Reunion and Time Traveling Finale

[lucetimods]

Who: Everyone!
What: The time-traveling group returns to find an invasion of newcomers.
When: November 20th and Onward
Where: Luceti enclosure
Summary: Who let all these New Feathers in here!? ...Wait, that guy's familiar...
Rating: May vary, as usual high ratings should be taken elsewhere

The adventure to the past is over; the villagers have all been sent home to their own time. But things are different. The changes of the past have echoed into the future. And the world has responded in the strangest way. Why are so many people here all of a sudden? And why are their memories such a mess?

Who really knows?

Comments

[strangelyliteral]

Anya had some adjusting to do. Waking up here again, after that brief dunk into reality was no picnic. She wanders, mostly, finding the familiar areas, the familiar haunts. New clothes.

She had avoided Seven, for the most part, although currently she stood off to the side of it, sizing it up. Was that cat still there? She was clothed properly, now, though she had little belongings. None, in fact; there had been no time to scrounge. Mostly just to hope the floaty thoughts could take their root again. The house wasn't hers.

[herotypical]

And here exited Buffy Summers. She stood (hat in hand, coat zipped up) on the front porch and gave her arms a vigorous rubbing. Winter! She was back, and it had to be winter. And after clothing had been borrowed and other clothing scrounged from the shops, she was left looking patchwork. It did little for her bewilderment and less for her self-esteem.

Buffy was wrestling with mittens when she looked up and...

"Anya."

It was a hello. Sort of.

[strangelyliteral]

Buffy.

She had been gone, hadn't she? One of Anya's last clear memories of the place. That it had been just her and the cat alone in the house, and she had been wondering if that was giving her permission to leave it. Except she couldn't bring herself to. She had felt incomprehensibly alone and that had bugged her, given all of the unsure feelings about it to begin with. Given the fresh return to their war and back again, almost as if nothing had passed at all.

It all barely feels pieced together, as her brow furrowed, taking in the sight of the slayer before her.

"That's my name."

[herotypical]

She walked down the porch steps -- blonde curls bouncing in an almost ludicrous pantomime of a jaunty stroll. But there was Buffy's face, severe and pinched. She didn't know how to smile yet because she didn't know whether she ought to welcome Anya or commiserate with her.

"Did you -- are you..." God, there were no words for this. She huffed. "Have you been here this whole time?"

[strangelyliteral]

"... No."

It's an aching reality; being jarred between fighting again and waking up here. A headache, really. She hadn't fully absorbed it, and yet here Buffy was again in the flesh.

"Though I'm damned if it only felt like a minute. Being bounced around, like -- like one of those pong ball things."

[herotypical]

"Ping," she added. Lamely. "Ping pong."

It wasn't even said with impatience. Or frustration. Just flat serviceable help. "But it sounds like it's getting around. Common affliction. A whole slew of...of us."

Returned.

[strangelyliteral]

"Think it'll be for long again? You never thought you'd get out, and you did."

Her gaze goes back to the house.

[herotypical]

"I'm not sure what I did ever really counted as...getting out. I was here. And then I wasn't. I didn't do anything."

Apparently, this was a vital distinction.

[strangelyliteral]

"What they did, then."

Which, she could understand the distinction. It was something like dying, and being brought back from it; the person dead or gone couldn't give their voice on the matter. And she was sure this place felt no regrets about anything it did.

"Doesn't matter anymore, I guess. We're here again, now." So now what, was the next question, but she didn't want to ask that of Buffy.

[herotypical]

"Us and well over half the tracks from the other Luceti's Greatest Hits albums. It's--"

She frowned. "Are you cold? Do you wanna come inside? You can come inside, you know."

[strangelyliteral]

"Just like a big reunion, right?"

Except Anya still felt too rattled, with her fresh reminder of her ultimate mortality just a world away. A blink away.

"Can I? Then yes, let's go in."

It might be warmer. Else, have more uncertain memories. The question of where she would live also felt as if it was still hanging in the air. A question burned at the tip of her tongue, have you seen? - but for now, following the Slayer's lead still felt like ... something. Something she couldn't wholly describe, that challenged that thousand years of demonhood.

[Continue here?]