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deercountry2022-01-05 12:16 am
CRY FOR JUDAS [January Catch-All | OPEN]
What: A slayer arrives in Trench, finds a hole to hide in and gets ready to start slaying again.
When: Early January
Where: Around
Content Warnings: Will be tagged as needed.
I. (where judas went to die)
[It's been a few days since Faith's arrival, and for the most part she's shut herself up in an abandoned house in Crenshaw and left it at that. It used to be that she arrives in a town and immediately tries to establish herself as the toughest kid in the playground, but she's changed. Or she'd like to think she has, anyway.
She mostly leaves the house to get food, and when she does she comes back with bags full because frankly? Prison food fucking sucks.
One night, however, she decides she's going stir crazy from being pent up like this, and even though she didn't leave by choice, getting out of prison's something you're supposed to celebrate, not sit indoors and sulk about. So she'll find... something. She wonders aimlessly through Crenshaw late at night, and ends up at the docks with a bottle of whiskey and a plate full of gingerbread cookies. If she sees you coming she'll give a nod, but her stance around the cookies is protective. The whiskey she'll share but these cookies are hers.]
They always keep this marketplace runnin'? Figured it'd be cleared out by now.
II. (getting equipped)
[It's been a week by this point, and she's done sitting around moping. She's a slayer, and yeah, maybe she's not a good one, maybe she's an evil heartless bitch who fucked everything up because she was rotten to the core but she's a SLAYER. And there's plenty of things that need slaying.
She heads for Prufrock, starting with the whole weapons thing. She needs something with range. A bow or a crossbow or even a rifle, though she kinda doubts this place has much in the way of firearms. Eventually, she gets kind of lost and overwhelmed, so she'll stop a stranger and ask. And that stranger... is you!] Yo, help a girl out, you know where I can find something a bit less medieval? Like, long ranged crossbows and rifles and shit?
[Or alternatively, maybe she's visiting the Gate, to get some healthy slaying practice in. She thinks these people are wimps for coming and watching the real warriors kick the shit out of chained up animals but hey, Diana told her that some level of training's required before she goes out guns blazing and starts hunting for real.
And... as always, she was more or less exactly correct, and it makes Faith feel like shit to even think about. Maybe you've been paired up with her in a team, or she's just come out from fighting, or you're both just taking a break in between fights but Faith gives you a smile and a totally chill nod from a very chill and cool girl.] You got much experience in this? Killin' monsters n' shit?
iii. (i need noise, need the crack of a whip)
[And now she finds herself at the club. It was only inevitable. She's on night... 8? 9? And she's dancing in a crowd of people, feeling the rush of being surrounded by other people's heat and the music's rhythm bouncing against her skin. She's wearing tight leather pants and a tight fitting crop top that shows off a generous amount of her cleavage because Faith's isn't shy and she thinks modesty's a scam for virgins.
She needs to feel everything and nothing at once, because it's the only way she can silence the rage in her head and stop thinking. She does need a break every now and again, and she drops down into a sofa close to the bar that you just happen to be sitting next to and she lets out a breathless laugh.]
This place is dope as fuck. [And then she'll sort of slump lazily and turn to whoever she's next to.] You look like you could use a drink, huh? Makes two of us.
iv. (winter's mourning)
[She was just wandering about, hands in her pockets, patrolling the area for any monsters that need killing when suddenly she's gotten too close to a ritual that she had no idea about.
In a memory that's not hers, she looks around, alarmed at the new scenery.] What the fuck? Where am I?
I.
[ booker's found himself at the docks driven by similar intention - a bottle of whiskey, getting out of the house for a little while. sometimes he's gambling, sometimes he's wandering the forest - but the night is clear and the sound of the waves is less nauseating than it can be at times.
the cookies are of no interest to him, but he meanders over, encouraged by the nod. seemed like most people here didn't mind company to enjoy the misery, and he's not about to break that tradition now.
besides, sometimes it's nice not to drink alone. pretend like he just might be normal. ]
Hit and miss. Bar in town that's always open, but they haven't run out of whiskey yet here.
Mind company?
no subject
[She scoots over from her seat, and nods.]
Knock yourself out, man. [She pretty much immediately assumes he just wants to sleep with her, because really, most guys do so it's good to be prepared. But hey, filling the silence doesn't sound so bad. She'll just have to figure out if she feels like it, if it comes to that.] What brings you out here?
no subject
It's utterly tragic if the bar closes. [ as deadpan as it is, there's truth to it. hasn't closed here yet, but you know shit's gotten real when the fucking bar is out of commission.
booker takes a seat next to her, far enough away to respect the average personal bubble. got one of his own, though circumstances can quickly change around that. for better or worse.
holds up the whiskey bottle by way of answering her question, nods over to hers. ] I'd offer to share but it looks like you're all stocked up. [ takes a mouthful out of it like it's the first welcome sip of bitter coffee and stares out across the water, huddling into the collar of his coat. the small waves are dark, occasionally gleaming from the lights of the town. ] Where'd you get the cookies?
no subject
[She's wrapped up warmer than she's used to, wearing a pretty heavy winter's coat. She likes the cold, it reminds her of home, and all the bittersweet things that that entails.]
Honestly, just about anything beats prison food though, so. I wouldn't have been picky. [But gingerbread tastes like Christmas, and Christmas reminds her of Buffy, and that's a whole added bittersweet bonus.]
no subject
[ has he been to that shop? likely, but there's a few different ones that produce various pastries, and they seem to change up every once in a while too. he's not all that interested in the cookies themselves, anyway. ] There's usually something good you can find around here.
[ his own prison sentence had been back when bread and water were considered sufficient. he's not sure if that's better or worse than what would be found these days. ] They don't set the standards too high in prison these days, do they?
No gingerbread houses?
no subject
I think there were a couple around, but it feels a bit harder to carry around, so I settled for the bite-sized version.
no subject
I am old. [ much much older than he looks, but he's smiling, and not necessarily referencing that part. ] -- both, I guess. Not sure, haven't been in a while.
[ there's a huff that's almost a laugh. ] Been in Trench long?
no subject
[She shakes her head, and takes a swig of her drink.]
No. Just got here, really. It's both fucked up and familiar at once, y'know?
no subject
[ fucked up and familiar, yeah, he feels that. ] -- does feel sort of like I deserve it. [ then there's things that shouldn't be possible being possible; of course things have come to this, but he's grateful that those in his past life aren't around here to suffer alongside.
they don't deserve it. ]
Got a chance to meet people? Know anyone from wherever you're from?
no subject
[She sighs.]
Yeah, this... chick I knew. Hadn't seen her for about a year, she found me over at the docks. We weren't on great terms, but I think we're movin' past it.
no subject
[ that sigh resonates, and he's not sure if a sigh is supposed to resonate that much. ]
I'm not sure what's worse- being alone here without anyone familiar from home; or having people you know, around.
no subject
[She might be happier if it was all on her own terms. But if it was on her own terms she might have just shut herself up in her house and resigned herself to exposure therapy via meaningless sex and excessive alcohol abuse.]
You?
no subject
[ an imposter - it's an interesting way to think about it, as if one could reinvent themselves, as if they could change who they were based on those who surrounded them. and maybe on the outside they could. he takes a long pull of whiskey, letting it fall down his throat.
this kind of conversation always makes him want to drink more. ]
No one who knows me from my home - neither here, or back there. [ no, all he has is himself now, if he's going to be going back home. part of him hopes he never goes back; it'd be better for everyone, that way. the whiskey warms his stomach, burns at his throat, and there's comfort in that. ]
Some people I knew from the last place, here, though. [ he shrugs, ] Not so much the making friends type. [ if you can believe it. ]
no subject
She snorts.] I can believe it.
I make friends, they just decide I'm a psycho and ditch me.
no subject
[ that draws a laugh out of him - both of the comments; though the one about himself is louder. he's heard that before.
considers her words a moment. ] Are you a psycho? [ a genuine question; there are all sorts here, it isn't necessarily something that will deter conversation. ]
no subject
I'm a murderer.
no subject
[ there's a pause where he doesn't answer right away, expecting more.
... but there is no more. looks at her from the side of his eye, but she seems serious enough. shrugs back, taking a drink after he offers, ]
Feels like most people are, sometimes.
no subject
Also pretty wrong. Most people go their whole life without murdering anyone.
no subject
[ that gets a grin out of him; cryptic bullshit sounds about right. all about that cryptic bullshit. ]
Most people.
... maybe I just tend to hang around the sort who aren't most people.
[ god, how he wishes he could just be most people. ]