[Buffy wanders through main street hunched inwards, gaze skittering over the burnt and torn remains of the town. There's a familiarity to this sight, something that makes her want to crawl inside herself and shut it out. Her eyes are wide, but her walk is brisk and steady. If nothing else, at least she knows her name and has somewhere to go. She'll get her things and go home, and maybe wearing real clothes will make her feel better. She can barely believe that the hospital would just send her out in a gown she has to clutch to keep closed, even if it's not a long walk.
The clothes do help a little, and oddly so does the stuffed pig. Buffy carries it in both hands as she heads back out onto the Main Street. She should get to the house, she knows, but she can't help slowing down. She takes one hand off the pig and touches a scorched tree, watches the beaten-looking cars as they head past her. Without near-nakedness to give her urgency, Buffy can't help being distracted by the ruin around her. That in itself seems as familiar as the fact that there is damage to be fascinated by. It seems less overwhelming than her initial walk through the town, even if the deja vu remains unpleasant. Something about the curiosity, even the smallest bit of investigation, seems right. An image materializes: the sheriff showing her a sharpened, curved stick he'd be keeping for the next month. She pushes it away.
As she pauses, Buffy hears another pedestrian pass by; the footsteps make her whirl around to stare in silence at first, completely still. Then--] Sorry.
July 4th - 4th of July
[The fireworks and the talking are almost too loud. Even more so after being targeted immediately upon her arrival by a woman with as many complaints as words of welcome. If Linda's commentary is accurate, Buffy silently thanks God that this year was quieter than normal. Words buzz around her, and she can't quite focus on any of them. She smiles anyway, until Linda's gone off to someone else.
Focus or no focus, she won't leave. There's a coziness to the scene, and she wants to be part of it. The longing and the distance, the sense of being a spectator, all feel familiar, although she doesn't understand why. So she's done what she can to contribute. She's brought homemade mint chocolate chip cookies, frosted with the red, white and blue of the day. Buffy brings them to what looks like a dessert table that's covered in the same colors. A giant, mishmashed edible flag, she thinks. Abruptly, to the next person who approaches the table--] Hey, it's a flag you can eat! [She brings back her tiny smile.]
[Later, Buffy wanders throughout the picnic. She tries to stop for a burger, but the arguing from...Jerry? Jerry and someone else over his cooking puts her off, just as much as the thought of the burgers being bad. She can't quite make herself stop at any more tables, though. Even her own cookies don't tempt her. After some halting attempts at chatting with anyone who'll approach her, she begins to head away from the festivities, absentmindedly dumping her sparkler as she goes. She doesn't notice the little sparks on the grass for a second. Then she frantically stomps them out, picking up the sparkler once more and hoping that nobody is looking in her direction.]
July 1-5th Your Choice
Any scenario you prefer that isn't one of the above!
Buffy Summers | Multiple Scenarios| Open
[Buffy wanders through main street hunched inwards, gaze skittering over the burnt and torn remains of the town. There's a familiarity to this sight, something that makes her want to crawl inside herself and shut it out. Her eyes are wide, but her walk is brisk and steady. If nothing else, at least she knows her name and has somewhere to go. She'll get her things and go home, and maybe wearing real clothes will make her feel better. She can barely believe that the hospital would just send her out in a gown she has to clutch to keep closed, even if it's not a long walk.
The clothes do help a little, and oddly so does the stuffed pig. Buffy carries it in both hands as she heads back out onto the Main Street. She should get to the house, she knows, but she can't help slowing down. She takes one hand off the pig and touches a scorched tree, watches the beaten-looking cars as they head past her. Without near-nakedness to give her urgency, Buffy can't help being distracted by the ruin around her. That in itself seems as familiar as the fact that there is damage to be fascinated by. It seems less overwhelming than her initial walk through the town, even if the deja vu remains unpleasant. Something about the curiosity, even the smallest bit of investigation, seems right. An image materializes: the sheriff showing her a sharpened, curved stick he'd be keeping for the next month. She pushes it away.
As she pauses, Buffy hears another pedestrian pass by; the footsteps make her whirl around to stare in silence at first, completely still. Then--] Sorry.
July 4th - 4th of July
[The fireworks and the talking are almost too loud. Even more so after being targeted immediately upon her arrival by a woman with as many complaints as words of welcome. If Linda's commentary is accurate, Buffy silently thanks God that this year was quieter than normal. Words buzz around her, and she can't quite focus on any of them. She smiles anyway, until Linda's gone off to someone else.
Focus or no focus, she won't leave. There's a coziness to the scene, and she wants to be part of it. The longing and the distance, the sense of being a spectator, all feel familiar, although she doesn't understand why. So she's done what she can to contribute. She's brought homemade mint chocolate chip cookies, frosted with the red, white and blue of the day. Buffy brings them to what looks like a dessert table that's covered in the same colors. A giant, mishmashed edible flag, she thinks. Abruptly, to the next person who approaches the table--] Hey, it's a flag you can eat! [She brings back her tiny smile.]
[Later, Buffy wanders throughout the picnic. She tries to stop for a burger, but the arguing from...Jerry? Jerry and someone else over his cooking puts her off, just as much as the thought of the burgers being bad. She can't quite make herself stop at any more tables, though. Even her own cookies don't tempt her. After some halting attempts at chatting with anyone who'll approach her, she begins to head away from the festivities, absentmindedly dumping her sparkler as she goes. She doesn't notice the little sparks on the grass for a second. Then she frantically stomps them out, picking up the sparkler once more and hoping that nobody is looking in her direction.]
July 1-5th Your Choice
Any scenario you prefer that isn't one of the above!