drown the urge for permanence and certainty; crouch down and scrawl my name with yours in wet cement

[herotypical]

Who: lists_to_port & slaying
What: carpentry; catharsis; cutting a deal
When: october 17th; noon onwards
Where: house seven
Summary: buffy wants to build something for jilly's return. buffy also wants to borrow a boat.
Rating: clean enough to start but it's these two so don't be surprised if the rating climbs a couple hundred tags in.

Today looked just a little bit brighter. Not by much, granted. But enough to make a difference and enough to sweeten the sense of industry that was unfolding her backyard. The heat helped; the day was warmed than the ones before it and strangely warm for a late October afternoon. Buffy had quickly given in to summer's last hurrah and was hoarding her last chance to wear shorts before autumn established its firmer grip on the month and on the village. Misery and grief were very, very slowly opening up to allow silver linings and miniature blessings. And one such something was working just a few feet away from her. Not quite so silver, though, and she suspected his lip would curl if she referred to him as miniature anything. Buffy worked the plane across her chosen soon-to-be-planks of wood and she watched Jack Sparrow from the corner of her eye. Perhaps a tarnished, coated kind of silver that resisted polish like two too similar poles on a magnet. Blessing was a harder one to pin down. The word seemed as though it should be anathema to a rough-reptuationed pirate. But then again? In a number of ways, Buffy knew that Jack was less rough than she was.

The afternoon's project was a simple porch swing and it was a little bit of home improvement to impress Jilly with once she returned. And it was a way to keep busy while they waited for her while they waited out their grief. Keeping busy, she found, helped her focus. The work tricked her now and then into smiling when she hadn't intended to. Silly little mistakes would take place -- fumbling with a tool or trying very hard (without much success) to remember carpentry terms once taught to her by Xander Harris -- and somehow these mistakes weren't discouraging. They were comedic. They were okay. And Buffy knew that none of it would be possible had she been left at the house alone, this week.

So she worked diligently at Sparrow's side and took moments now and then to appreciate his work ethic before it inspired her to press forward with her own. And she soon had another plank smoothed and sanded. Buffy pushed it aside and sat back with her palms crushing into the grass that was just a little too long. It wasn't as though the place was crawling with lawn-mowers, after all.

"What colour, Jack?" She asked as she blew a fine stream of breath up and across her brow. Fluttering bangs and clearing her vision. "We should paint it. It should be painted. What colour?"

Comments

[all7seas]

"Two......right. Two goals."

Jack might have been grumbling something in his Buffy-imitating-voice about goals and the setting up of them and what the bloody hell was a goal meant to look like and so forth.

By the time she reached the backyard with the frisbee, she would find him sprawled out lazily on the grass. A rake had been carefully laid out at one end of the yard, and an empty, overturned bucket at the other. Jack did not look like the unconventional style of his goals bothered him in the slightest.

[herotypical]

After a few minutes of searching, she found what she was after -- it was tucked under the couch. Buffy tapped the frisbee against her open palm. The window would be the quickest way to the back yard. Easy as pie. Just climb through it like she used to.

Nah. She headed for the front door and took the long way around. All the way around until she was standing over him -- fanning herself with the frisbee in one hand.

"....A rake and a bucket? Seriously?"

[all7seas]

"I'm the rake. Guess that makes you---"

A shrug. A grin.

[herotypical]

"Shush. You know, I could step on you. It wouldn't be pleasant." Who was she kidding? It would hardly make a difference.

now I wish it had been a rake and a hoe. /sad forever

[all7seas]

Jack rolled to his feet and brushed bits of grass off his coat and breeches.

"I sense that this is devolving into threats, Annie, and that simply won't do. Come. Frisbee me."

oh my god. xD

[herotypical]

Buffy could have been helpful. She could have backed up to a fair distance and she could have tossed off the first frisbee throw with ease. This would have given Jack something to work off of -- a model. An example.

Instead, she flashed him a brief smile and pressed the frisbee against his chest. "You're up, Captain."

/sigh

[all7seas]

"I suppose I've got to land this in your bucket to score a point?" He pulled back and actually had decent frisbee-throwing form, his elbow and arm angled properly.

...i'm certain there will be other opportunities.

[herotypical]

"Past it."

Buffy nudged the bucket a few feet to the left and then stripped down to the thin-strapped tank top beneath her t-shirt. The top? Well, she dropped it on the ground and so created a more traditionally styled goal. "Past these. Between them."

MAYBE SO MAYBE SO

[all7seas]

"Erm---shall I take something off as well? OH! Or do you remove articles of clothing each time I mercilessly score on you?"

[herotypical]

"...Nope. This isn't strip frisbee. That's a whole different game that we won't be playing."

[all7seas]

"Oh." That was sad. "Right. Here goes." Jack gave the frisbee a toss, aiming to send it soaring over the goal she'd improved upon. Being generally very good at throwing all sorts of things accurately, his attempt sailed true.

[herotypical]

Catching it wasn't much of an issue for the Slayer. It was just a little almost out of her reach but she strained enough to tip the frisbee with her fingertips and it lost its momentum, tumbling down into Buffy's arms.

"Not bad," she needled. It had been more than not bad; she wasn't letting on.

[all7seas]

"You're frightened. I've frightened you. I've frightened you with my frisbee-tossing skills. You are now inwardly cowering."

Jack didn't seem to mind at all that she had caught it.

[herotypical]

"Oh, I'm quaking. Look at me quake."

She threw the frisbee back -- an easy one. Not a patronizingly easy toss but something along the lines of their earlier proposed teamliness.

[all7seas]

He reached up and caught it before flipping it back her way. This was actually quite fun, Jack decided.

"Now what happens if I rush you, sword drawn, and attempt to score a goal in that manner?"

[herotypical]

And so a rally was established.

"I'd beat you up and then steal your sword. Simple."

[all7seas]

"How bad a beating are we talking, Annie?" Because it might be worth a point, really. He would have to weigh it.

[herotypical]

"...You're welcome to get over here and risk it."

bed for me! Night!

[all7seas]

Hmmm...perhaps he would, perhaps he would. But it would be when she least expected it. For now, Jack was concentrating on getting his throws to fly as straight and true as possible. Soon enough, though, he tried a banked, curving throw.

good night!

[herotypical]

O-okay. A little trickier but not so bad. Not so bad at all. It only took a bit of a lazy spring to reach the frisbee at its most catchable point. Reaching low and quick -- snatching the frisbee out of the air and waving it at the pirate with a triumphant gesture.

"You know -- actually, do you know what a cymbal is? They're pretty frisbee-able. I decapitated a vamp with one, once. Kinda like this."

One very hard and fast throw. Straighter and truer than the throws that had come before it.

[all7seas]

At the very last second, Jack caught the disc that was spinning toward his throat--two-handed. The hard plastic didn't do a lot of damage to calloused hands, but the throw sort of froze the pirate nevertheless. Then he very gently tossed it back to the slayer.

"You've never told me that story before, Annie," he offered quietly.

[herotypical]

Her fingers snapped shut around the frisbee's edge.

"Had to be creative -- before the scythe. It's not like I could always walk around with a weapon in tow. People'd ask uncomfortable questions. I had to use what was around me."

[all7seas]

"And they don't ask uncomfortable questions now?" He waited for another head-chopping toss.

[herotypical]

"Oh, no. They ask. I just don't care anymore. About the asking or the hiding."

She returned the disc; gentler, this time. Her application of strength was tempered by the disquieting way Jack had taken the fact.

[all7seas]

He caught it; examined it; and then made a rush for her goal, hoping to fake Buffy out to the right while he really intended on ducking left.