lucetilogs | so pile your boots up in the corner -- hang your jacket from the door

Who: anyone invited to house seven's thanksgivingstravaganza -- as well as anyone walking by who might be curious about all the brouhaha.
What: giving thanks!
When: forward dated to november 24th due to predicted holiday hiatuses!
Where: house seven!
Summary: friends, food, fondness. family. festivities.
Rating: g for goin' up.

House Seven was decked out in soft oranges and browns. Gentle reds and yellows. The table was shoved up against a wall and dish upon dish of delicious Thanksgiving dinner-bits adorned it. Plates to one side, a pile of cutlery. Feel free to line up and pile your arms high with roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, carrots and green beans, cranberry sauce, sinful gravy. Stuffing. Steamed broccoli. The amount of food would almost be laughable had the guest list not been so long. Chatter abounded.

It was, by all accounts, a fairly casual gathering. No ceremony (Buffy, by this point, was all ceremony'd out after some fiercely dedicated meal-prepping) to stand on and no customs to keep. Just food and friendship. The only thing customary about Buffy Summers would be her delighted, enchanted grin throughout the evening. Very little pleased her more than a social event that was going well.

Mix! Mingle! Make merry!

(ooc; threadjack into oblivion and don't forget to add your character to the entry tags! have fun! note that this is forward-dated. i'll be tagging around myself later this evening. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Why didjya first start patrollin'?"

"It's part of what I do -- back home. I started when I was fifteen...still doesn't feel like a good night if I don't make a sweep."

"So it kinda sets y'mind at ease too, huh?" He muses sympathetically, it sounding more like a statement than a question from his inflection.

"Very. Even when it gets cold -- there's just something about a walk through the woods with a weapon in hand that makes me feel...bigger than myself Ready. Prepped."

"With a weapon? Yeah, I bet." He momentarily wondered whether she had ever had an issue where she had attacked someone harmless, mistaking them for the undead. "Ain't nothin' gonna try t'sneak up on ya. You was talkin' bout... fightin' real vampires back home, right?"

"Mmhm. Nightly. The forces of the undead."

"Gee... good thing there ain't nothin' like that here." So he believes, at least.

"...What makes you think there isn't?"

Mac's eyes widened in wonder. "Y'mean... there are?" He took a moment to digest this, blinking dazedly. "Gee. I ain't seen nothin' like that... but you been here longer, right?"

"Mmhm. Long enough to see a lot of vamps come and go. Pro-tip? Not a bad idea to travel at night with a cross on your person."

[He half-absently pat his chest, feeling slightly vulnerable. He was not the necklace-wearing type, but if it meant keeping safe from a threat that was apparently all too real, and this coming from someone who apparently had a fair bit of knowledge on the subject...]

Does it really work?

"...Absolutely. At least, it works against my garden variety of vampire."

And then -- self-consciously -- she touched the golden cross on her neck. It was paired with a gifted ring which hung from the same chain. "That or holy water."

"So... garlic or that special kind a' bush don' do nothin' 'gainst 'em? Y'know, I once heard this weird idea 'bout tossin' rice around the coffin or somethin' an' the vampire will spend all night countin' 'em 'til he burns up." A breathy chuckle. "Guess only a pretty dumb guy'd fall f'that."

"And I won't like -- I've met a few IQ deficient undead in my day. But those're all myths. Sunlight, fire, holy water, cross, stake to the heart. Oh. And, of course, decapitation. But that's one best left to the pros."

He nods seriously. "So... I guess you ain't much afraid a' them no more?"

"...Hmm -- afraid? No. But always wary. It doesn't matter if you've only dusted four or four thousand...vamps can still get the jump on you. Or me."

"Damn... y'world's full a' them! It's like a bunch a' cockroaches!"

"And that's just one town. That's why nightly patrols were needed, back home. I'd bag a few every time I went out."

"Holy smokes." What food was left on his plate has been forgotten. "Y'must be a real expert on 'em now, huh. People here should know this stuff... like, whatchya told me 'bout protectin' m'self."

"Some might call me an expert, sure. Most who are in the know, back home, call me the Slayer. And I try and pass the word on as much as I can."

"Oh. ...Well, thanks f'lettin' me know 'bout this whole cross thing. Does it matter how big it is or what it's made out of?"

"Nope. I mean -- I'm wearing this one but I'll also carry a wooden one around with me."

"Okay, that ain't bad. I'll get m'self a lil' one, I guess. Thanks. Ain't exactly somethin' I expected t'learn at Thanksgivin' dinner, but m'glad I did."

"Sorry. I should've kept it something a little more meal-friendly than the undead."

A grin curls his lips. "Don' worry 'bout it. Don' think much can put me off this stuff."

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herotypical - 2011-11-28 06:29 (UTC) - Expand

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