Re: New Fic - Above, Between, Below

[deixs]

Hey Piper,



Great update!

I hope Willow will find Tara soon!!



Stef

[SilverWingedNemesis]

YAY!!!



MORE MORE MORE!!





~NICKOLE~

[samiamiguess]

Glad you managed to revive your computer, if not the chapter. Extra appreciation for re-writing it. You're a doll.



So anyway, go Willow. Now that she has had her epiphany or two she knows what she wants. Tara, oh yes Tara. Hopefully she can find a way to restore Tara's faith in herself and what they can have.



Lovin' this so thanks

(and twelfth night is my favourite of Shakespeare's so thanks for the quote too..have a mind to read it again tonight now)

Sonya

[the vamp nurd]

Tara = magic aw.... .



"Start a love train love train..."

[barnabasvamp]

The girls naked, nice..

The shower, even better..

"Forceful" Tara, Priceless

Ahem....*composes self*, However I have to admit I most enjoyed the inner conersations Both Tara and Willow had about the relationship, and the possibility of being caught!

Great update

"In front of total strangers won't you kiss me, Flowers for no reason but you miss me - OOH, I wanna be in love"

Melissa Etheridge-Skin

[tkheaven]

YAY update!! Glad to see your computer's up and running again. Willow needs to go find Tara and tell *ahem* or uh, show her how she feels, well, um, some more that it...

Tk's new and improved "GrrArgg"...Tk's Heaven

---

"I've become really protective of her. I want to make sure if Tara comes back, it's for good reason." -Amber Benson
Tara ate her, devoured her from beneath. -The Edge of Silence giving new meaning to this season's catch phrase.
"Got it: that's a 'yes' to petals; a 'no' to pricks. I should remember that more often." -On Second Thought

[Sister Bertrille]

What strikes me in this update is how in tune Willow’s and Tara’s desires are (neither one wants to be careful, does she?) but how impossible it is sometimes to convey with one’s body what one can with a few simple words. So no one is leaving this shower until you talk to each other!



It would seem that the

Quote:

---

curious confluence of coincidence in the language of symbols both inherent in magic and science

---

is incomplete, in moments such as these, without the magic of words inherent in language! So alchemy, good, but alchemy and poetry, better. It’s all in the numbers and in the letters.



Just like this absolutely marvelous and literate story.



SB

[The Rose24]

There is an awful lot of running away in this fic. Who will stop running first?

Tara: My heart doesn't stutter.


Tara: Willow, I got so lost.

Willow: I found you. I will always find you.

[RaiStarr]

Day-um that was so good. You do such exquisite things with words. I am awestruck.



Rai

[mollyig]

Both our girls letting their fears rule their actions for the moment. Willow's thoughts on the beauty of magic turning naturally to Tara was lovely. As always, your descriptions are so rich, and a delight to read. Thanks.

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[Twisted Minstrel]

Back again....with a tiny update, but first - the feedback!



WiccansIllusion - More? Okay. Since you asked so nicely.



Deixs - Thank you, thank you! Twas nothing.



Nickole - You want more, too? Gosh. Thanks!



Sonya - Glad you like...Twelfth Night is a favorite of mine, too. I had the great fortune of playing Viola once in a college production of it. I don't think I was very good, but it was simply the best fun - and I got to kiss a girl, too.



Grimmy - I agree with you. Good Things (tm) are essential. A note on your confusion over Willow's experiment - a simple allegory. She is combining unusual sciences, ancient and modern that are not usually connected. But she sees the sameness of the work and at the same time, (with some finality) realizes her connection to Tara. Hope that made sense!



The Vamp Nurd - No question. Thanks for reading!!



Barnabasvamp - Thank you! More to...er, come.



tkheaven - I agree. Absolutely. Thanks muchly!



Sister Bertrille - Gosh! Talking is essential, but language (as you know) is not merely words. They have a lot to teach one another, I think.



The Rose24 - Have faith! This is W/T, after all, you know. We're getting there....



Rai - Gosh thanks! I also do exquisite things with other, less symbolic...um, things, too.



Mollyig - Always sweet of you. Thank you so much!



Okay...here it is, just a smidgeon, appropriately titled:



Microcosm





For Cath…will you?







“Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”

        - Lewis Carroll (Charles Dodgson), Alice in Wonderland







Alone is nowhere and everyone knows it. We’ve all been there. This is where the music stops; no frequencies can reach it. It’s all static and bee hums. The Last Chance for Gas was a few exits back. Dust bunnies don’t like visitors. There’s no scenery, no shade, nothing to hang our thoughts on and no one to care if we can’t. The birds won’t wing it out here and why should the sun shine just for you? The universal utility bill is already past due; time to build our little fires and keep warm as best we can. Unless someone has a better idea, that is.





Rushing back to her room, clutching her side from the stitch that left her breathless, Tara fell on her bed, and screamed, sort of, into her pillow.



The scream wasn’t an actual scream since it was mostly muffled by the bedding, and audible only to her and the feckless dust bunnies that were pirouetting and frolicking aimlessly through the air around her.



Her clothes felt plastered to her skin and she raised herself from the bed, ripping her t-shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her cargos went next, flying in the opposite direction, followed by her bra and panties; the dust bunnies were not amused by all the sudden aerial activity and decided to settle themselves elsewhere. Several departed for other dorms while a few of the more adventurous ones set off for Africa and Australia (it was even rumored that two or three set off for fame and fortune in Hollywood, but this isn’t their story).



Being naked and alone is not always a useless thing. Down to the bare essentials or less is often a precursor to Serious Thoughts. Free of all physical constraints, one can really get down to business with oneself and not worry about having to iron things out later.



Inwardly, she marveled at her own boldness, something she didn’t think she was capable of. All the fears she had grown up with, her father’s harsh criticism of her every indulgence, driving her backwards, into her room, door closed, lights off, no friends allowed, no friends period, no one to play with, no one to talk to – save her mother. The only friend she’d ever had, the only person she felt safe with. She wanted her mother now; she wanted to cry for her, beg her to come and make it better. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.



She had tried to be brave, to be blunt, even. She’d never wanted anything so much. Willow was…well, what was she, exactly? A genius, certainly; who else could verbalize random calculations off the top of her head in seconds flat, without even thinking? Fussy, neurotic, silly, babbling, sweet Willow. Willow, who couldn’t make a decision to save her life; who made her spine tingle with perpetual anticipation. Willow. Willow tree-weep-for-me-Willow-my-Will-who-is-never-here. What am I doing wrong?



Willow thoughts were such helpless things for her. Sprawling on her back, Tara’s eyes closed, remembering the sweetest moment of her life, that simple, unnecessary question.



Can I kiss you again?



She still felt Willow’s kisses, and Willow’s hands, her body remembered and shivered.



Why do I keep letting her go?



She knew she had made a mistake, that morning, after Willow hit her head. She should have pinned Willow then, just held her in place, when she woke, too scared to speak, for longing, for sweet, mindless shock that left her feeling so empty afterward. She wanted that moment again, that pleasant, wet ache, the throb of her most sensitive point, and Willow, languid, sleepy, circling - dancing outside of her, kissing her with her fingers.



A fine invention, that. Hands. Fingers. The opposable thumb. That which separates us from the beasts. Hands to make things with, to mold and manipulate, to torture and tease, to wave with or write love letters to strangers, or -



She’d found a rhythm in her thoughts; her back arched and her legs splayed in opposite directions, her own fingers wishing they were someone else’s, she indulged in the loneliest of sports, the One-Handed Slalom. Sloping downwards, this way and that, from side to side, over and around, flying slowly, carefully, slippery, reaching tiny peaks and falling again, her legs bent, brow furrowed in concentration, in focus on the finish, the checkered flag in site, waving in the air, suddenly rushing, forward, too fast, her breath hitching, around her the sense of a crowd, cheering and Willow, yes, Willow, too, holding the flag, waving, smiling, Willow, falling too, catching her, the most exquisite moment, flashing, ebbing, she cried out; she was crying.



Willow.



Overhead, unseen, waltzing and frolicking madly, the particles of universal matter, not ones to be left out of anything, snickered at the human race.



Alone, indeed.



You silly, silly people.

"Human kind cannot bear much reality." - T.S. Eliot

[Grimlock72]

Rather sad update that



I do hope Tara will figure out she needs to act on her feelings a bit more, at least tell Willow. Heck, it can't get worse then this "getting close/running away" kinda thing.



Evil dust particles btw. , never saw them like that...hmm...



Grimmy

"You hurt Tara," Willow said too calmly. "The last one who tried that was a god. I made her regret it." -- Unexpected Consequences by Lisa of Nine

[dykeleen]

Twisted,

I have seen your replys on Lisa Countrymans Milestones you are so intuitive and I had to seek you out!

I figured if you were that clever with your replys that you had to be agreat writer

So I did and I found this fic!

Fight away I love this fic and I am only on the first chapter! Tha chronicals of Narnia that was the first thing that caught my eye! I loved that series I still have it in hard cover from when I was a kid!

And that traid mark grin of Taras gets me every time. I love that

I cant wait to see what happens next!

Thanks fo writing!

Dykeleen

Edited by: dykeleen at: 12/22/02 5:24:44 am

[samiamiguess]

From dust bunnies to universal matter, such a poignant update.



Loved the line Down to the bare essentials or less is often a precursor to Serious Thoughts. Free of all physical constraints, one can really get down to business with oneself and not worry about having to iron things out later. Really amused me.



Such silly people indeed but love can be such an emotional thing. Perhaps the universe can give them a little push, or a kick up the backside, whatever works for you..



enjoy the holiday spirits,

Sonya

[Sister Bertrille]

After I read this chapter, I kept thinking of the Prince song (dating myself horribly, I know!):

Quote:

---

Ronnie talk to Russia before it’s too late

before it’s too late

before it’s too late

Ronnie talk to Russia before it’s too late

---

On to other funkadelic matters: I really love the disconnect you create between the end of the last chapter and this one, with Willow’s epiphany, her realization that:

Quote:

---

It’s all patterns and relationships, form and symmetry. Balance. Pairing disparate objects and codes to find new sources, or make better ones. Alchemy.

---

contrasting sharply with Tara’s isolation and self-doubt -- her microcosm. You sum up her solitude wonderfully here:

Quote:

---

…no one to play with, no one to talk to – save her mother…

---

Preposition, imperative, or both?

Quote:

---

You silly, silly people.

---

Yes, but you don’t have to, um, rub it in!



SB

[RaiStarr]

That was wonderfully sad...



More please?



Rai

[Insanity]

So.. puh.. This was intens...

Poor Tara....Why do they keep running away from each other?? Stupid girls...



Insanity

"Nobody messes with my girl!" Tara, Bargaining

[mollyig]

Tara's sense of being alone portrayed so well. Naturally her thoughts would turn to the loss of her mother, and her solitary existence pre-Willow.

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[singgirl]

Wow, I just caught up, and I really love what you are doing with this fic. Wish I had started reading this earlier.

Pax! -Bev

[deixs]

That was a sad update!

I hope they will find each other soon!!!



Stef

[4evaWill]

I'm back. And absolutely furious at myself for missing this...



Guess what? You've done it again. Is there, like, an alternate language or something for people that get speechless easily? Because otherwise I am gonna forget what it's like to talk.



No other writing can get me this involved, entranced or whatever that word is. I'm a numpty-headed pemsnit. Begging for your forgiveness for being away (I'd much rather be here) I shall leave plenty of chocolate smothered kisses and any other chocolate to think of. I so loved the updates and am gonna run away now and scold myself... not unless you want to scold me for me, huh?



In answer to your question... I will.

Cath

Tara: No, I-I understand. You have to be with the person you l-love.

Willow: I am.

[Twisted Minstrel]

Hello Kitties...sorry, no update as of yet. I'm having a hideous time putting things back together and my schedule just isn't allowing for much. I very humbly beg each of your pardons for my tardiness...



Grimmy - Sorry you (and others) thought the update was sad. I often take for granted that simply because I know there's going to be a happy ending, no one will take it quite so seriously. However, we are leaving the sadness behind us, as well we should.



On another note, I've never been in a relationship where there wasn't some form of running away now and again; I don't know anyone who doesn't. Sometimes the fear is equal to the thrill of finding someone new, of finding you have feelings for that person you weren't expecting. I don't think either Will or Tara are particularly sad; afraid, yes, definitely; sad, no. And I mark a clear difference between the transient sadness of grief, which passes in time (if you let it), such as Tara's grief for her mother and both her and Willow's fears of being alone or unloved. All things pass; but in my fic, they just pass more slowly.



Dykeleen - Hey there, thanks for reading. I must confess though, I've not read Milestones yet, so I don't think it was my clever posts you were referring to (unless it was for another story?)...although my evil twin maybe lurking about...but however you came by, glad you did!



Sonya - The universe is about to unfold for our girls. Thanks for reading and posting!



Sister Bertrille - Gosh, I inspired a Prince quote. That's really something. Yes, they've been getting caught in their own cross-hairs, as befits young lovers. I admit 30 odd pages of tortured foreplay is a lot, but I like to take my time. Sorry to rub the silliness in...



Rai - You are welcome. Yes you may have more, but not quite yet. Note: apologies in the first paragraph of this post.



Insanity - Oh, they're not stupid, just a wee bit nervous. We'll be moving along shortly. Thank you for reading!



Mollyig - You are always generous and I thank you; we'll be on our way to Happy Land very shortly...if I can just find the parking brake we'll be on our way...



Singgirl - Glad you could join in...thank you! And peace to you (and the world) as well.



Stef - Don't worry - they will.



Cath - Very happy you are back; I can write happy things now. Couldn't do it without you. Please don't scold yourself; I'm happy to do it for you...but not here, eh?



Oh, and you will, eh? I'll meet you at the Winter's Ball over on your thread later on...I'll be the one in the long coat and scarf by the punchbowl with the vodka bon bons. Save a dance for me?





Right..I'll do my best to have the update out by tonight sometime....thanks to WiccansIllusion for kicking my backside about it.



To all of you who have stuck with it so far, my very humble and gracious thanks. I'm not worthy.



Love to all (or chocolate, whichever you prefer)...



Piper

[xita]

Hey I am all for taking it slow I get what they are going through, fear because while it may seem sudden and kind of carefree, they are feeling intense things for each other. And how can they really let go if the other is just playing. And well god, I can read about their intense kissing for days.

If I had to live my life again, I'd make the same mistakes, only sooner.

Tallulah Bankhead

[SilverWingedNemesis]

Oh my





*SIGHS* IT is so frustrating to be so scared, and yet feel so free to feel these things for someone...the scary thing..is not knowing if they feel the same way...or not...



I can't wait for another update



Keep up the great work!



~NICK~

[RalSt31]

Intense.



That's really the only word I can think of to describe this update ... well, besides the usual sycophantic but truthful - amazing, beautiful, emotional and inspiring.



Slow maybe, but good, definitely



RalSt

[Twisted Minstrel]

*Tip toes into the thread*



*Whispers* Hey, Kittens! Guess what? I've got an update for you....but I'd like to thank the following, first...



Xita - Thank you so muchly for being here...taking it slow is what it's all about. The need to rush is always present, but n one's playing around here - as we are about to find out. Hee hee.



Nick - I agree with you completely. Unrequited love SUCKS. But I don't think we have much to worry about...and my most humble apologies for not keeping up with your fic. The Busy has been eating away at the Piper, but she promises to make the time!



Ral - You are not a sycophant! Thank you for keeping with it. I know it's been trying, but thanks for the lovely comments.



And more thanks to WiccansIllusion who kicked my backside raw all week.





Without further adieu...







Good Will Rosenberg





For Cath…another dance sometime?





Say it's a form of heat that doesn't rise

But passes from one body to the next.

Say it flows through you and then out

And back in again like some ghostly thread

Weaving a basic pattern inside of you

That will slowly begin to take the shape

Of what you'll think you can describe.

        - Aaron Fagan, Love







We are looking at a picture; the image is grainy and stained like old coffee in an empty mug. Like a veil, now parting, separating in the wings. A stage set in darkness and shadow, two players strutting and fretting in shared bewilderment, separated; we are everywhere, we are spies. We have many tongues and we tell many lies.



But not today.



See? What’s this? A fair bundled Bag of Mostly Water will intervene. Oh, the suspense grips us. We are captive to it. We are slaves.



We will be good. We will behave. Stop pushing! We’re crowding! Back off!



Now…let’s have another peek, shall we…?









“Will? Will? Willow? Willow Will?”



“Will You Be My Neighbor?”



“Weeping Willow? Willow Weep for Me?”



“Free Willy. Good Will Rosenberg.”



“Earth to Willow, come in Willow.”



The spell must have been very powerful; the redhead had not moved since she entered the room. Staring, glassy-eyed at the phosphorescent colony of dots on her computer screen, Willow was nowhere to be found.



“Houston, we have a problem.”



The One Girl in All the World ™ waved a small, pale hand in front of her best friend’s expressionless face, and frowned at the lack of response. She peered closely at the young hacker’s smooth, babyish face, watching for any sign of life.



“Well, you’re not dead, so that means either: A. You’re not dead or B. Willow has left the building, or hey, thought of another: C. You’re messing with my head. Now - which of these do you think I’m likely to pinch you over?”



Ripped like paper from the sweetest of dreams, Willow’s head snapped around, almost angrily, bringing her nose to nose with a very startled Slayer.



“Buffy! Oh! Hey! It’s Buffy. The Buffster. Hey. Buffy!”



Frowning, Buffy felt the forehead of the other girl, still peering closely at she knew not what – they did it in movies, was all she knew and it seemed like a good idea.



“You okay Will? Kind of making with the wiggins there for a stretch. Stony Will: not Peppy Study Will.”



Buffy straightened herself, allowing the redhead to rise, stiffly, from her seat. She was momentarily startled by the sudden realization the sun was down. Smothering darkness prevailed outside, and she almost thought she could hear the tinny chattering of voices overhead, like mice in her grandmother’s attic. In the flickering light of her monitor, motes of intimate matter circled as graceful as falling snow. She might have been caught up in one of those glass globes you can buy at the tourist shops. Did someone turn her world upside down? Someone who was now peering closely inside, waiting to see how she would react?



“Buffy! Oh! Sorry! I think I dozed off there for a bit. Hee hee.”



“Will – you were catatonic.”



“Uh? With the what? Oh! No! No! I was just…relaxed, you know? Very…relaxing, sitting and not moving. And…hey! Look at us! Same room and everything.”



Buffy’s frown turned bittersweet at the generous, open smile of her friend. Willow’s eyes were scared, as usual, but her smile was always brave and welcoming. No, they had not been in the same room for more than two seconds altogether much of late. But things were different now. There was Riley to be with and Adam to worry about and Will…Will had other things, too. Tara, for example. Tara, whom she knew nothing about. Tara, who was nice and all, but not really of a social, interactive bent. A witch of uncertain ability and skill and spending an awful lot of time with Willow…



“Yeah. We are. Hey! Got plans and I need my Will. Scooby study session in the library. Could use a good hacker. What do you say?”



“Scooby study?”



Willow’s face fell; her internal gears shifted, grinding to a halt. Forward momentum meant Tara, seeking Tara, finding Tara, being with Tara and….other things with Tara. She listened to Buffy’s voice, now slow and deep, like a gurgle rising from a well, underwater, drowned. Or record, played backwards, revealing a satanic message.



“Yeah, study…synonymous with Willow…or is it anonymous? No, that’s like alcoholism or something. Synchronize? Like our watches? Or is that just swimming?”



Willow could not translate; her friend was talking, but she couldn’t make out the words.



Study? Swimming? I don’t have time for that!



“Uh, Buffy?”



The Blonde Moment interrupted, Buffy tilted her head to one side, a familiar gesture of attentiveness, and regarded the increasingly agitated redhead.



“What Will?”



“Uh, hey, I’ve got kind of another, uh, study-type thing I was doing and, uh, maybe, y’know, I could meet you later?”



The Slayer’s Frown returned, complete with Furrowed Brow (patent pending).



“With Tara?”



“What? Oh, yeah, with Tara, sure. We have…some…really hard class-thing tomorrow….together! Too, and we’re just going to….study? Yeah, I’m thinking, sure. Cause, y’know…Willow, synonymous with study, y’know? I’ve got to go.”



Giving in to her rising panic, Willow sprinted from the room, leaving a speechless and somewhat bewildered Buffy Summers far behind...









Willow was long used to running for her life; her lithe frame made her swift and flexible, able to scramble under and over almost anything, avoiding the fang-ridden clutches of death time and time again.



She was running now, for her life, for everything; her mind, her body, every tightly-wound chromosome in her genetic makeup screaming forward, full speed ahead, not from anything, but to.



Tara.



The only word in the universe. The only thing worth exclaiming, loudly, over the rooftops, the only equation with an answer, the only theory with a proof, proven time and again, the only lips, the only hands, the only eyes in the world.



The only breasts…



She lurched, stopping abruptly, just meters from the door to her…what? Destiny?



You don’t believe things like that, Willow!



You just want to touch her again.



The nagging Gollum of her conscience kept pawing at her neck, hissing, mocking her and all she wanted to do.



Behind her was Buffy, the Scoobies and all their far-flung, nightmarish adventures. None of it seemed real anymore; the way ahead was simply forward, wasn’t it? One foot in front of the other, long strides, increasing, gaining speed, stamina and purpose with every step. No more hesitations, no more –



She’s so pretty. You just want to have the pretty part of her, don’t you? You like the pretty part. All the pretty bits and pieces, so soft and sweet and you’re nothing but a thief! A filthy, evil, monstrous thief!



If the voice had a neck, she would have wrung it; what harm could there be in this? Yes, Tara is most pretty, all her sweet, lovely bits, every inch of her, every hair, even her stutter; tongue-tied Tara to Will, pressed against a naked wall, straining, endless touching and reaching.



She swiped at the hissing thing, sending it sprawling, screaming over the quad, wailing and gnashing its dreadful teeth.



What business is it of yours? Rude much?



Her will carried her, up the stairs, through the double doors, through the winding halls, a flaming arrow to its target, slicing through the air, blinders on, one goal, one point to reach, one destination –



“Hey!”



With the full force of desire fueling her flight, Willow had not reckoned on collisions.



This was an obstacle course, after all.



Propping herself up on both elbows, Willow’s eyes followed a trail up a pair of long, bony legs, knobby knees, thighs strapped in tight biker shorts, a baggy sweatshirt and…crap.



“Oh look…its Bonanza Jellybean back from the Rubber Rose. Sorry kid. Sissy’s not home right now. Wanna leave a message?”



The words were no sooner off her lips, than the gangly frizzy-haired girl wished, desperately wished, she had never uttered them. She took a tentative step back as a snarl rose from the corner of the redhead’s mouth and she rose from the floor, growing taller it seemed, towering over her, descending upon her, green eyes ablaze with righteous fury and…



…she was so distracted she didn’t notice Willow’s fist make contact with her face.



If she had been coherent she might not have believed the smallish girl could have packed such a powerful punch, and might have even thought of a sarcastic response, but she found herself, prone, on her back, a warm trickle issuing from her nose, and what appeared to be a festival of dust mites over head, prancing, frolicking…and sticking their tongues out at her.









From the private corner of the library (art history section) she always haunted, curled up in the stuffed oversized chair that was more or less conformed to her dimensions, Tara watched, unseen (or was that invisible?) as the newcomers invaded and completely overtook the empty corner opposite (Humanities), setting up their piles of volumes like a blockade to an invading army.



She knew their names, knew their dark purpose; she wondered at them, how such ordinary and unlikely heroes could move, unnoticed amongst their peers…no, who could be their peers? These cool monster fighters?



“Crap!”



She smiled as Xander spilled his coffee on his shirt, immediately attended to by a fretful Anya and wondered momentarily, if she should report that someone was drinking in the library.



No, she wouldn’t do that. Not even to be funny.



He’s Willow’s friend. Her best friend.



As if thoughts could conjure from the thin air anything they liked, the redhead in question appeared: her eyes narrow and her jaw set in Serious Willow Mode. She was shaking her left hand back and forth, pausing momentarily to kiss her knuckles, as if they were hurt somehow…



Willow’s eyes were darting back and forth, searching the room; Tara’s heart raced as the hacker’s gaze found the Scoobies first, in their closed gathering (sorry, no strange girls admitted), then turned again, locking onto her own like a laser beam, target in her sights.



Good Will Rosenberg seemed to be torn; her friends, smiling and beckoning her to join them; and Tara, small, afraid, just staring at her, making her nerves twitch and dance; her heart surging wide as the ocean, wide as the world and just as full and round and mad and wild with hope.



Buffy rose from her seat and waved at her, motioning her to join them.



Tara, on the other hand, did not move; made no signal. Only the sadness of her eyes held her spellbound and it was as if Buffy and Xander and Giles and Anya and all of them simply didn’t exist anymore.



The hidden spotlight narrowed over them, the curtains closed, shutting them off from the rest of the world; unused to stagecraft, Willow entered the scene with a few tentatively place steps; there was only one direction here, downstage left, and, finally, with purpose she approached her co-star, the only thing that mattered, Scooby study time be damned.



Taking the blonde’s hand in her own, she led them off stage, into the quiet of the wings, away from the audience; no more rehearsals, no more strained dialogue and angsty plot twists.



From their table, Buffy and Co. watched in confuzzlement as their friend disappeared behind a tall bookshelf with the blonde Wicca; all save Anya, who rolled her eyes and sniggered at the cluelessness of the present company.





Beneath a captive audience, the two actors found their lines within the others lips; spoke them with the other’s tongue and lost themselves in the pages of their searching hands.



The audience (dressed in their finest grey filaments), gave a standing ovation and applauded wildly.





TBC…

"Human kind cannot bear much reality." - T.S. Eliot

[xita]

I loved this installment, or act maybe. Your play on the voyeuristic readership and the staging of their scenes was very interesting. I was amused by the snow globe comparison hee, the falling snow on Willow's computer screen and by the lights at the end baring witness to not a staging but more of an improvisation of love.

If I had to live my life again, I'd make the same mistakes, only sooner.

Tallulah Bankhead

[Sister Bertrille]

Thank you so much for that – as Corky said to Violet, “I can see again!”



My friend Michael once said, “All narrative is foreplay.” To which my friend Mary, equally drunk, replied, “It’s all foreplay before the narrative.” So don’t sweat the “angsty plot twists”: you should instead be thrilled with the knowledge that you have been writing in not one, but two proud literary traditions!



Immensely creative (and entertaining) your way of shifting the metaphorical and here delightfully literal spotlight off Miss In Every Generation to W/T. I always chuckle, okay, roll my eyes and scoff at that scene in “Seeing Red” when a very naked W/T, after months apart, kiss passionately in bed and then immediately start talking about…Buffy! Nice to see the other side of that particular coin...



I also loved the Good Will Rosenberg references, what with the math (she says, her palms sweating), the fisticuffs, the light bulb moment, and the delicious “having to see about a girl.” Does this mean that Willow now talks like everyone in my family?!



Oh, and the picture you paint is anything but “grainy” and “stained,” and your audience is captivated rather than “captive.” Standing ovation from this Ugly Bag of Mostly Water,



SB



PS Is a mote like a speck on steroids?

[Rane]

this is so fantastic! i love it all, esp the the 'cowgirls' reference and all the other stuff in the middle. so beautiful crafted! thanks so much for this

"We're forgetting about the troll.
Let's pay attention to the troll." Tara, Triangle

[SilverWingedNemesis]

AHH!!



GREAT update! I love this...it's just....You write SO well! You really give it a lot of feeling and emotion... I LOVE IT!!



Keep up the great work!



...Amazing!...





~NICK~

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*Looks around and waits...waits for the love of her life...*