taxonomites | seven [ VISUAL ✝ LOCATION: THE NORTHERN ISLAND ]

There is a saying: I'll sleep when I'm dead. Or maybe that's a Bon Jovi song. Either way -- Buffy is not currently dead but she is currently asleep; however, she has tended to do a bit more of the former than the later in her so far brutal but miraculously long (for a Slayer) life. And while asleep, the Slayer dreams. Terrible, horrible dreams that aren't so much dreams as memories. Recollections of girls from other times. Most often, Buffy sees how they died. Perhaps she should alter that saying to they'll die while I sleep.

Dreary thoughts.

But the morning breaks and Buffy shuts her eyes even tighter against the prospect of facing yet another day in this prison city. Maybe she can talk Dawn into going shopping although things had been turbulent with the younger sister since...well, she doesn't want to think about sleeping with Angel right now. That is the bad kind of thought-path that leads to smiles and relapses. And she wants neither of those things right now.

Except...except the memory of being with her ex is so fresh that she could almost imagine feeling his glitched human warmth under the covers next to her. Haunting, that. Buffy recoils from the phantom sensation only to find a sort of dead weight dragged with her. Huh. Peculiar...

"Holy sh--" Her eyes open and yes, dear Lord, there is a someone in bed with her. A someone who she recognizes but that recognition is second to the horror of someone being in bed with her.

Buffy yanks rather magnificently away from Glitch; the silver chain between them only managed to bring them closer as she found the co-inhabitor of the bed was now incriminatingly tangled up with her. And her tablet -- once perched precariously on the pillow next to her -- was now blinking a steady gleam of activation. Broadcasting her humiliation to the whole damn city only she couldn't quite reach it at the moment...

"What the Hell are you doing in my bed?" Oh, honey. It's not your bed.

The yanking and the yelling was enough to rouse Glitch, who gave an annoyed grumble which transformed into a yelp as he got tangled up with sheets, chain, and Slayer. He blinked, horrified, and tried flailing in a (for the moment futile) attempt to extricate himself. “Oh gods, I’m sorry! This is…I don’t…”

Ozma, he was in bed with a woman half his age. The inappropriateness was horrifying.

(ooc; reply to either or both! expect threadjacks! have fun! remain indoors!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ lineface. ]

If it's a gl-- technical difficulty, then I doubt your tools will do much good.

For God's sake. Why are we still saying if? This isn't an if. This is a definitely.

To be fair it could be some magical thing. [ purely playing devil's advocate: if it's not hamsters it's witches. ] In any case there's no reason to not at least try and do something about it.

[ angel crosses his arms over his chest. ]

The only witch I know of in this place wouldn't do something like this.

Will--no. You're right. [ then to glitch: ] He's right. She wouldn't.

Will...Willow? No, no, and not Piper either, but maybe there's a secret witch. Or wizard. [ look it's totally a viable theory. ] I mean my money's still on aliens but there's no use ruling anything out.

[ what had his life come to that this was a perfectly normal conversation? ]

seven [ VISUAL ✝ LOCATION: THE NORTHERN ISLAND ]

[ visual ] lmao, that icon.

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