hisdarkmark | Fortieth Hex - [Written/Action]

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Fortieth Hex - [Written/Action]

[When he first opens his eyes, he's immediately blinded by the sunlight and he hisses loudly, rolling over in the dirt to shield his eyes. He doesn't move for a moment, barely bothering to take in what was going on. It was obvious he was back. His clothes were still torn and disgusting from the last draft, and he had a few dried scabs on his arms, but otherwise...he seemed fine.

Sitting up, he gropes around the area for his journal to check the date.

Shit. Just how long was death supposed to last in this place? He supposed it wasn't too entirely unusual, considering how long Arumat was gone when he had been murdered. He adjusts himself on the ground, shifting the way he's sitting and reaching in his pocket for a pen. The writing is scratchy and scrawled, but the words are legible.]

So that's what it's like.

[He doesn't care. He doesn't care to read through everything and find out what he's missed. He's on his feet and carefully walking toward house 25, already knowing that Tsuzuki and Hisoka were waiting for him and most likely could kill him again for being dead for so long.

The thing was, however, was that he couldn't figure it out. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around what he's lost as a penalty. Maybe he got lucky and they didn't take anything at all. That would be nice, wouldn't it? But it seemed highly unlikely, especially considering the nagging in the back of his mind that something was missing. He'd just have to work it out later.

Hmm...hello house 26. You seem awfully familiar, and not in the way that it was the house some of Draco's friends live in now. He used to spend a lot of time in that house, didn't he?

No. Maybe not. He couldn't imagine why he would...must be mistaken.

It isn't until he's almost at his front door that he takes his journal again, scrawling out a few more words.]

...am I the last one to come back then? Suppose they really do save the best for the end.

[ooc: Death penalty explained briefly here]

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[ tap tap tap. ]

Well. Have you eaten yet?

[ trust her -- the question will make sense in a moment. maybe.

hopefully. ]

Considering I just unearthed myself from a pile of dirt? Sort of the last thing on my mind. Why?

Someone once lost their sense of taste. [ ... ] Someone else? Their lactose tolerance.

[ andrew. poor andrew who she'd slayed. no -- killed. but she hadn't known him at the time... ]

But I guess you'd never know, really. After all -- you're already British.

[ and we all know the british have no taste. ]

[fjldskaj wow rood. He just stares at the page for a moment because seriously, Summers?]

I can taste some of the dirt that managed to get in my mouth. Unfortunately I have to rule that out. Though lactose tolerance seems somewhat disconcerting as well...granted, I don't really like milk in the first place, but it sounds aggravating.

A friend of mine lost all feeling in the left side of her body if I recall correctly. That's not it either. I can feel everything.

[A pause.]

...Buffy. [And it's strange still, writing her first name instead of the surname.] It doesn't always have to be physical, does it?

[ it's strange seeing it. the edge of her thumb touches her first name -- thoughtful. it's not so odd in general.

but with draco it's always...

she takes her pencil up once again: ] No. It definitely doesn't. They can muck up our synapses as well as our senses. Why? Is there anything you--

You know who you are. You know who I am. But there could be...gaps.

[Another long pause. Was there something? It's hard to say. He thinks there is, but he isn't sure what, not yet. A few incoherent scribbles appear on the page as Draco tries to work things out, but he isn't getting any closer.]

"Gaps"? I'm not sure. I know who you are, and obviously I know who I am. I'd have to be an idiot not to know. And I know who everyone else is that has spoken to me so far, so I don't think...what other kinds of gaps could there be?

Did you meet Rupert Giles, when he was here? He lost three whole years. Poof. Gone. Wiped from his brain.

Of course I met Giles. [And he stops again, because his brain's stalling on why he knows so much about Giles. Why would he know so much about Giles? Giles wasn't that important to him. Hell, he didn't even like Giles that much...but someone else did. Who was that again...?]

I'm not sure that's the same. I remember things that have happened here since I've arrived in Luceti. I remember drafts and experiments and meeting people and the like. Giles lost absolutely everything, didn't he?

But he didn't know he'd lost anything. Think about it -- if there's something you can't remember, then of course you're not going to notice it's gone.

Think back. Try to account for every year. Giles lost things from before ever coming here. The first three years I'd known him for.

I remember everything about home as well, as much as I don't want to remember. I think they would have been too kind to allow me to forget the entire world's gone to hell at the moment.

[But he thinks.] ...I'm not sure what I could be forgetting.

It might not be a memory thing at all but..

Look through your journal. Old entries. They might have clues.

You don't think they would have gone and erased those traces too if that was ultimately their goal?

Draco--

[ she pauses in her writing. ] The penalties aren't a price they name. They get them too, when they die here. So I don't think any goal of theirs has anything to do with it. You're what's been altered -- not the books or the other people or anything like that.

[It may just be that he's afraid to look, actually.] ...I'll look later. I don't know what good it will do though. It'll be like reading someone else's life if I see memories on the pages but have no idea what any of them mean, right?

Right. I agree. I-- [ know what it's like, having something taken from your mind ]

It'll be up to you to decide whether you're better off knowing or not. No one else can make that choice for you. Take all the time you need.

...thanks. I think I'll just not look for now if it's all the same. Not yet. We're not even sure if the answers will be there, so there's no point in searching and then realizing it was all for nothing.

[ she knows there are people she could ask about. facts she could check.

but wouldn't that be cruel? especially if he didn't yet know what he wanted.

so: ] If things get really dire, I find that the occasional white wine spritzer helps.

I'll have to see where I can find one of those. I could probably use it at this point. Thanks for the hint though.

The bar -- of course. ~~My bar~~. Good Spirits.

About the only good bar left in town, isn't it? You might see me sooner than you expect.

You are legal, right?

[ oh hell, buffy. the boy just died... ] Not that it matters much, I guess. In the end.

If it's any difference, I'm 20 now. I assume that's close enough...besides, it's legal by our standards.

The age is twenty-one where I'm from. But I'll let it slide. Just for you.

[ okay and for everyone else. but what's wrong with making the guy feel a little special? ]

Ah, let's remember I'm British though, but I'm so flattered you'll let me be an exception.

You know, I operate out of a castle in Scotland. Even on the grounds, my girls have to live by California law.

[ mostly because no one wants young drunk slayers partying in a castle. ]

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