| Awful Dark |
[09 Jul 2008|12:36am] |
It got awful dark in the crypt once the sun went down. That was how Spike wanted it, which was why he’d gotten rid of the candles.
Who wanted light in a dark time like this?
Spike had barely moved since returning to what could loosely be described as his home. Not that he couldn’t – his wounds had healed nicely – but with everything going on, the vampire didn’t exactly relish the thought of being the target of another mob scene.
No … right now, merely keeping to the shadows and hoping against all hope some foolishly brave humans didn’t stumble into his crypt looking for a little piece of the vampire action was his main priority. It was one of the typical reactions following the worldwide revelation of the undead; some panicked and kept to themselves, while others decided to take a stand and fight the menace – regardless of how prepared they were.
Truth of the matter was, Spike wasn’t necessarily convinced he hadn’t deserved it. Yeah, it was sort of on the screwed up side that he was attacked by those he had saved not long before, but was it really that unjustified? People wanted to lash out against the vampires and Spike was a vampire – could he really blame them for what they did?
No, he couldn’t.
( What day is it? )
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| The Road We're On |
[09 Jul 2008|12:49am] |
Finally returned to Searchlight after an orientation that lasted days, if not a week, the first thing Whistler did was scour the local news. Granted, the Powers had given him all he needed to know, but it lacked the human angle. Knowing an event was one thing; understanding the emotional ripples was quite another.
The internet was on overload. When he could log on, the blogosphere was rife with conspiracy theories, cell phone videos of various events, dusted-off instructional videos from the 1950s on how to handle cataclysmic events ('House in the Middle' was always his favorite) but mostly, mostly, there was panic, fear, and uncertainty. Leaders of nations did their best to explain the unexplainable, and it wasn't helping.
He loaded up on Jolt cola, cigarettes and pre-wrapped ham and cheese sandwiches, and took the long walk from his doublewide into Las Vegas. Military personnel and transport kept a discreet presence but it made its point: we'll protect you but we're not exactly sure how or what from.
Tossing the wrapper from his third sandwich into the trash, he finally approached Rhiannon's warehouse and made the climb up to her door.
Rhiannon heard the footsteps from her couch. She was sitting flipping through a two-year old phone book, trying to find a single sub shop that still had delivery guys. Apparently people didn't like approaching random door stoops anymore. The fates of a dozen missing Pizza Delivery guys was suddenly in perspective.
"If you're a looter, come back later," she yelled, holding her index finger on a number and listening to her cell. Apparently the number she had reached was no longer in service.
( Nothing To Steal )
( The U.N. and Emily Post )
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| On the Dusty Road |
[09 Jul 2008|07:12pm] |
Hannah Flynn grieved.
Gone were the good old days of Searchlight, when the Nugget was full of familiar people, and the Lighthouse was a fun place to go for a drink, and her best friends were only a few trailers away. Hannah had passed away, but as long as the faces of her old life remained, she had a 'home' on the earth plane. They kept her memories alive. They made it seem like nothing had changed. Now, as she watched them part ways, leaving one another behind, her best and last years slipped away, too.
Soon, nobody who ate at the diner would remember Hannah Flynn.
Thinking that way made Hannah feel downright selfish! But she couldn't help it. She had wanted them to stay forever, just the same.
But people had to move on. People like Julie. It wasn't too fun to admit, but it was a good idea. That musty old town couldn't love Julie the werewolf, like it loved Julie the cute bartender.
Hannah's official business was the spirit world, but she wasn't above pulling strings. After she became a ghost, Hannah used it to spy on Devon O'Connell, former boyfriend, forever friend. Now Julie was on a quest to find Devon, because she believed he was the only person who could help her. Hannah didn't know if it was true, but if Julie believed it, she wanted to make her wish come true.
Dropping in on the living was a shock-inducing thing; She had the decency to wait until Julie pulled the car over to pump gas. "Wow... Six-fifty a gallon?! Cripes, am I glad I'm not driving a station wagon these days!" Whomever bought her old Gremlin at the auction must've been doing a happy dance. That thing could go for light-years on fumes.
[Thread: Open to Julie and Hannah]
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