dont you just love how titleless i am? and..uh..hm...hopefully you like
its..different? and hopefully liked. im not sure i like the ending but...eh..we'll seee...any suggestions or anything im open. specially on titles. diff size underline italic is memory
Right..so..this is just me messing around with stuff and an idea. 🙂 uh..right...when its italics?...its...faith thoughts or actions, when its bold, its buffy's thoughts. When the name is in the thing after the "" things that denote speech, it wasn't that person that talked, which..should be noticeable anyway, in my annoying manner. B- Buffy, F- Faith I felt like being odd about that. Sue me. But, don't. That'd be mean. And, like most, moneyless. Characters aren't mine. Idea. Enjoy. oh the section break ups?...felt like it. divorces maybe?...from the norm, I mean. If the style annoys the hell out of you, tell me. Actions of both underlined. AU, no dawn. Finch happened, but...Faith never worked for the Mayor or lied to Giles about it....they..just sort of drifted. eh...if any questions, ask. Oh and the scar? not from b. Faith got drunk and got..a scar somehow?...if anyone Really wants, I'll get a reason.
"Oof..." Slammed into the cold grey of mausoleum, back bruised and aching, air rushing out of her lungs like a well known sound, she grunts and takes a deep breath before pushing off the tomb.
"[insert your own faith is upset at walking for air and getting attacked phrase here] Can't even take a walk in this town anymore." A swift right hook takes her opponent by surprise after he dodges a left roundhouse.Fight Seconds flare by as the heat rises up and hell burns in their eyes, he looks and hopes that maybe she's on his side but he evaporates faster than his hope. Buffy barely sees Faith's stake leave her coat before it goes back in. Efficient. Never something she considered Faith.
Zips up her coat tighter, stuffs hands in coat pockets, cursing herself without curses, for forgetting her gloves at home. She was at a disadvantage with her hands in her pocket, but her hands wouldn't be any good frozen either. Pays all the attention she can to her surroundings hoping she won't get caught unaware, again. Hears something every few seconds but looks and its just the wind blowing something or a streetlamp casting an odd glow upon some forgotten tomb. Sighing, squares shoulders and steels herself, chastising herself for being so jumpy.
She walks, brisk, determined, resolute, steely, aware yet unaware. Hair a contrast to manner and a reminder of past, she considers dying it for the millionth time, but nixes the plan. How would she be recognized? She forgets her face. She forgets her voice, though wearied, is still the same. And she wishes she could see it contrasted against another hair shade. Heavy breathing in near-lost memories. She misses her. Grunts. Gasps and sighs. Shudders at cold and goes to hug herself but gasps when the cold air hits her hands and shoves her hands deeper into her pockets. Curses. She used to curse. It used to turn her on. It always goes back to her. Even after all these years.
They had a new dance now. Buffy would watch as Faith slayed, Faith would watch as Buffy slayed. Never really meeting, never really apart at night. Years had taught them that they were scared of each other. Neither of them dared to take a step, front or back. Grown up and aged, aware but unaware. Fighting, dying a little every night. Going home to cold, empty, solitary, stark beds. Going home alone, sleeping fitfully dreaming the same dream of the other every night, and yet still too afraid to do anything about it.
--**--**--**--**--**--this-is-fun-and-I'll-do-it-till-the-day-I-die-kind-of-attitude-that's-why-I-love-her-so-cuz-tomorrow's-the-day-she'll-die--**--**--**--**--**--
Faith is tired. Slowly maneuvers out of her coat. Drops it on the floor, idly wonders why she was tired now but not five minutes before when she was staking a vamp. Eases out of slightly too tight pants and falls listlessly to the unmade bed. Closes her eyes and prays for a good nights sleep. Idly wonders in the back of her head why she gave up alcohol, then remembers. Touches the scar. Tear slips out. Turns to the side and squeezes eyes tight.
--**--**--**--**--**--this-is-my-life-and-I'll-live-it-exactly-as-I'm-expected-to-thank-you-very-much-attitude-that's-why-I-love-her-so--**--**--**--**--**--
Shivers. Guilt. "Give her your coat. Those extra gloves. Here's your reasonal validation." " What if she hates me?" "Who cares? Give her the gloves." "Fine." Arguments in her head. Self-doubt and love. Steps out of the shadows. Walks towards her heart, dripping red. Tackles her.
"What the hell?" Gets up, upset, angry. Stops. Faith. Vamp. She stakes him, tosses a pair of gloves at Buffy's feet. Walks off. "Go after her." "Why?" "She cares. Go. Now." "Fine." Gives up the argument and runs after Faith. Forgetting to be quiet, forgetting everything but Faith. Stops breathless at the door. Gathers herself, almost chickens out. Reflex knock, quick and fast, can't go back now. Door opens. Looks down. Guilty, nervous, ashamed, unsure.
"Hey." - F. Voice, soft, surprised, nervous.
"Hey."- B. Steps aside. Walks in.
"Thanks." - B. Hands gloves back.
"No problem. You looked cold." - F
"I was freezing." - B. Blush
"Its 40 degrees. It's not cold, not even for California." - F. Smirk.
"You're from Boston." - B. Matter of fact. Chuckles. "That felt good. Tell her to sit." "True. Sit? I mean, would you like to?" - F. Nervous
"Sure."- B. Smiles at offer and at Faith's nerves. Sits on edge of bed, uncomfortable, yet happy inside.
"Drink? I only have orange juice." - F.
"Didn't figure you for the healthy drink type." - B.
"Old habits die hard."- F.
"I know." - B. Guilt. "I need to move on. We need to move on."
"I'm sorry." - B.
"For what?" - F.
"My mistakes." - B. Looks up, into Faith's eyes.
"Shhh. Don't. Just...forgive me?" - B. Stands up, close to Faith.
"Of course." - F. Low whisper. Lean in. Kiss. Sweet, soft, right.
"We need..." - F.
"Tomorrow we'll talk. Not today. Please?" - B. Faith nods, silent.
"Just...hold me?" - B. Curl up on bed.
--**--**--**--**--**--this-is-fun-in-the-I'm-afraid-if-I-don't-agree-I'll-get-killed-sort-of-agreeing-way-because-you're-scary-and-I-love-you--**--**--**--**--**--
its..different? and hopefully liked. im not sure i like the ending but...eh..we'll seee...any suggestions or anything im open. specially on titles. diff size underline italic is memory
Right..so..this is just me messing around with stuff and an idea. 🙂 uh..right...when its italics?...its...faith thoughts or actions, when its bold, its buffy's thoughts. When the name is in the thing after the "" things that denote speech, it wasn't that person that talked, which..should be noticeable anyway, in my annoying manner. B- Buffy, F- Faith I felt like being odd about that. Sue me. But, don't. That'd be mean. And, like most, moneyless. Characters aren't mine. Idea. Enjoy. oh the section break ups?...felt like it. divorces maybe?...from the norm, I mean. If the style annoys the hell out of you, tell me. Actions of both underlined. AU, no dawn. Finch happened, but...Faith never worked for the Mayor or lied to Giles about it....they..just sort of drifted. eh...if any questions, ask. Oh and the scar? not from b. Faith got drunk and got..a scar somehow?...if anyone Really wants, I'll get a reason.
"Oof..." Slammed into the cold grey of mausoleum, back bruised and aching, air rushing out of her lungs like a well known sound, she grunts and takes a deep breath before pushing off the tomb.
"[insert your own faith is upset at walking for air and getting attacked phrase here] Can't even take a walk in this town anymore." A swift right hook takes her opponent by surprise after he dodges a left roundhouse.Fight Seconds flare by as the heat rises up and hell burns in their eyes, he looks and hopes that maybe she's on his side but he evaporates faster than his hope. Buffy barely sees Faith's stake leave her coat before it goes back in. Efficient. Never something she considered Faith.
Zips up her coat tighter, stuffs hands in coat pockets, cursing herself without curses, for forgetting her gloves at home. She was at a disadvantage with her hands in her pocket, but her hands wouldn't be any good frozen either. Pays all the attention she can to her surroundings hoping she won't get caught unaware, again. Hears something every few seconds but looks and its just the wind blowing something or a streetlamp casting an odd glow upon some forgotten tomb. Sighing, squares shoulders and steels herself, chastising herself for being so jumpy.
She walks, brisk, determined, resolute, steely, aware yet unaware. Hair a contrast to manner and a reminder of past, she considers dying it for the millionth time, but nixes the plan. How would she be recognized? She forgets her face. She forgets her voice, though wearied, is still the same. And she wishes she could see it contrasted against another hair shade. Heavy breathing in near-lost memories. She misses her. Grunts. Gasps and sighs. Shudders at cold and goes to hug herself but gasps when the cold air hits her hands and shoves her hands deeper into her pockets. Curses. She used to curse. It used to turn her on. It always goes back to her. Even after all these years.
They had a new dance now. Buffy would watch as Faith slayed, Faith would watch as Buffy slayed. Never really meeting, never really apart at night. Years had taught them that they were scared of each other. Neither of them dared to take a step, front or back. Grown up and aged, aware but unaware. Fighting, dying a little every night. Going home to cold, empty, solitary, stark beds. Going home alone, sleeping fitfully dreaming the same dream of the other every night, and yet still too afraid to do anything about it.
--**--**--**--**--**--this-is-fun-and-I'll-do-it-till-the-day-I-die-kind-of-attitude-that's-why-I-love-her-so-cuz-tomorrow's-the-day-she'll-die--**--**--**--**--**--
Faith is tired. Slowly maneuvers out of her coat. Drops it on the floor, idly wonders why she was tired now but not five minutes before when she was staking a vamp. Eases out of slightly too tight pants and falls listlessly to the unmade bed. Closes her eyes and prays for a good nights sleep. Idly wonders in the back of her head why she gave up alcohol, then remembers. Touches the scar. Tear slips out. Turns to the side and squeezes eyes tight.
--**--**--**--**--**--this-is-my-life-and-I'll-live-it-exactly-as-I'm-expected-to-thank-you-very-much-attitude-that's-why-I-love-her-so--**--**--**--**--**--
Shivers. Guilt. "Give her your coat. Those extra gloves. Here's your reasonal validation." " What if she hates me?" "Who cares? Give her the gloves." "Fine." Arguments in her head. Self-doubt and love. Steps out of the shadows. Walks towards her heart, dripping red. Tackles her.
"What the hell?" Gets up, upset, angry. Stops. Faith. Vamp. She stakes him, tosses a pair of gloves at Buffy's feet. Walks off. "Go after her." "Why?" "She cares. Go. Now." "Fine." Gives up the argument and runs after Faith. Forgetting to be quiet, forgetting everything but Faith. Stops breathless at the door. Gathers herself, almost chickens out. Reflex knock, quick and fast, can't go back now. Door opens. Looks down. Guilty, nervous, ashamed, unsure.
"Hey." - F. Voice, soft, surprised, nervous.
"Hey."- B. Steps aside. Walks in.
"Thanks." - B. Hands gloves back.
"No problem. You looked cold." - F
"I was freezing." - B. Blush
"Its 40 degrees. It's not cold, not even for California." - F. Smirk.
"You're from Boston." - B. Matter of fact. Chuckles. "That felt good. Tell her to sit." "True. Sit? I mean, would you like to?" - F. Nervous
"Sure."- B. Smiles at offer and at Faith's nerves. Sits on edge of bed, uncomfortable, yet happy inside.
"Drink? I only have orange juice." - F.
"Didn't figure you for the healthy drink type." - B.
"Old habits die hard."- F.
"I know." - B. Guilt. "I need to move on. We need to move on."
"I'm sorry." - B.
"For what?" - F.
"My mistakes." - B. Looks up, into Faith's eyes.
"Shhh. Don't. Just...forgive me?" - B. Stands up, close to Faith.
"Of course." - F. Low whisper. Lean in. Kiss. Sweet, soft, right.
"We need..." - F.
"Tomorrow we'll talk. Not today. Please?" - B. Faith nods, silent.
"Just...hold me?" - B. Curl up on bed.
--**--**--**--**--**--this-is-fun-in-the-I'm-afraid-if-I-don't-agree-I'll-get-killed-sort-of-agreeing-way-because-you're-scary-and-I-love-you--**--**--**--**--**--
