redstringed | ✿6 [Accidental Voice / Action]

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✿6 [Accidental Voice / Action]

[Voice]

*The journal starts picking up the sounds of a fight in progress, as if someone had dropped their journal accidentally.* Noel, get back!

*Then, odd whooshes of air and the sound of metal striking metal - but they're interrupted by a crack of thunder. There's silence for a few moments, and then a second, louder clap of thunder, followed shortly by the sound of furniture breaking and another voice - some might recognize it as Noel Vermillion - shouting.* Rachel! Ahh...

*Silence, interrupted only by the sound of metal footsteps. But then the first voice speaks again, though it seems slightly weaker.* You dare...?! Do... not turn your backs... on me...!

Baden Baden Lil--

*The speaker is suddenly cut off, and the journal is splattered by little crimson droplets, as though someone was writing in it. There's a thump and the sound of something - or someone - being dragged away, and then silence. The feed cuts out.*

[Action]

*Where are you? What are you doing? It doesn't matter, because there's a young girl dressed in a frilly gothic lolita dress teleporting near to you with a shower of roses. She looks rather beaten-up, and is clutching a bleeding wound at her stomach.

Needless to say, Rachel does not look happy. This wasn't where she wanted to end up.*

***

((OOC: So, Rachel tried to get some revenge on the Malnosso by attacking the droids coming to kidnap Noel. She failed spectacularly. So she's wounded, unable to focus on her teleportation, and she's taken a heavy blow to her pride. This won't end well.))

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[Xander soon returns with his first aid kit and some fresh towels. One of the benefits of working for a Slayer is that you learn to be prepared for stuff like this. Mostly. He kneels down beside her again and wonders where to begin.]

So the droid things---I can't believe you escaped them. Normally they drag people off no matter what, or so I heard.

*She just looks down at him with irritation unmasked on her face, whether it's at his persistence or her failure - or both.* ...I was not their target. It was... an opportunity.

[He nods.]

Uh...can I see what I'm dealing with here?

You are not dealing with anything, and if you believe I am about to expose myself to you, you have quite the vulgar little mind.

So what's my job, to just let you bleed all over the couch? [He offers her a towel.] I don't want to get all up in your space, Rachel. Really. Just---take this.

...the wound is already beginning to close. *Wounded pride is wounded. She'll take the towel anyway.*

Wow, so you ARE like Buffy. With the healing, I mean. She'd never wear her hair like that. And she's, you know, not a vampire.

Listen, uh---you can't---please don't tell anyone about this, okay?

...I assure you, I have absolutely no intention of doing so.

What is it that you fear, anyway?

[How to answer that? "I need to look like I hate all vampires?" "I'll lose face with my friends?" "Because I'll get thrown right off my high horse when it comes to Spike?"

The rift he'd felt with Buffy and the rest of his friends was still there, no matter how hard he tried to pretend it wasn't. They had expectations of him. He'd already happened, for them. Whoever he is--On the Road, setting out, trying to become--that doesn't matter to the gang. This Xander is over. Ended. Then, suddenly, there's the smell of smoke and burning food somehow conspires to rescue him, at least briefly, as he dashes back to the kitchen.]

MY WAFFLES!

*Rachel exhales.

He's going to blame her for that, isn't he.*

[Xander is busy putting out a small fire, and when he does return to the living room he kneels down by Rachel's side and speaks in hurried tones.]

You can't tell them because it wouldn't look right. [This is the closest he'll get to sharing any fears with Rachel right now.]

*And then, comprehension - though she'd had a feeling it was something like this.* You don't wish them to know you were aiding a vampire, for then they would see you as a hypocrite.

You needn't worry. If you believe that I would crow about receiving even the slightest aid from an impulsive and hardly-cultured teen-aged male human, then you clearly know nothing about me.

I didn't say you'd crow about it.

Perhaps not, but the idea is much the same.

I assure you, I will tell no one.

How does it feel now?

I am in no danger of bleeding to death, if that is your question. Pain can be tolerated.

Does their disapproval truly mean so much to you?

I can run out and get you some kind of painkiller if you want. [Ignoring the question for now.]

It is nothing I am incapable of handling.

It is also very rude to ignore a question.

[GAH Rachel you kill him. Really.]

YES. Yes. Their disapproval is not something I want, because it means I have to accept certain situations that I don't approve of. I get to be the disapproving one. ME. No one else.

[Xander's family has always disappointed him. He holds his friends, therefore, on a much higher level. And therefore they have further to fall.]

*They see me trollan, they hatin'.*

Hm. Then whether or not you consider yourself a hypocrite means little as long as they do not know. Correct?

I never said that!

That's true, you did not. I inferred it.

You don't seem to have much trouble with the concept of rendering aid to one who you know is a vampire.

Okay-okay, what should I have done, thrown you out? Besides, you're different from the vampires I know.

I did not require aid. You gave it willingly.

*A pause.* It's true. I am not like those mongrels you call vampires. You rationalize this yourself, but believe your friends incapable of doing the same.

You don't know anything about ME, or about my FRIENDS.

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