What happened

Who: Evil!Willow & Oz
What: Meet. And it's all sunshine and lollipops and rainbows everywhere! Or not. It's actually the opposite really.
When: Now Like?
Ect: I just wanted to use this icon. It's so very OOC for this log,

Oz: Oz wasn't sure if running away from problems was an Oz skill, or a werewolf skill. Well, okay, so his big problems had started when he became a werewolf so maybe it was an Oz skill that had just been dormant until he been bit. Didn't mater, what mattered in the end was that Oz was running. Again.

He was on the street moving fast, keeping his eyes downcast. He had gone back to his apartment and changed into his own clothes, and felt a little more … human now. But he could still see the bodies. Maybe it had been there time … sure, but he had sure played a part in their death. That could not be denied.

His apartment wasn't completely packed up, Oz did have vague plans to return. Just not anytime soon. So he walked, head down, hands in pockets and tried to think nice happy, completely human thoughts.

( Read more... )

George hit the sleep button on her alarm clock, only to notice it was covered in post-its. Four of them. George groaned heavily. Was Didi doing this? Couldn't she just knock or maybe have a daily meeting spot like Dur Waffle House like all the normal reapers? George was going to have to talk to her new(ish) boss about this.

Making a swipe for the post-its, the reaper squinted at them with sleep goobers still in her eyes. It wasn't until she noticed the addresses that George fully woke with a start.

"No way!!"

All four post-its were were addressed to this building. George quickly looked to see if Oz was listed as one of the four, but breathed a sigh of relief when he was not. Maybe he would be gone for the day and would miss this entire business. (Somehow George doubted that.) How would she explain her close vicinity to four dead bodies?

Oh well. Reapers weren't supposed to have living friends, anyway. At least that's what Rube had pounded into her head time and time again. George took her shower, brushed her teeth, put on her bravest pair of red undies to prepare her for a crappy day and waited.

And waited.

As 9:13 started to get closer and closer (and also appeared to be near the same time that the sun set), George stepped out of her apartment and into the hallway, carefully listening for the first signs of an oncoming disaster.

( Read more... )

The power of soup. Apparently Death made a pretty mean minestrone because she was somehow able to convince one of her youngest employees to go back to work again. Even everyone at Happy Times seemed pretty pleased, though the pile of work they'd left for her to catch up on was not so pleasing.

After five she had a quick reap, and then George could go back to bed. Unfortunately it was at a butcher's shop. The good news was that even though the butcher had managed to chop off four of his own fingers, he was going to be okay. In fact, the fingers could probably be reattached due to the quickness of EMS. The bad news was, the infamous finger chopping knife had been thrown into the air out of shock and it embedded itself deep into the skull of a customer. That particular man was not going to be okay.

And neither was George's favorite work shirt. Sadly, George had not learned her lesson when it came to getting some distance on her reaps. She'd dodged bloody finger man, but knife in head guy managed to get out a few good spurts.

Damnit.

But in the grand scheme of things, fingers were saved.. souls have moved on.. and George could go to bed. She walked through the halls of her apartment and thought for all the times she'd had "slushy" spilled on her she was going to have to work out a lie where she worked at a convenience store or a Dairy Queen or something...

( Read more... )

So Oz had gone from California to … wherever here was. So his neighbor seemed a little … off . So when he asked people where he was they just responded with ‘The City’. So what? It wasn’t like his life had been great before he ended up here. In fact one could argue that his life had been on kind of a downward slide before he had ended up here in ‘The City.

Oz was going to make the best of it, and the best way to make the best of it seemed to be trying to fit in. He felt, if he did say so himself, that he was doing a good job. He had an apartment (with the aforementioned slightly off neighbor but hey he considered himself lucky, the landlord hadn’t asked for references or anything like that. Which was good since all of Oz’s references where back in California) and he had managed to find a drugstore. Which had actually been harder than he had expected it to be, apparently the streets here moved.

But no matter, he had found a drug store, and one that carried a nice wide variety of hair dye. New City, new apartment, time for a new hair colour. Oz was aware that there were some other, somewhat pressing concerns he was going to have to deal with soon. A source of income for example and he’d need to find a place that sold some of the herbs he needed. Either that or find some chains. He’d also have to find a calendar that let him know just when the full moon was due.

But that could be dealt with in the future. Right now Oz just had to decide between a jar of After Midnight Blue or Electric Lizard dye.

( Read more... )

George had taken a vacation. Did it matter that George was only a part time worker at Happy Times Temporary Employment agency and did not actually have paid vacation time? No. Apparently who ever was dropping her post-it notes felt pretty much the same way. No new post-its in the past couple of weeks that she'd been hiding in her apartment. Being aware of your own dismemberment was enough to turn a person into a paranoid antisocial hermit.

And the guy that had given her his coat? Who she later found out through a front page newspaper article on The City Times was none other than the mayor of this town? He was right. George couldn't go to the police. She couldn't do a thing about what happened to her, due to the fact that she was a reaper and there was no evidence that anything wrong had ever occurred. Her helplessness scared her.

It was when she heard commotion in the hallway that George tried to sneak over to her front door. Her peep hole was broken and being irrationally nervous about who was there, she cracked open the door and peeked out with one brown eye, the rest of her being craftily hidden by said door. It was probably just the landlady puttering about, but one could never be too sure.

( Read more... )