Our BtVS post-S7 Fic Continues...
Mar. 20th, 2004 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookWe have a title for this fic at last! "Bad Trip," a name whose meaning will become more clear as time goes on. Eventually I'll get around to updating the previous entries to reflect the story title and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toysdream's new chapter titles, but for now, I've at least created a memories page for the previous parts here.
Incidentally, this is the first chapter where I've contributed a significant amount of writing, so if the quality of writing drops significantly, I'm the one to blame. As usual, all comments / criticisms much appreciated.
ACT FOUR: PILLAR OF SALT
It wasn't until they were crossing Nevada that they began to see the signs. Graciela, staring idly out the rear windows of the minivan as Bet dozed fitfully beside her, was the first to spot them.
"Hey, is there something written on that rock?" Graciela pressed her face to the window, peering at a boulder that jutted from the ground perhaps a quarter of a mile to the side of the highway.
Xander turned to deliver some reassuring, dismissive comment, but then his eye took in the rocky slab and widened in alarm. "Kennedy. Pull over, quick. Anyplace you can."
Kennedy raised a questioning eyebrow, but did as he asked. She swung the van across the sparsely populated lanes and onto the shoulder of the highway, where it came to rest in a cloud of dust. Xander immediately popped open the side door and began striding briskly towards the rock. The others came trotting after him, leaving the sleeping Bet in the back seat.
Xander stopped a couple of yards in front of the boulder, and the rest of the group gathered behind him. He was staring down at the rock, hands on hips, silently contemplating the dark smears on its surface.
"I don't get it," Lo said. "What's that supposed to be saying? This way to Burning Man?"
Neena pursed her lips and frowned at the object before them. "Doesn't it remind you of last night? The symbols, or whatever they were, that were written in that alley?" In blood, she thought but didn't say aloud. Written in blood. By Veronica Lin.
At last, Xander spoke. "They look like those funky letters that the Harbingers had carved into their eyes." He stepped closer and knelt down to touch the smudged symbols. "I don't know what this gunk is supposed to be. Maybe it's blood, but it looks like it's been burnt."
"They're runes." Willow, who had been lagging a little behind the rest of the group, had finally caught up to them. "I don't remember what language, but we looked up some stuff on them a few months ago when we were researching the Harbingers. They're, uh, for controlling and influencing. I think that was it."
"Dominion..." They looked back, startled, and saw that Bet had wandered up behind them as well. She was wobbling slightly as she walked, and her eyes were half-open and unfocused; she looked for all the world as if she were sleepwalking. "Dominion over the land, and them that sleep beneath it, and them that walk upon it. This is the brand. This is the seal."
Her comrades stepped aside as Bet shuffled on towards the rock, and they reached out to her tentatively, as if worried she was going to fall. "Do you think we should wake her up? Isn't that supposed to be a bad idea?" Willow whispered, and Kennedy quietly replied that that was probably just an urban legend.
"I am the eye that watches." Bet directed a wavering finger at a single rune at the top of the boulder, then moved it in a slow clockwise circle, pointing out the other symbols that were distributed around the edges of the rock's face like points on a compass. "I am the tongue that tells. I am the ear that listens. I am the hand--ow!"
Stubbing her toe on a protruding stone, Bet was suddenly wide awake. She hopped back, favoring her bruised foot, and her blonde curls flapped as she looked back and forth at the worried faces that surrounded her. "Huh? What's going on? Did we stop?"
Xander stood up and placed a steadying hand on Bet's shoulder, peering at her with anxious concern. "Elizabeth, are you okay?"
Neena, Lo, and Graciela crowded in around them. "Hey, Bet, I've got a great idea," Lo said. "Don't ever do that kind of creepy shit again."
Kennedy stepped forward and planted a boot on the rock's sloping face. "Controlling and influencing, huh? Influencing who, to do what?" She licked an index finger and leaned down to rub at one of the runes. "And who's the joker who put this here in the first place?" But no matter how hard she scrubbed, the mark appeared indelible.
Even under intensive questioning, Bet insisted that she had no recollection of the words she'd been reciting, and they were unable to coax any more out of her. After Willow had snapped a few digital camera pictures for later analysis, they decided there was nothing more to be learned, and the group plodded back to the van and resumed their journey.
By the time they were approaching Salt Lake City, they'd spotted several more of the seals, etched on rocks, on hillsides, and even into the soil of a withering fruit orchard. The frequency seemed to be increasing as the van drew nearer the city, and the last few all appeared to be drawn so that the runes faced directly toward the metropolitan area.
As they rounded the southern shore of the lake, they noticed plumes of smoke rising from what appeared to be the city center. Xander, who was now in the driver's seat, rolled down the window and listened intently for a minute. "I think I hear sirens. Scratch that. A lot of sirens."
Kennedy leaned forward, resting an elbow on the headrest of Willow's seat. "Maybe that answers my question. I'm starting to think we should stay someplace else tonight."
Xander nodded as he rolled up the window. "You may be right. I think I've seen George Romero movies that begin like this. But if it's okay with you guys, I'd like to make a quick stop for gas and groceries." He felt in his jacket pocket for a moment, making sure the folded slip of paper was still there. "And I might have, uh, one little errand to run while we're here."
Willow and Kennedy exchanged quizzical glances. "What kind of errand?" Willow asked.
Xander shrugged innocently. "No big. I just wanted to take a look at something." And they drove on into the city.
............
"Can I help you?"
The voice took Xander by surprise and he jumped. "Whoa, there," he laughed, his hand leaping up to clutch at his racing heart. His other hand let go of the door he'd been holding open and it swung shut behind him with a too-loud slam, a bell jingling in its wake. The sound gave him a sudden Magic Box flashback, and his heart responded with a nostalgic throb.
The woman eyeing him now wasn't Anya, however--she was small and dark, her hair arranged in glossy braids thickly woven with beads. She looked at him with the patience of a practiced shopkeeper, well used to strangers wandering in with their problems. She smiled, waiting.
"Uh..." For some reason, he was having a hard time getting started. He glanced around the shop as if looking for inspiration. From the outside it had looked like a typical palm-reader's storefront--tacky poster of a gypsy reading a crystal ball, oversized tarot cards, a carved symbol of a mystic eye--but inside, it resembled a frowsy bookshop, floor littered with stacks of boxes, floor-to-ceiling shelves layered with dust. Sunlight filtered in through an opening in a heavy velvet curtain and lit an ornate wooden desk littered with colored cystals and small metal items. A cat dozed near the door, partially hidden by a potted plant.
Xander cleared his throat and started again. Lorne. Mention Lorne. "This, uh... a friend referred me to you. He's got a, you know, skin condition. Sort of a color issue. Although color is good, of course. He said you could show me..."
"Show you," the woman repeated, her smile turning Mona Lisa ambiguous. "Lorne didn't say I could 'show' you anything. He told you I could help you see." She extended an arm draped with bracelets, motioning him closer. He stepped forward as if pulled on a string.
She studied him, head to foot, and he just stood there, mesmerized, as she raised a hand to touch his face. It was only when she moved to lift his eyepatch that he flinched away with a nervous laugh.
"See. Yeah. That's why I'm here. To see. See what I'm not sure, but..."
The woman's smile faded. "You have a long journey to make," she said. "About the longest you can go on without dying... although you might want to know you're risking that as well. Are you ready to risk that, dying? Just for knowledge?"
"I've risked more than that for less." The words just came out of his mouth, and he frowned even as he spoke. He'd planned on making light of the idea, saying something funny, but apparently his brain had other plans. Or is it her? Is she doing something to me? he wondered in a hazy panic.
As if she'd heard the thought, the woman lifted an eyebrow in response, turned away, and padded across the carpet to the far wall, where she began to rifle silently through a series of cardboard boxes.
Xander shifted position awkwardly, waiting. He noted a selection of carved masks peeping out from the gloomy shop walls and idly wondered what a shop like this was doing in Salt Lake City, of all places. The whole magic-voodoo-Wicca thing didn't really seem like a good fit with clean-cut Mormons. Although there is that polygamy thing, Xander found himself thinking, then mentally shook himself.
A spoken word from the witch-woman brought his attention back to the shop. There were now a number of small items arrayed on the scuffed desktop: small bones, feathers, a bundle of sticks, what looked like rocks, a clay statue. The woman traced a fingertip through the dust, pointing at the items in sequence.
"These are to be placed in a circle around you in this order, this incense lit outside the circle, you are to sit within," she said briskly, then handed him a sheet of lined note paper and a small canvas bag. "Make tea with this. Follow the instructions exactly, then drink it when you're in the circle." She lifted her head, stared him straight in the eye, and tapped the bag with a lacquered nail. "Don't try to cross the border with this," she cautioned. "The dogs really won't like you."
"Yeah, well, if the Canadian Mounties were the worst I had to worry about I wouldn't be here." Again, the words were blurted out before they even had time to register in his brain. Some kind of joke-distortion field, gotta be.
Skin crawling, Xander obediently swept up the objects on the desk into his cupped hands. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he was pretty certain that it hadn't been this. He'd figured a talisman, a chant, some incense and some incantation he had to read to a statue maybe, but no. Drugs. Mr. Leisure-Suited Green Jeans had set him up with a palm-reading, mind-reading magic woman who was giving him drugs. Roger, Mission Control, we have a green light for takeoff. All systems go on freaky vision quest, his brain chimed in. A short bark of laughter escaped him before he could swallow it.
Uh-oh. Heart hammering, he looked up.
The woman was frowning.
Unable to move, Xander watched as she took a step back and turned to the desk. She scooped up the assortment of colored crystals there, held them clasped in both hands for a moment, then let them fall, raining onto the desktop and scattering across its surface.
After a long moment in which the woman stood statue-still, staring at the jumble of colors on the desk, she looked up at him. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
"You were lucky," she told him. "It could have been you, you know. But there's no escape this time." She extended one finger and traced a nail through the scattered gemstones as if following a line on a map.
"Earth swallows up water," she murmured. "What you've unleashed... We've crossed into a place of chaos. Fire takes to the air. It sees..." She continued to stare at the colored gems.
Xander cleared his throat nervously. Standing there, listening to the witch-woman make her disturbing pronouncements... it was freaking him out more than a little, something he couldn't even begin to explain to himself. For gossakes, he'd been around supernatural happenings for what seemed forever. His best friend was maybe the most powerful witch in the world. But even Willow, when she had gone on her dark magic rampage, hadn't made him feel the size of her power the way he was feeling it right now... the connection to something huge and roiling, something coiled tight inside every moment and memory and molecule.
The dark woman's eyes as she looked at him were huge, like dusty marbles. The colored gems glittered, and oh, hello, the shop seemed way too small and stifling, the bookshelves too high, the darkness too oppresive, the air too choked with dust, and even the damn cat was beginning to look suspicious. Panic rose up in him like tidal wave. Hit the road, Jack, don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more. The thoughts came in a jittery, increasingly loud rush. Get out get out get out getoutgetoutgetout
"Hey, is that the time?" he found himself yammering hoarsely, barely able to hear himself over the roaring in his ears. "I uh..." he hefted his hands, stuffed with objects. "Thanks for everything, really, but I'm not so much for the whole Ms. Cleo thing. I mean, in my experience..."
"I don't want to know your future," the woman growled, without turning. She was still staring at the desk. Hadn't she just been looking at him? And why hadn't he asked her name? What was her name?
"Your future isn't the problem," the woman continued. "It's your past. Until you understand that, you can do nothing." One slim, braceleted hand was now pointed at the door. "Get out. There's nothing more for you here."
"Right." 'Nuff said. Xander fumbled behind him for the doorknob, then all but threw himself through the door into the street.
Outside, the sun hung lower in the sky, veiled by rising smoke. There were tourists just down the street, happily taking pictures. A teenage girl stood astride a bicycle, drinking thirstily from a bottle of water. As he stood frozen on the sidewalk, heart racing, the girl lowered her bottle and looked at him--really looked at him, with a weird, wide grin on her face.
I don't want to know your future.
Xander didn't even know when he'd begun to back away and then run. He only realized it when he was halfway down the street, his feet beating the pavement as if the devil himself were at his heels.
............
Minutes later, they were on the road again. The van rolled on, away from the city, and Xander rolled up the window to muffle the sounds of breaking glass that echoed behind them. He did not look back.
toysdream's new chapter titles, but for now, I've at least created a memories page for the previous parts here. Incidentally, this is the first chapter where I've contributed a significant amount of writing, so if the quality of writing drops significantly, I'm the one to blame. As usual, all comments / criticisms much appreciated.
ACT FOUR: PILLAR OF SALT
It wasn't until they were crossing Nevada that they began to see the signs. Graciela, staring idly out the rear windows of the minivan as Bet dozed fitfully beside her, was the first to spot them.
"Hey, is there something written on that rock?" Graciela pressed her face to the window, peering at a boulder that jutted from the ground perhaps a quarter of a mile to the side of the highway.
Xander turned to deliver some reassuring, dismissive comment, but then his eye took in the rocky slab and widened in alarm. "Kennedy. Pull over, quick. Anyplace you can."
Kennedy raised a questioning eyebrow, but did as he asked. She swung the van across the sparsely populated lanes and onto the shoulder of the highway, where it came to rest in a cloud of dust. Xander immediately popped open the side door and began striding briskly towards the rock. The others came trotting after him, leaving the sleeping Bet in the back seat.
Xander stopped a couple of yards in front of the boulder, and the rest of the group gathered behind him. He was staring down at the rock, hands on hips, silently contemplating the dark smears on its surface.
"I don't get it," Lo said. "What's that supposed to be saying? This way to Burning Man?"
Neena pursed her lips and frowned at the object before them. "Doesn't it remind you of last night? The symbols, or whatever they were, that were written in that alley?" In blood, she thought but didn't say aloud. Written in blood. By Veronica Lin.
At last, Xander spoke. "They look like those funky letters that the Harbingers had carved into their eyes." He stepped closer and knelt down to touch the smudged symbols. "I don't know what this gunk is supposed to be. Maybe it's blood, but it looks like it's been burnt."
"They're runes." Willow, who had been lagging a little behind the rest of the group, had finally caught up to them. "I don't remember what language, but we looked up some stuff on them a few months ago when we were researching the Harbingers. They're, uh, for controlling and influencing. I think that was it."
"Dominion..." They looked back, startled, and saw that Bet had wandered up behind them as well. She was wobbling slightly as she walked, and her eyes were half-open and unfocused; she looked for all the world as if she were sleepwalking. "Dominion over the land, and them that sleep beneath it, and them that walk upon it. This is the brand. This is the seal."
Her comrades stepped aside as Bet shuffled on towards the rock, and they reached out to her tentatively, as if worried she was going to fall. "Do you think we should wake her up? Isn't that supposed to be a bad idea?" Willow whispered, and Kennedy quietly replied that that was probably just an urban legend.
"I am the eye that watches." Bet directed a wavering finger at a single rune at the top of the boulder, then moved it in a slow clockwise circle, pointing out the other symbols that were distributed around the edges of the rock's face like points on a compass. "I am the tongue that tells. I am the ear that listens. I am the hand--ow!"
Stubbing her toe on a protruding stone, Bet was suddenly wide awake. She hopped back, favoring her bruised foot, and her blonde curls flapped as she looked back and forth at the worried faces that surrounded her. "Huh? What's going on? Did we stop?"
Xander stood up and placed a steadying hand on Bet's shoulder, peering at her with anxious concern. "Elizabeth, are you okay?"
Neena, Lo, and Graciela crowded in around them. "Hey, Bet, I've got a great idea," Lo said. "Don't ever do that kind of creepy shit again."
Kennedy stepped forward and planted a boot on the rock's sloping face. "Controlling and influencing, huh? Influencing who, to do what?" She licked an index finger and leaned down to rub at one of the runes. "And who's the joker who put this here in the first place?" But no matter how hard she scrubbed, the mark appeared indelible.
Even under intensive questioning, Bet insisted that she had no recollection of the words she'd been reciting, and they were unable to coax any more out of her. After Willow had snapped a few digital camera pictures for later analysis, they decided there was nothing more to be learned, and the group plodded back to the van and resumed their journey.
By the time they were approaching Salt Lake City, they'd spotted several more of the seals, etched on rocks, on hillsides, and even into the soil of a withering fruit orchard. The frequency seemed to be increasing as the van drew nearer the city, and the last few all appeared to be drawn so that the runes faced directly toward the metropolitan area.
As they rounded the southern shore of the lake, they noticed plumes of smoke rising from what appeared to be the city center. Xander, who was now in the driver's seat, rolled down the window and listened intently for a minute. "I think I hear sirens. Scratch that. A lot of sirens."
Kennedy leaned forward, resting an elbow on the headrest of Willow's seat. "Maybe that answers my question. I'm starting to think we should stay someplace else tonight."
Xander nodded as he rolled up the window. "You may be right. I think I've seen George Romero movies that begin like this. But if it's okay with you guys, I'd like to make a quick stop for gas and groceries." He felt in his jacket pocket for a moment, making sure the folded slip of paper was still there. "And I might have, uh, one little errand to run while we're here."
Willow and Kennedy exchanged quizzical glances. "What kind of errand?" Willow asked.
Xander shrugged innocently. "No big. I just wanted to take a look at something." And they drove on into the city.
............
"Can I help you?"
The voice took Xander by surprise and he jumped. "Whoa, there," he laughed, his hand leaping up to clutch at his racing heart. His other hand let go of the door he'd been holding open and it swung shut behind him with a too-loud slam, a bell jingling in its wake. The sound gave him a sudden Magic Box flashback, and his heart responded with a nostalgic throb.
The woman eyeing him now wasn't Anya, however--she was small and dark, her hair arranged in glossy braids thickly woven with beads. She looked at him with the patience of a practiced shopkeeper, well used to strangers wandering in with their problems. She smiled, waiting.
"Uh..." For some reason, he was having a hard time getting started. He glanced around the shop as if looking for inspiration. From the outside it had looked like a typical palm-reader's storefront--tacky poster of a gypsy reading a crystal ball, oversized tarot cards, a carved symbol of a mystic eye--but inside, it resembled a frowsy bookshop, floor littered with stacks of boxes, floor-to-ceiling shelves layered with dust. Sunlight filtered in through an opening in a heavy velvet curtain and lit an ornate wooden desk littered with colored cystals and small metal items. A cat dozed near the door, partially hidden by a potted plant.
Xander cleared his throat and started again. Lorne. Mention Lorne. "This, uh... a friend referred me to you. He's got a, you know, skin condition. Sort of a color issue. Although color is good, of course. He said you could show me..."
"Show you," the woman repeated, her smile turning Mona Lisa ambiguous. "Lorne didn't say I could 'show' you anything. He told you I could help you see." She extended an arm draped with bracelets, motioning him closer. He stepped forward as if pulled on a string.
She studied him, head to foot, and he just stood there, mesmerized, as she raised a hand to touch his face. It was only when she moved to lift his eyepatch that he flinched away with a nervous laugh.
"See. Yeah. That's why I'm here. To see. See what I'm not sure, but..."
The woman's smile faded. "You have a long journey to make," she said. "About the longest you can go on without dying... although you might want to know you're risking that as well. Are you ready to risk that, dying? Just for knowledge?"
"I've risked more than that for less." The words just came out of his mouth, and he frowned even as he spoke. He'd planned on making light of the idea, saying something funny, but apparently his brain had other plans. Or is it her? Is she doing something to me? he wondered in a hazy panic.
As if she'd heard the thought, the woman lifted an eyebrow in response, turned away, and padded across the carpet to the far wall, where she began to rifle silently through a series of cardboard boxes.
Xander shifted position awkwardly, waiting. He noted a selection of carved masks peeping out from the gloomy shop walls and idly wondered what a shop like this was doing in Salt Lake City, of all places. The whole magic-voodoo-Wicca thing didn't really seem like a good fit with clean-cut Mormons. Although there is that polygamy thing, Xander found himself thinking, then mentally shook himself.
A spoken word from the witch-woman brought his attention back to the shop. There were now a number of small items arrayed on the scuffed desktop: small bones, feathers, a bundle of sticks, what looked like rocks, a clay statue. The woman traced a fingertip through the dust, pointing at the items in sequence.
"These are to be placed in a circle around you in this order, this incense lit outside the circle, you are to sit within," she said briskly, then handed him a sheet of lined note paper and a small canvas bag. "Make tea with this. Follow the instructions exactly, then drink it when you're in the circle." She lifted her head, stared him straight in the eye, and tapped the bag with a lacquered nail. "Don't try to cross the border with this," she cautioned. "The dogs really won't like you."
"Yeah, well, if the Canadian Mounties were the worst I had to worry about I wouldn't be here." Again, the words were blurted out before they even had time to register in his brain. Some kind of joke-distortion field, gotta be.
Skin crawling, Xander obediently swept up the objects on the desk into his cupped hands. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he was pretty certain that it hadn't been this. He'd figured a talisman, a chant, some incense and some incantation he had to read to a statue maybe, but no. Drugs. Mr. Leisure-Suited Green Jeans had set him up with a palm-reading, mind-reading magic woman who was giving him drugs. Roger, Mission Control, we have a green light for takeoff. All systems go on freaky vision quest, his brain chimed in. A short bark of laughter escaped him before he could swallow it.
Uh-oh. Heart hammering, he looked up.
The woman was frowning.
Unable to move, Xander watched as she took a step back and turned to the desk. She scooped up the assortment of colored crystals there, held them clasped in both hands for a moment, then let them fall, raining onto the desktop and scattering across its surface.
After a long moment in which the woman stood statue-still, staring at the jumble of colors on the desk, she looked up at him. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
"You were lucky," she told him. "It could have been you, you know. But there's no escape this time." She extended one finger and traced a nail through the scattered gemstones as if following a line on a map.
"Earth swallows up water," she murmured. "What you've unleashed... We've crossed into a place of chaos. Fire takes to the air. It sees..." She continued to stare at the colored gems.
Xander cleared his throat nervously. Standing there, listening to the witch-woman make her disturbing pronouncements... it was freaking him out more than a little, something he couldn't even begin to explain to himself. For gossakes, he'd been around supernatural happenings for what seemed forever. His best friend was maybe the most powerful witch in the world. But even Willow, when she had gone on her dark magic rampage, hadn't made him feel the size of her power the way he was feeling it right now... the connection to something huge and roiling, something coiled tight inside every moment and memory and molecule.
The dark woman's eyes as she looked at him were huge, like dusty marbles. The colored gems glittered, and oh, hello, the shop seemed way too small and stifling, the bookshelves too high, the darkness too oppresive, the air too choked with dust, and even the damn cat was beginning to look suspicious. Panic rose up in him like tidal wave. Hit the road, Jack, don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more. The thoughts came in a jittery, increasingly loud rush. Get out get out get out getoutgetoutgetout
"Hey, is that the time?" he found himself yammering hoarsely, barely able to hear himself over the roaring in his ears. "I uh..." he hefted his hands, stuffed with objects. "Thanks for everything, really, but I'm not so much for the whole Ms. Cleo thing. I mean, in my experience..."
"I don't want to know your future," the woman growled, without turning. She was still staring at the desk. Hadn't she just been looking at him? And why hadn't he asked her name? What was her name?
"Your future isn't the problem," the woman continued. "It's your past. Until you understand that, you can do nothing." One slim, braceleted hand was now pointed at the door. "Get out. There's nothing more for you here."
"Right." 'Nuff said. Xander fumbled behind him for the doorknob, then all but threw himself through the door into the street.
Outside, the sun hung lower in the sky, veiled by rising smoke. There were tourists just down the street, happily taking pictures. A teenage girl stood astride a bicycle, drinking thirstily from a bottle of water. As he stood frozen on the sidewalk, heart racing, the girl lowered her bottle and looked at him--really looked at him, with a weird, wide grin on her face.
I don't want to know your future.
Xander didn't even know when he'd begun to back away and then run. He only realized it when he was halfway down the street, his feet beating the pavement as if the devil himself were at his heels.
............
Minutes later, they were on the road again. The van rolled on, away from the city, and Xander rolled up the window to muffle the sounds of breaking glass that echoed behind them. He did not look back.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 12:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 02:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 03:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 02:04 pm (UTC)Don't worry. That's not how we work. All this has honestly been thought out ahead of time.
But that said, I can't tell you anything about what does or doesn't happen to Lo. Or any of them. The suspense thing. I'm sure you understand.
Lorne told Xander that....? ((goes back to check)) hunh, no, it ain't there. I can buy that Lorne told Xander off-camera, but at first I thought I was just remembering me wrong, which sorta jolted me out of the narrative. But that's piddly, really.
Yeah, I was kinda worried about that. Yes, the idea was that Lorne told him about the fortune-teller off camera, just after he said "you can help these girls"... maybe we should go back and insert a little bit there about a sympathetic shoulder pat and Lorne slipping him a piece of paper with a name and address... the hubby and I will confer.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 02:53 pm (UTC)(Previous comment redacted. Just conferred with the Hook and thought things out ahead of time. :-)
Yeah, I was kinda worried about that. Yes, the idea was that Lorne told him about the fortune-teller off camera, just after he said "you can help these girls"... maybe we should go back and insert a little bit there about a sympathetic shoulder pat and Lorne slipping him a piece of paper with a name and address...
I do love the current ending of chapter two, though. Maybe we can work in a bit of setup exposition in the third installment...
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 01:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 01:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 02:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 02:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-20 03:17 pm (UTC)