Alice Sharrow (girlofprophecy) wrote in childofeden_rp, @ 2014-01-16 18:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: ambrose, character: buffy summers, character: lucius anguis (dropped), location: ambrose house, thread: complete, |week: 07, ~date: 08/august 22 |
WHO: Lucius and Buffy, Ambrose too
WHERE: Ambrose's House
WHEN: Week 7. Thursday Late Morning
WHY: Best friends catching up in a totally chill and relaxed setting that isn't at all tense in any way!
WARNINGS: Language, mention of previous violence in the house, and some actual violence now
Buffy hadn't been able to sleep for long after the events of the previous night. She'd mechanically showered and gone about her exercises before heading back downstairs again much earlier than she usually rose. She hadn't even paid much attention to what she'd put on, pulling on a simple pair of jeans and long-sleeved, white shirt. She tied her hair back into a high ponytail before bounding back downstairs. She didn't move sluggishly at all. There wouldn't be any sign that she'd lost any blood since Ambrose had healed her, and a few hours rest was enough for a Slayer to equal hours needed for a normal human. She'd only decided to show herself when she was sure she looked 100% normal. If the witch-formerly-known-as-Daniel was around, he was probably still too perceptive for his own good, and she had no wish to talk to him about what had happened in he pried.
In reality, she was a million miles away as she ignored breakfast to plop down on the couch. She had no idea where she stood with Ambrose after what had happened the night before. Buffy didn't regret it. She'd assured herself that she was doing the right thing. Ambrose would've never forgiven himself if he'd lost control and hurt someone. Well, aside from Lucius probably. If she'd done the right thing for everyone by giving him her blood, why did she feel so conflicted about it. Maybe she was worried that he'd hate her for it, that he wouldn't understand why she'd insisted. This was what she hated sometimes, being left alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Said thoughts were terrible house guests, she pouted silently as she curled up in a little ball of Buffy at one end of the couch and waited for someone, somewhere in the house to stir.