Spike (chipswiththat) wrote in marinanova, @ 2016-05-03 08:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | jezebel mephistopheles, martha jones, sebastian michaelis, spike, yuuki kuran |
374 - open dreams
[ Dirty your nails. ]
[ You wake up in a coffin. You probably won't remember how you got here but now you're six feet under and awake. There's only one way up, through silk and walnut and several feet of loosely packed dirt. Maybe you panic before realizing you don't even breathe, and then panic some more. Maybe you'll just dig yourself out without further ado, because what else is there? Either way, you'll emerge in a graveyard.
It's the dead of night, but you can see clear as day. Everything sharper, more vibrant, crystal clear, an assault on supernatural senses. Cigarette smoke wafts through the air — Spike, sitting on a tombstone, waiting for you. ]
Took you long enough.
[ A night out ]
[ The Bronze is packed tonight. A local band is playing, high schoolers dancing or playing pool or drinking non-alcoholic drinks. A girl with red hair is fooling herself that she's doing homework in a corner when in reality she knows she'll get dragged out onto the dance floor before long, probably by the intense blonde who's already working her moves to the rhythm. It's a good night, good energy.
A guy in a black leather coat and bleach blond hair is surveying the crowd, slowly making his way along the outskirts with menacing intensity. Recognize him? Think this is a good time to say hi? ]