taxonomites | 032 ━ [ visual ] / [ location: somewhere in wilde ].

Sookie's holding her own just fine, thanks to a shotgun she's proficient if not amazing with-- she may be a lady, but she can take care of herself just fine thank you-- but she's going a little stir crazy trapped alone in the house, shooting at zombies that come near and talking aloud just to hear the sound of a voice.

Angel's appearance is a godsend, zombie guts and all. (When she and Bill first really spoke, he was licking blood out of a cut on her forehead, and she's a waitress. Jane Bodehouse after closing on a Saturday night's worse than this, most weeks.) And rescuers are thin on the ground these days, so she can hardly afford to be squeamish.

Sookie steps onto the porch with her shotgun held at the ready, threatening, but her face is lit with a relieved smile. "Angel, you're just about the best thing I've seen all month."

Bullets hurt like hell, but they don't do much to take down a vampire, unless stunning them and distracting them for a moment is the shooter's goal. He eyes the gun from the other side of the barrier, keen sense of smell telling him that there's no zombies inside her house - yet. Still, she's on the far end of Wilde, surrounded by the barrier on one side and acres of land full of zombies on the other. It was no place for anyone to be.

"I can't come in," he says. Invite, Sookie? Otherwise he's stuck outside.

Once it becomes clear they're alone for the moment, Sookie lowers the gun with a little wince. "Sorry about that, I've been sleepin' with this damn thing the last couple days."

Stepping back into the house, Sookie casts a glance over her shoulder that's nearly flirtatious. "Well then, maybe you oughta ask me for what you need." Angel's face is worth the niggling thought that maybe she's taking a little too much pleasure in teasing a vampire, let alone one who puts her so much in mind of Bill. "Come on in, Angel."

He thought his lack of entrance gave away the fact that he required an invitation into her home, but maybe not. Just as he goes to clarify, she relents, and the vampire makes a face before stepping over the threshold and into the house.

"You can't stay here," Angel says, getting straight to the point. "These aren't your usual, run of the mill zombies. I tried a few wards out on the hotel, and they still came in. The districts to the east are, so far, untouched."

If she'd been Cordelia Chase, a stern 'we're heading that way' would've been delivered following that. She's not, and the fact that she's fae has always commanded his respect on principle. He leaves things as-is, giving her the option to make the decision to leave without him suggesting it first.

Oh, it was clear enough. Sookie just couldn't help teasing him about it for a moment, for reasons she doesn't care to examine too closely.

"Sometimes I miss the way my life was before people could say things about 'the usual' kinda zombies." But she sighs, shaking her head. "All right, I hate to just leave my house just sittin' here empty but I know know you're right."

She heads into the kitchen and crouches next to the fridge, looking through it. "I only have O, but it'll just take a few minutes to heat on up so you can eat before we head out. Is that gonna be okay, or do you need another type?" She's not putting on a good face for you, Angel; she really is this blase about your blood only diet.

"We can try the trams, see if-- Did you just offer me blood? Human blood?"

You'll have to forgive him, Sookie, he's not used to people being so okay with this, let alone offering. (And offering human to him of all people.)

"I can take care of my end just fine if you're worried the trams'll just be a trap." She looks up from packing box after box of shotgun shells into a bag. "It's synthetic, actually. They make it back home, I keep some on hand in case Godric comes by. But if you want human, I guess I could hatch some for you if you give me a minute to finish packin' all this up."

She's puzzled, Angel; seriously, she would let you feed off her without a second thought if things got drastic enough.

And he's just as equally puzzled in return. This mindset of 'you can't help what you are' that you seem to hold, Sookie, is something he's still getting used to. While it was true that Angel never asked to be turned, never wanted to life of the undead (Darla, he asked you to show him the world, not kill him and make him a vampire), there was never any sort of 'it's not your fault' pass given. Angel accepted full responsibility for his actions while unsouled, but vampirism was never - and would never - be something that was acceptable in the world he lived in. His diet was part of that; people always made faces, grimaced, avoided looking at him, and sometimes even left the room.

"I don't," he begins, stuttering a little, "I, uh, don't eat people anymore."

Sookie is strongly based in pragmatism in a lot of ways; Angel can't change what he is any more than he can turn himself into a housecat or a pair of pants, so why waste time worrying about what can't be fixed? And it's not like being a vampire makes him bad or anything. Sookie's rock solid faith in the equality of humans and vampires may be a little shakier now that she's had some time to see the ugly sides of their world, but that doesn't mean she's changed her mind.

"Well then, I can heat up the TruBlood and then we head on out." Drink the damn blood, Angel. It's rude to turn down someone's hospitality.

Refusal is instinctive, but when Old World manners collide with southern hospitality, who is he to deny her? And she said synthetic. He...can try synthetic, see how it tastes and what it does to him. If anything, there's hoards of zombies outside for him to take out whatever it does to his head on.

Angel grips the hilt of the blade in hand a little tighter. "Okay."

Edited 2011-02-17 01:56 (UTC)

The concept of Angel being unable to take even fake human blood is as utterly foreign to Sookie as her easy acceptance of his blood drinking is for him. Animal's blood's not a real option, as far as she knows so she is curious how he was getting by; but that's a question that can wait for later.

"Here, you keep loadin' in these boxes and I'll heat up the bottle for you." She programs the microwave with a certainty borne of experience; when Eric shows up to bother her, she heats it slightly too cold or hot, but for Angel she'll do it right.

It's not that he's unable to take it, it's that the mere idea of him doing so tends to bring about drama he doesn't want to deal with. Angel lies, and has been lying for a very long time. He's not completely off human blood, because he's not an idiot. He may have forced his vampire employees at Wolfram & Hart to stick to animal-only diets and subject them to blood tests to ensure they weren't eating people, but Angel never held himself to the same standards. The underlings who pushed paper and filed things in the backrooms of the firm didn't have to work the streets and fight, didn't have to keep themselves strong enough to combat forces they'd probably only heard whisperings of in the work room from those sitting in higher chairs than them.

Angel never fed from people (the truth glitch and biting Faith doesn't count), but he still drank human blood. From bags, thanks. People, especially those from his world, would flip if they learned he did that. Every little seemingly 'non moral' thing he did was a precursor to Angelus for them. The fact that Angelus and Angel weren't the two, separate individuals they were thought of as was an argument for another day.

He nods wordlessly and sets the sword against the back of the door, doing as instructed.

Sookie can't see how demanding he weaken and deny himself is doing Angel a kindness, and more than that is fair at all. It's like demanding a human being live off bread and water and a bit of that protein powder Jason used to put in his juice, just because they used to have a problem with eating. Oversimplification and lacking all the facts? Sure, but in her mind it's still just cruel. A vampire can't help needing blood any more than a snake can helping needing to eat mice, and that's that. As long as a vampire takes willing donors and nobody gets hurt, she doesn't see an issue with it.

"When the microwave beeps it'll be ready. If I'm not back by then take it on out and drink up. I just need to go grab a couple things from my room." Like a few more boxes of shells, the book Angel gave her and Bill's ring, which she refuses to wear but can't seem to let far out of her sight.

Like that, the vampire's in front of her, blocking her way upstairs. "I'll go with you."

It's not that he doesn't trust you to defend yourself, it's that Angel would never forgive himself if anything happened to her while he had his back turned. Even just being downstairs isn't close enough for him at the moment. Godric wouldn't be too happy with him, either.

If Sookie weren't used to that kind of movement from Bill, she might jump. As it is she just rolls her eyes and lays one hand on Angel's shoulder, attempting to shove him aside. "Angel, hon, I think I can walk upstairs by myself without anything bad happening. You just concentrate on gettin' yourself fed and watching the door, I'll be back before you know it."

The argument has the well-worn feel of a speech she's given time and time again. (Largely because it is and she has, thanks to Bill's protective habits.)

The confusion on Angel's face shines for a moment when she refrains from lecturing him on how he shouldn't do that to people, like most others do when he pulls stunts like that. He would've questioned her comfort levels, if not for the sudden scent of death and rotting flesh that hits him.

Angel shoves Sookie behind him, rushing forward with an inhuman roar as he grabs the zombie that somehow managed to get into the house by the throat, throwing it back against the wall. "Sword!" He shouts to Sookie, as the thing starts to climb back to it's feet. He holds his hand out, waiting, refusing to move himself out from between the zombie and the fae.

If Sookie's already irritated and Angel tries something like that, he'll get a piece of her mind on whatever else is bothering her under the guise of reminders that sneaking up on people like that is rude and anybody with manners would announce themselves. The rest of the time it's just another part of her life, like Jason's impetuousness or Tara's language or Lafayette's need to make her go red talking in detail about what he did over the weekend.

The zombie makes Sookie scream, but then Angel's shoving her out of the way and yelling for his sword and she just stills for a moment before grabbing it from against the wall. She means to just hand it to him, but the metal feels odd in her hand and that dark and old place inside starts calling. Before she can connect thought to action she's stabbing downwards herself, right through the skull and into the brain with an ease that a human woman of her size shouldn't be able to lay claim to.

Letting go of the hilt, Sookie stumbles back a half step and covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh my Lord, the smell."

Edited 2011-02-17 04:09 (UTC)

The grin that touches Angel's lips would've no doubt made anyone who knew him during his darker, unsouled days (or revival tours) shudder, but he doesn't make any more to cover it with his hands or turn away. Had he been any other person, he might've been taken back by the sudden display, but Angel knows his lore, and whether myth and legend are one hundred percent right or not, he's been half expecting this. If danger and the need to protect one's self bring out power in vampires, demons and other supernatural beings, why not fae?

"On second thought, you hold on to that." The microwave dings and Angel takes a moment to retrieve the bottle of TruBlood, which is promptly pocketed in one of the many in his duster. "Come on, let's go get what you need and get out of here."

Sookie's apparent strength isn't something she dwells on. Other than the time she nearly choked one of the Rattrays to death, it's never really presented itself. What use is something like that when it doesn't make carrying heavy trays any easier? (And, admittedly: it's another thing that makes her other. Sookie's slowly letting herself accept that somewhere in her family tree is something fae, inhuman, but that doesn't make her comfortable with being so herself.)

"I'm doing all right with my shotgun." But she's also clutching the sword tight in her hand still. "All right, fine."

The gathering doesn't take long, largely because Sookie's not careless enough to think a heavy bag will do her any good. She just grabs the book and her jewelry box-- it's empty but for the ring, but Angel doesn't need to know that-- and stows them in a light backpack before nodding. "That's all I needed, thanks."

Angel picks up her shotgun, digging out the keys to the viper - why yes, he brought the car, what was he going to do, run with her in his arms bridal style? (...okay, so if he didn't have the car, he would've done that.) He doesn't like guns, never has, so when the zombies meet them on the porch, blocking the way to the car, Angel uses the rifle like a bat, alternating between beating the zombies off and just-- Sookie, he'll clean do something about the limbs on those chairs over there when the place isn't infested with zombies.

"Go," he tells her, kicking a zombie off the steps. "Now. It's unlocked." ...but just in case, he tosses her the keys.

Sookie winces to see her gun treated like that-- it's a firearm, Angel, not a damn battering ram and you better be certain you're cleaning all that up once this is all over-- but catches the keys handily and hustles for the car without comment. There'll be ample time later to explain why that's no way to treat a good gun.

She nearly makes it into the passenger seat without incident, but something-- smell, sound, the hair on the back of her neck raising-- warns her she's in danger and she whips around, face to face with a zombie. She doesn't even think; just raises a hand and wills it back. Light flares out of her outstretched palm, knocking the thing in front of her a good fifteen feet away before she can even draw a breath.

Lowering her hand and swallowing hard, Sookie breathes out, "Holy shit." It never came like that before, not even with Maryanne.

Godric, attracted by the commotion and the familiar scents and voices, comes into visual range just in time to see Sookie turn, to see the zombie too close. For a moment, his heart leaps into his throat. His mind races, but even at top speed, the zombie might get in a bite before Godric gets there, and Angel is occupied. Eric is behind him, even further from the goal. He'd trusted that Sookie was safe, and now he might be too late.

Then Sookie, brilliant Sookie, takes care of the matter herself. The blast is far more powerful than the one other Godric had been witness to, and it surprises him. Still, he doesn't hesitate. When the zombie lands, skidding on its back, Godric lands next to it, bringing his foot down and crushing the zombie's head in one smooth motion.

And that's the scene Eric arrives to: Godric stamping down on a zombie head and it oozing blood, bone, and brain. Not unsettling in the least, really, especially considering how many zombie's he's already killed himself.

He looks around for a second, taking note of Angel fighting on the porch and Sookie standing by the car. He steps up next to Godric, wondering if he should bother helping Angel. It's why they came after all. Eric had felt Sookie through the blood bond, but Godric and Eric both had heard the other two in the distance at the time. It didn't take any convincing for either of them to immediately head in that direction.

He came to the quick conclusion that Angel could take care of himself, but he wouldn't hesitate to rip the head off of any zombie that got near Sookie. Even if she didn't appreciate or want his help.

Sookie's still trying to catch her breath-- the power doesn't hurt, but it makes her feel stranger, itchy-- when the crack of skull being stomped on fairly echoes around them. Her head jerks up like it's on strings, her whole body tensing; but it's just Godric and Eric, and she relaxes almost immediately.

"What're y'all doin' out here?" Only Sookie Stackhouse scolds ancient vampires like this.

Angel, on the other hand, stays out of it for the time being. Perhaps if it had just been Eric, of whom Angel's never really cared for, he would've stepped in and said something, but Angel has a wicked amount of respect for Godric and trusts that as long as the ancient vampire is near Sookie, no harm will come to her person. Not that Sookie needs the overt amount of protection, as she's shown to be quite capable of handling herself in a number of ways. That's not going to be squashing Angel's compulsive need to play protector, though. He's got something of a complex.

"We're killing zombies," explains Godric, smiling at Sookie, "Eric sensed something was wrong, and we heard your voices not far off, so we thought to come to your aid. I see now it was an unnecessary gesture." And he sounds as if he's rather proud of her for it.

He spares a nod at Angel, pleased to see he's taken it upon himself to act as Sookie's guard.

Eric remains silent while Godric explains their being here. It's good to see his maker excited about the kill again; it's definitely something he's missed. As for Angel, Eric barely spares him another glance for the time being.

Instead, he turns his attention to Sookie, looking her over and making sure she's not actually injured in any way. With this new power of hers, no doubt she can take care of herself, but she's still human, fae blood or not.

"You okay?" he asks, in his usual manner that doesn't reveal any emotion he may or may not be feeling.

"I never would've guessed." Being around Eric is still a sore spot, like poking at a bruise just enough it won't heal; it makes her tone tart like she normally isn't with Godric. She and Eric haven't had much chance to speak-- although, if Sookie's honest she can't lay claim to seeking him out so that's hardly just circumstance-- and it's hard to look at him and not see her porch and everything she thought she knew shattering to pieces with a few sentences. (And he doesn't even remember, if he was telling the truth when they spoke about it, and somehow that makes her even angrier at him. It's illogical and unfair, but nothing she feels about Eric Northman is ever neat and tidy so why start here?) If they were back home Bill and Eric could share their fair portions of the anger she's been holding back; as it is, Eric's just going to have to shoulder what she can't hold back for politeness and peace's sake.

She smiles at Godric, trying to take the sting out of her words. "I'm doin' all right, now. But it's nice of you to come check up on me." She winces a little because now it just sounds like they're at a nice party; but she can't find anything else to say and anyway, the manners are comforting.

What's not comforting is Eric's stare, and she crosses her arms over her chest and raises her chin. "I'm just fine, thank you very much."

Godric resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose or throw his hands up. The tension between Eric and Sookie is palpable, and eventually it's going to come to a head. Godric would quite like it if Eric would learn how to apologize with sincerity and Sookie would admit that she finds Eric incredibly attractive. Then they could both have sex and feel mutually better about everything.

Barring that, he'll settle for the two of them not doing anything stupid or distracting each other in the middle of a zombie war zone. Which means pulling Eric back into the fray and sending Sookie on with Angel as quickly as possible.

"If you're well and Angel's with you, then we should be getting back to Faith. She's more than capable, but I'd rather not leave her alone for long."

Eric doesn't flinch at her frosty remark. After their moment on her porch in Bon Temps (which he actually does remember now, thanks to their hamster alien friends), it would be highly unlikely that she'd be anything but. He can't blame her really. He knew what the result would be the moment he spilled the beans on Bill's real intentions. But she had a right to know and if telling her also got rid of Bill, then dealing with her attitude was a small price to pay. "I can see that," he tells her, dryly.

He glances as Godric while he speaks. Ah yes, they did sort of leave Faith by herself, didn't they? And if Godric wanted to get back to her, who was Eric to object? They only came to make sure Sookie was alive and she is, so mission accomplished.

Eric's refusal to rise to the bait makes her cheeks go red; it's easier to be rude to him because he's always trying to get at her, and God only knows she's only in possession of so much patience. And that bastard kissed her like it meant something to him and then locked her up and then followed it up with breaking up her and Bill... well, when this is all over she's going to have a bone or ten to pick with one Mr. Northman.

For now, though, she just nods crisply and steps closer to Angel. "If y'all don't mind, maybe we oughta get off the streets."

It pains Angel to leave the viper behind, but sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. He's a little too attached to that car than's healthy, but that car went through (literal) hell with him and came out in one piece when most of his friends were already laying lifeless in the streets. And now, it was left to be climbed on by zombies like some sort of playground out of a Rob Zombie film. (What? He may be pop culture retarded, but he likes horror films, okay.) His favorite sword is left behind, too, as he opted to grab Sookie's shotgun and toss it at her before all but hauling the fae out of the car and running for the nearest building while dragging her behind him.

Not until they're safe inside and behind a door, which Angel makes sure to double bolt and shove a table in front of with a good kick, does he let go of her hand. "We should be fine in--"

Sniff.

"Huh."

Without so much as another word, Angel moves past her, and down an adjacent hall. Two more turns - one to the left, and another to the right - and he's met with another, yet different, patch of familiar blonde hair.

"Buffy."

Buffy isn't new to being alone in a fight; it doesn't mean she will not bemoan it now. Mostly, she worries. Who, of her loved ones, could be pinned down in other buildings across the city? Guilt distracts her. It makes her itch to get out of here. She turns away from a hastily boarded window and picks at the paltry collection of weapons she managed to accrue before this moment.

A machete -- dullish, but good enough with her strength behind it. This morning she had hinged apart a zombie's jaw with it -- sawed through the head. Pulped the brain. She is used to seeing a lot of sights but this one is sticking with her. Churning her stomach. Making her itch.

So when Angel enters the house she isn't paying attention to the tingle at the base of her spine. She is too busy loading up a crossbow with enough wiggins to make her slip and scrape her thumb on the head. She sucks the wound, frowning...and bam. Footprints in the hall.

In a split-second, her crossbow is trained on the doorway. But...oh. "Angel." With supreme relief, her arm falls to her side.

Sookie follows Angel down the hall-- because no one in Taxon will ever just stay in the goddamn car, metaphorical or otherwise-- but stops just short of the doorway when Angel recognizes whoever it is they've run into. His tone sounds friendly enough, but that doesn't mean she's fine to just barge in.

So with uncharacteristic hesitance, she hovers just beyond Angel's shoulders, wondering if she should introduce herself.

"Aim a little higher next time, might get the heart if you fire."

While Angel may find his dark, unique sense of humor funny, others often don't. That doesn't stop him from attempting humor at the worst possible times, however. Sookie's sudden, but inevitable, presence behind him stops him from cracking another really bad joke and he steps out of the doorway to grant the fae entrance into the room. Leaving her standing in the hall means giving any zombies who may get in the way they came inside a way to drag her back down.

"Uh, Sookie Stackhouse, this is Buffy Summers. She's..." The Vampire Slayer? Angel was well aware of the fact that a good portion of Taxon's captive population knew about Buffy's slayer status, but he wasn't entirely sure where Buffy stood on the issue of people knowing. "She's my ex."

Because that works so much better.

"Sorry. I was in zombie-turfing mode. Not exactly compatible with vamp-slaying mode." Wait...sorry? Buffy awkwardly points the crossbow just about anywhere that isn't at Angel. "Not that I'm looking slay you. 'Cause I'm not. It's more..."

She trails off with a thoughtful frown. A girl? A...a pretty girl. And one Buffy thinks she recognizes from the tablets. And that way Angel introduces her in the definite past-flame context. There is knee-jerk rankling and no small bit of eyebrow raising. Defensive snark. She knows just what to say to get h--no.

Buffy doesn't smile, but she doesn't close off either. "Hi. You two better weapon up." She does not make note of the gun -- after all, they never help. "It's not exactly daisies and blue skies out there."

Sookie's worked in bars before Merlotte's, and Bon Temps is a very, very small town. She's also the sister of Jason Stackhouse, which means she's seen just about every kind of bristling being introduced as someone's ex can bring up. And make no mistake, the other pretty blonde in the room is bristling at her, sure as anything.

She's about to say something polite but frosty when she thinks about Bill; what if he introduced her as just someone he used to be with, and she can't make herself say it. "Now, I'm sure she's a whole lot more than that." She reaches out for Buffy's hand, rolling her eyes in a way that says 'men, right?' "I'm Sookie. I think we talked over the tablets, once?"

The mention of weapons is fair, and Sookie turns to look expectantly at Angel. Her shotgun, please. "I was stuck in my house up until Angel showed up, so right now I'm just glad to not be alone anymore."

Angel will just be standing to the side over here, rubbing the side of his neck awkwardly and doing that sort of shuffle that's not quite a pace, but sometime close to it, that Buffy should be able to recognize from their afore mentioned dating years. It's a telltale sign to just how suddenly uncomfortable Angel is, socially. There are some times when he should just refrain from speaking and let other people do the talking.

He keeps his mouth shut when Sookie silently commands him to give her the shotgun, reaching for it and handing it to her obediently without so much as a second thought to the action.

"Lots, lots more," she quietly agrees with Sookie -- squeezing the other blonde's hand in only a brief second of support and solidarity. Years of slaying has taught her that sometimes, people in situations like this need some kind of physical accompaniment to the words and actions keeping them safe. "And yeah. We chatted. Buildings and waitressing and...yeah. Hi, again."

She keeps a sneaky side-glance on Angel's obedience. Okay, not too strange. Give a white hat a weapon and he'll make it work. But Buffy desperately wants to drag the vampire aside and talk quick strategy with him; however, she gets the impression this might be way rude.

So, she glues herself to the flip side of things. "I thought zombies weren't supposed to eat the flesh of the living, anyway. It was like...bullet point number five in Giles' long list of things people believe about the wiggy but shouldn't."

The squeeze is a bit of a surprise-- not a bad one, but she was half expecting one of the limp, quick handshakes women from Shreveport give when they're wondering why the help's bothering to speak to them-- but Sookie rolls with it, nodding back and then dropping Buffy's hand as she adjusts her hold on the shotgun to something a little less precarious than one hand, her grip steady and filled with comfortable familiarity.

Buffy's comment makes her laugh, wryly. "Up until a couple days ago I was still thinkin' zombies were voodoo stories, what they used other than vampires to make tourists spend a lot in New Orleans. So at least you're ahead of me."

"Oh, zombies are real," Angel offers up far more casually than one should ever talk about something that was apparently supposed to be science fiction even in his world. "They're not up to par with the boys outside, but they exist. Not entirely sure if they meet the standards of modern cinema lore in terms of diet. Never really thought to look into that one. They never left the basement."

There's something about Sookie and Buffy conversing that puts Angel a little on edge, makes him antsy. He circles the two women-- one lap, two-- predatory by default, curious by intention, perhaps even a little weary. He doesn't understand it and he's not going to try and sort out one of the many things in his head where the human base of his person starts to prickle in ways that are both familiar and foreign, all at the same time. It makes something within him itch uncomfortably, like when he foolishly left Cordelia alone with Darla.

"Real and all levels of yicky. Even the non-flesh-eating kind." She tempers her voice with a kind of understanding. It sucks to take these things in; although Sookie seems pre-familiar with the concept of vampires. That's...interesting. And it causes her to shoot a pointed look back at Angel. Who is this girl?

But in seconds, Buffy is back to playing sentry. "Could you drop the wildlife show act, Angel?" Still gently. "You're freaking me with all that...circling."

"They didn't get close enough to eat anything of mine--" that shotgun isn't just for show, Buffy-- "But I'm not gonna disagree about them bein' disgusting." She notices the byplay between Angel and Buffy but leaves it be for now; in a moment she can make an excuse to go be in the other room, give them a chance to come up. (And what is this girl might be a better question, for the record.)

Sookie raises an eyebrow at that comment, but keeps her thoughts to herself.

Edited 2011-02-19 04:54 (UTC)

"Sorry," Angel apologizes, stopping upon Buffy's request. Without thinking much of it, he movies, placing himself next to Sookie-- to her right.

There's an interesting question of 'what is she' lingering about in this room in regards to both women. Buffy, a vampire slayer, and Sookie, part-fae.

"I can't hear them. Means they haven't gotten inside yet. Wouldn't put it past them to find a means. We should probably head for higher ground, find the stairs in this place."

032 ━ [ visual ] / [ location: somewhere in wilde ].

[ location ] it's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you

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[ location ] you found a home in all your scars and ammunition;

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