malnosso | [Locked to Residents]

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malnosso

[Locked to Residents]

[Appearing on the journals is a written message as follows. A voice option is provided for a computerized reading of the text.]

Attention Luceti Residents.

The following names are being called to participate in a strike against the cultist hordes:
[the names listed here appear on the journal.]

All subjects are required to arrive at the tunnels at 8AM on the 27th of March for deployment. All listed individuals are required to be present. Subjects will then be escorted to TERRACE for battle preparation and further details.

Target will be Region One, a former Malnosso stronghold, presently in cultist hands. Subjects are advised to prepare for combat in forested areas. Further information will be made available at TERRACE. Questions and answers will not be provided at this time.

[The Malnosso will not reply to this message, but everyone is free to use this post to discuss among themselves, whether using voice options on the journal or doing action threads.]

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A lot can happen in a year. [Vagueness. Zompano had been there in that first year. Meeting a sympathizer and eventual traitor like Jacob in the flesh.

But there really wasn't that much of a difference, was there? ...Maybe he was trying to fool himself on that subject.

So he decides to use a sarcastic joke.]

You may receive a commemorative gift from the Organization upon reaching your fifth year.

Hear that, you Malnosso pricks? [ she speaks as if she's casting her voice far and wide, though the quip is only made to acknowledge the fact that she understands their conversation isn't as private as one might hope. ] When it comes to commemorating me, it'd better be Jimmy Choos or nothing.

[And that seems like a good place to finish up that filter, so he can smile a little bit.]

I feel like I am missing out on a reference here.

Designer heels. [ a soft sound. somewhere between exasperation and laughter. ] If I'm honest, they're more Dawn's thing than mine. Jimmy Choos are notoriously unhelpful while running. Too much stiletto and not enough chunk. Louboutin wedges, on the other hand...

[ how silly. talking shoes with so much looming war and so little settled sentimentality between the pair of them. and buffy is at long last struck by how petty it is that she should withhold information from a man who could very well benefit from what she had to offer.

she apologizes without actually saying sorry: ] I have the sand. And thanks. For the filter-aid.

[He listens quietly, relaxing minutely just listening to Buffy ramble about shoes. It was such a mundane topic, away from the seriousness they would soon be facing, and he would relish it before stepping away to face the upcoming problem.]

...We will have to make use of that sand, then. After all of this.

That'd be nice. It's just kinda sitting there, staring at me. Unused. Like the tell-tale heart. Do you know that one...?

[ and then, thinking that the allusion reveals just too much of her inner conflict: ] I think I'm gonna pack my boots, for this draft. Boots seem like a safe bet.

...The Telltale Heart. Poe. [He sounds a bit vague as he recalls that.] Ah, yes. I understand.

Boots seem a good deal more practical than running shoes, not knowing the weather or entirety of the terrain. [He's quite agreeable.]

Good, tractiony boots. Low heeled. Leather. Laced, likely, because zippers are temperamental.

[ a deep breath. ] The problem with forests is you never can tell there's a hidden root underfoot until you're already tripping on it. Blindsided.

Just be sure not to trip while anyone is around to notice. [Oh so helpful. Really.]

...Because the last thing our numbers need is for me to perish from embarrassment. Am I right?

It would be a rather disheartening way to go.

[Is he being serious? The unchanging tone really doesn't help.]

Mortifying. I can see it now: here rests Buffy Summers. She made the world laugh at her. A lot.

And for that, she receives an unflattering tombstone.

One of those ugly ones with a statue.

Timelessly out of fashion.

...Oh, jeez. Thank God the real deal was actually pretty tasteful. As tasteful as tombstones get.

Indeed. Now you know what you do and do not want on your gravestone. [He looks wryly at her for a moment, then continues lightly.]

Shall we leave it at that, before there are more morbid jokes?

....Depends. Is it hokey, tacky, and-slash-or lame if I ask you to take care? Out there, y'know. When we go.

[ she's always worried about him in a very general and typically slayerish capacity. one who worries about her friends and associates as a baseline condition. but to do so now seems strangely...intimate. ]

[There is a faint snort, as if the question itself is unnecessary.]

None of the above. I appreciate the gesture, Buffy -- and I would tell you to do the same, as much as you can.

[Even then, his tone is knowing; she would be exposed to far more of the fighting than he would ever willingly allow of himself.]

That might not be much of a problem. I happen to be on kid-watching duty, this time around.

[...]

Kid-watching duty?

[It might not be a problem, but it was certainly not the first thought that came to mind for what Buffy would be doing during the draft.]

An...[ oh crap ] old acquaintance is back in town. After a long time away. He's asked me to look after one of the children whose name ended up smack dab on the list.

An old acquaintance.

[And who could that be? Surely not Jack Horner, because why would a man such as that take on the supervision of children...

And yet.]

I see.

And it's not like I could say no.

Of course. [Now, if this was a formal army, there would be other words to be said. But such was not the case here.]

Then I suppose you will be in a somewhat safer position than usual. We will leave it at that.

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herotypical - 2013-04-26 05:24 (UTC) - Expand

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chikaidestroyer - 2013-04-26 05:50 (UTC) - Expand

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[Locked to Residents]

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