't be so sentimental over that.
"Dressing rooms in the back, right?"
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"Knock yourself out."
And she debated saying her 'good night.'
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But she told herself it was because she was distracted by a new collection of mesh and sheer shirts. Good thing she still had her bag with her. She was holding a dark blue pressed against her dress in front of the mirror to get a good guess at the size when Spike came out.
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"Decided to stick around, did you?"
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Southern gentility just dripped from her tone. She was amused at herself, because the manner in which she was taught and the manner she so often conducts herself happen are so contrary. But she took an almost perverse satisfaction in following those rules Mystique and Destiny drilled into her - when she could pick and choose doing so. As if to say 'Look, I got something good out of it. You didn't just wreck me. Despite what you did, I am who I am, and I got something out of it too.'
Shirt safely tucked into her bag with her other finds, Rogue shrugged. "'sides, I thought I'd stick around ta make sure you were pointed in the right direction 'fore I got on with my night."
This entire thing had been so odd, compounded with Ororo's arrival and other recent Luceti developments that she felt the need for some stress relief. Maybe a nice brawl in the Battle Dome, or maybe she'd be a good girl and do a routine.
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Sarcastic, but not condescending. He is, in his own way, grateful for the help. It just comes disguised in snark and mild derision. As it is, he heads towards the door. He has to collect a few other things before the night's over.
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"You forgot walkin' grannies across the street. It's all part an' parcel of the whole spandex gig."
She fell into step behind him, but paused at the door. "So are we at the 'give directions' part of our evenin', or do ya still need a guided tour?"
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He stepped into the cool night air, glad to finally be good and properly dressed up again.
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"Tour guide it is, then."
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