Re: New Fic - Above, Between, Below

[Tulipp]

I just LOVE what you've done with Willow's babbling here; it's perfect. I too was LMAO with the "girl bits," but just in general, you really capture her speech: the repetition, the short exclamations ("Oh!") followed by long explanations, the rapid-fire of her thoughts.



And sad for her, but I love how you've kept her clumsy side; we haven't seen that for awhile. I anticipate some painful encounters for her soon, but I'm sure it will be worth it. For her, for Tara, and for us!

"And I'm eating this banana. Lunchtime be damned!" -- Willow in "Doppelgangland

[barnabasvamp]

Excellent!!

Full babble mode Willow, and "girl bits"-just gotta love it

Then you added smoochies!!

BV

"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

[AutumnT]

LOL, the way you write Willow is cracking me the hell up. The whole speech about well proportioned girl bits. snerk. Thanks for a fun and engaging tale.

Autumn

-----------

BUFFY: I could wrestle naked in grease for a living and still be cleaner than after a shift at the Doublemeat.

WILLOW: Plus, I'd visit you at work every single day.

[SilverWingedNemesis]

Girl *bits* *GIGGLES*



I absolutely love this!! I love the way you write willow! Heck, i was trying to breathe myself!! LOL



SMOOCHIES!!!



I love this!! Can't wait for another update!!



~NICKOLE~

Edited by: Warduke at: 11/26/02 4:28:51 pm

[Sister Bertrille]

Quote:

---

”While we recognize that the notion of chance evokes all kinds of quasi-metaphysical anxieties, we really shouldn’t worry about them…”

---

Is this Heisenberg’s way of saying, “Don’t worry, be happy?!”



It isn’t anything I've thought about for a while, but I like how your story draws a subtle parallel between Tara’s stuttering and Willow’s clumsiness/babbling. Here they seem very much to be different manifestations of the same…uncertainty?



Oh, and did you know that Paul Simon took the title of “Mother and Child Reunion” from the name of a chicken-and-egg dish on a Chinese restaurant’s menu? Kinda makes me wonder about the painting!



SB

[The Rose24]

I am so glad Willow went to find Tara. She just can't stay away for long. I love your Willow-babble.



Smoochies are always are a plus.

Tara: My heart doesn't stutter.


Tara: Willow, I got so lost.

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

[Twisted Minstrel]

Gollysnoodle...I'm just overwhelmed at the response to this chapter!! I want to thank you all for reading and posting your comments, as ever, much appreciated!



Little M - You're welcome! Glad you like, more will follow, promise.



Grimmy - Babbling, clumsy - it's all related. Uncertainty has that effect, I guess. Thanks for reading!!



Insanity - Mmm...I think Tara will! Thanks!!



Celia - Sorry you missed the cliffhanger! Glad you enjoy, though, but please don't hurt yourself falling out of things!!



Stef - Glad you are happy! Thanks for hanging in there!



KISMIC - Wow, thank you! Yeah, I figure if you're going to babble, go all out! I love Willow babble too. It's a challenge to write. Thanks for reading!!



Cath - What can I say darling..I wrote it for you. I'm glad you like. Very gratified indeed. More of Willow's 'elegance' to come!! Promise!



WiccansIllusion - Ha! Yes, Tara in cargos...quite indescribable...Glad you're enjoying the girl bits. They seem to be very popular around here...wonder why...? Hmmm...



Mollyig - Thank you muchly! I thought it was about time we learned what Tara studied, what she liked to do (aside from being a witch and being with Willow). We never really got to know her on the show (Grr...don't get me started), but her room gave some interesting clues. I just went from there.



Kalita - Thank you! And yes, the love train is on its way...



BFR - Glad you like...yes, her bits are very nice and we'll definitely read more about them!! Thank you!



Tulipp - Gosh, thank you...Willow babble and Tara's bits! I don't think Will is necessarily clumsy...she's got a lot on her mnd..like Tara's bits, for example.



BV - Couldn't leave out the smoochies! Ack! Thanks for reading!!



Autumn - You're welcome! Thanks for posting and glad they made you laugh. I trust I gave good giggle? Hee hee..



Nickole - Breathe! Breathe! And how is your story going, mysery girl? Glad you like...update soon!



Sister Bertrille - I'm gratified you pick up on the smallest things...yes, uncertainty is a factor here and it plays out in their actions. Their speech, their movement, not necessarily random, though. These are strange attractors here, maybe? And no, didn't know about the song, that's very interesting...Actually, Tara's painting is very personal to her..she'll explain a little later. Thanks for reading!!



The Rose24 - Thank you! I'm going to write nothing but babbling and bits from now on! Hee hee...glad you enjoy!



Thank you all again...the kittens are amazing and lovely and....and...well, something I haven't a good word for yet. Love to you all and update soon!



Piper

[hush30]

That was the funniest Willow babble I have ever read I loved the way Tara stopped another babble session at the end by joining their 'girl bits'. Can't wait to read their reactions to that kiss and where they go from there. Great fic!

"I think this line's mostly filler" - Willow in OMWF

[Twisted Minstrel]

Hush - you make me blush! Thank you! Here's an update!



Exploration





For Cath…all this and more. And yes, still running in circles, happy and quite, quite mad.





“Do you think you could invent something that would help us escape?” Klaus asked, looking around the room.



        -Lemony Snicket, The Bad Beginning







In the shadow of an unfinished work, The Kiss that Would Not End continued.



Neither participant had ever abandoned themselves so completely, to anything. Each so individual, so unique in their gifts, their thoughts and actions, so different in their approach to the same things, now insensate, bound to the other, melting, molding themselves anew, joined by the most tenuous yet unrelenting of attachments…



Artist and scientist, true alchemists, turned elemental, the most basic of materials, mere lip flesh, wet, heated tongues that spoke a thousand languages, eager to teach the other what it knew; communicating secrets, spying, seeking out, entrusting.



This was a way out and they both knew it; their eyes, brimming pools of blue and green, shimmering, dilated, read the message, decoded and understood. The mission was relentless, overpowering; what their bodies could not sustain, their hearts held up to the sun like a priceless find: This is ours…mine.





She was holding them up, somehow, for Willow had slipped in her arms; her hands held their purchase in the red head’s cheeks, their lips having long since paid the bill. Willow’s arms, like an expedition through the wilderness, found their way at last; bold now, her hands roaming through the fields of Tara, her fingers cautiously exploring every hill and valley, narrowing expanses, seeking something without a name, wild, enchanted…



And preferably naked.



“Wait. Wait.”



They were tangled now, on the floor, limbs askew, breath for breath, pulses pounding in their skulls like hammers; Tara raised herself away from the melee, her hair falling forward; sweat shining on her cheeks. Willow was flushed, too, speechless and staring. Fine wisps of blonde hair fluttered over her face like butterflies. She shivered at the loss of contact, the room suddenly cold without her Tara-skin, her new self, who was astride her now, legs splayed on either side of her hips, smiling down at her, laughing.



Willow’s heart contracted, painfully.



Why is she laughing at me?



“What?”



Tara was giggling now, a girlish giggle; she covered her face in her hands, her shirt raising slightly, exposing the babyish pink of her stomach; Willow had never found the human navel to be terribly interesting or attractive. She smiled. Everything had changed, so suddenly.



“What’s funny?”



Tara stifled herself, shaking her head and nodded at the girl beneath her.



“I hope that’s not your favorite shirt.”



Willow glanced down at herself; the once-white shirt was now smeared with the colorful paint from Tara’s clothes. This was not a concern; she smiled back at the blonde painter; a stamp of ownership had been given. She wasn’t about to complain.



“Oh! It’s kind of abstract, I think.”



“I can have it cleaned for you.”



Willow shook her head.



“No! I mean, no, I like it, and who knows, you might be famous one day and I’ll have this shirt I can show off, you know…something from your early period. Might be worth something. Never know.”



Tara grinned, shaking her head.



“Will you tell them how I did it?”



Willow struggled to right herself, wrapping her hands around Tara’s waist so that they now sat, face to face.



“Can I kiss you again?”



The question was asked so simply, with child-like earnest; green eyes wondering and hoping.



“Y-you don’t have to ask me, Willow.”



Knowing full well she had just been given carte blanche to do as she would, Willow held back. Her lips barely grazed Tara’s before pulling away, leaving a wanting wake of desire. She gazed soberly at the blonde in her lap, a look of serious intent creasing her brow.



“I want to know everything about you, where you’re from, what your favorite color is, I want to know the name of your first pet, who was your favorite teacher at school, what was your favorite subject…I want to know about your family, when did you start painting, everything. I’m serious.”



Tara could not stop smiling. Willow really doesn’t need much air – her kisses proved that. She didn’t really know how to answer; she wasn’t great with words, with explaining things. She believed Willow completely, that she wanted to know everything, but there was so much and words just wouldn’t do. Everything she wanted to tell Willow was right in her hands, looking her right in the face, unwavering with a patient certainty, waiting.



“I don’t know what to say. You don’t ask for much, do you?”



Inwardly, Willow began scolding herself: I’m pushing things, I’m moving too fast, I just had my hand in her pants this morning and now I’m mapping out the rest of our lives…she must think I’m some numpty-headed pemsnit-something…oh God! I’ve forgotten how to speak English!



Seeing the dejected fall of her companion’s face, Tara stood, and offered a hand to her.



“I’m not good with the explaining, Willow. Let me show you something.”



Tara led Willow over to her still-drying canvas. She pointed at the maternal figure.



“That’s my mother. I told you she taught me magic. My f-father didn’t approve of it, so we did everything in secret. She had beautiful hands. I loved it when she would brush my hair; she was so gentle and patient. It was important, see, because my hair would get so tangled and I’d cry sometimes.”



Willow nodded, sympathetic to a universal predicament, but her mother had been very different. She was glad Tara’s mother was so kind and loving.



“Is that you?”



Tara nodded.



“Do you get to see her very often?”



Tara’s smile faded. She continued to stare at the picture, the colors running together in her mind, and another version, already complete.



“Everyday, when I come here. In my mind”



“You don’t see her, at home or anything? Do you still talk?”



Another smile, different from all the others, crept into Tara’s eyes. There was happiness in it, but a great sadness, too. Willow sensed it, sensed the answer coming, desperately not wanting to intrude, but unable to look away.



“My mother died two years ago. She had been sick for a long time. But I talk to her all the time. She’s always with me. Sometimes I can feel her. Like now.”



“What do you mean?”



Tara raised a hand to Willow’s face, her fingers gently tracing over her forehead, her nose and cheeks, the outline of her lips.



“She likes you.”



Willow’s eyes cast downward, yet she didn’t want the touch to end.



“I’m sorry.”



“It’s alright. I want you to know everything too. And I want to know everything about you.”



Willow took a hesitant step toward the other girl, to this new found land where she wanted to live and explore - a world away from Sunnydale, from California, from hellish landscapes disguised as mystical convergences with demon populations and endless danger. She could be inventive, and Tara was an artist; they could build some fantastical contraption that would carry them away, just the two of them, alone. She could build this, somehow, she would.



“Can we start now?”



The sun had set; they were alone and the night stretched out before them like a road never traveled.



Tara nodded, her eyes closing, slowly, as once again their lips renewed their endless acquaintance.





TBC…..

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

[DarkWiccan]

Wow. Most folks here know that I am not a very vocal reader. I tend to lurk... unless I'm working on my own thread... and then I'm even worse. (Sorry kittens, I'm working on it, I swear!!)



But this fic has just forced me from my silence.



I only "come out" (if you'll forgive the pun) when something is so good that I just can't keep my mouth shut.



Twisted Minstrel, this fic rocks!!! I love your style of writing. I can see, feel, hear everything and everything is so perfect. I almost feel like I'm watching a really great movie instead of reading a really great story.



Awesome work! Keep it up... can't wait to see what's next!



Cheers

DW

"Promise me you'll never be linear." "On my trout."

[The Rose24]

*Sigh* This update is so beautiful. I like the way Tara uses her paintings to tell Willow some things about herself.



Now, I am ready to know about your version of Willow in your story.

Tara: My heart doesn't stutter.


Tara: Willow, I got so lost.

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

[hush30]

Does that mean we get an update every time I make you blush Loved the update. Willow is so cute how she finds it so difficult to hide her enthusiasm for all things Tara.

Quote:

---

“My mother died two years ago. She had been sick for a long time. But I talk to her all the time. She’s always with me. Sometimes I can feel her. Like now.”



“What do you mean?”



Tara raised a hand to Willow’s face, her fingers gently tracing over her forehead, her nose and cheeks, the outline of her lips.



“She likes you.”

---

That was very touching and you captured Tara's warmth beautifully in this scene. I also love the scientist/artist combination, in my experience it is a wonderful one. Can't wait for an update



I've also been meaning to say your signature is so true. That's why we enjoy losing ourselves in fics like this. Keep up the great work

"I think this line's mostly filler" - Willow in OMWF

[Kalita]

Wow.



That has to be the most descriptively lyrical, and hottest, kiss I have ever read about. Just Wow.



And Will's shirt is now a Tara Maclay original. Gotta love it.



More please!

"...you can make those two characters as dewey-eyed in love and it would never be too much."

-Chris Golden, on W/T

[TareBearRS]

See now we're talking.

No scary cliffhangers but nice updates full of funny Willow bable and smoochies!! YAY!



I really like how they got together and glad they didn't turn ayway from it.



Hope for more soon.

R.

[4evaWill]

Wow. Freaking heck. Wow. Freaking heck. I don't think is the first time you've rendered me speechless, is it?! I'm thinking... well, I can't explain what I'm thinking, but... wow. Damn. Okay, here goes... your update was fantastically brillianto. Cause I can't think of any other words. Other than, I am totally and utterly blambustered. I'm glad Tara's mom likes Willow... that's very good. Parental approval. Although, not that matters.

*offers chocolate covered toffee as apology for speechlessness.*

Cath

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

Willow: I am.

[Insanity]

I really like this one *gg*

The kiss ...WOW

Bur mostly I liked the scene when Tara said, that her mother likes Willow.. thats soo sweet. The loving memory of her mother is so important..



Great update.. Can´t wait for more..



Insanity

"Nobody messes with my girl!" Tara, Bargaining

[Sleek]

Twisted Minstrel,



if your fic is crack, consider me your junkie.



There are so many elements in your writing that could not go unnoticed...like blinding neon lights pulling my eyes towards the phrase: 'quality writing'



The narrative is descriptive. Heavy and light at the right places. At times lyrically poetic and other times bare but truthful.



=====

like this narrative below...poetic and funny.

In the shadow of an unfinished work, The Kiss that Would Not End continued.

=====



=====

And this one below...painfully truthful and emotionally absorbing

Another smile, different from all the others, crept into Tara’s eyes. There was happiness in it, but a great sadness, too. Willow sensed it, sensed the answer coming, desperately not wanting to intrude, but unable to look away.

=====



=====

and this one, by using apt imagery, bespeaks of hope and happy anticipation...

The sun had set; they were alone and the night stretched out before them like a road never traveled.

=====





The dialogues are true to character. The willow babble is an enjoyable read and Tara's inner insecurities were played out well.



====

I liked this line below because it is such an excellent Willow-way of saying she liked Tara in totality, and that she falls for the person not the gender.

“..I like all about you, all the Tara bits, which are very nice…not just the girl bits, although they’re very nice, too, but that’s not the why, because you know, I liked Oz, a lot and he was boy, but it wasn’t the boy part that I liked specifically, it was the Oz part, and now I like the Tara part. Did that make sense?”

====



and ofcourse, who didn't like the “Kiss my bits goodnight.” line?



Keep up the good work!



much appreciation



Sleek





x'cess: is this fic entitled "Above, Between and Below" because Willow always finds herself Below and Tara Above each other's bodies? And ofcourse, with such strategically placed positions--we know what happens in Between.

[PJ Freak]

WOW! I got to say.. tihs fic is absolutely amazing...



You write so greatly!!! I'm amazed, I love teh descriptions you use and how you say things, and how the characters stay so true to themselves...



Honestly, keep up the good work



And update soon, I can't wait



Isa

---

Pacey and Joey's Creek

---

[mollyig]

Despite the potent connection they share, they both exhibited insecurities typical of them. Willow's certainty that Tara was laughing at her. Tara's thoughts and statement about how she isn't good at explaining things.



She could build this, somehow, she would. Love how this chapter ended with Willow planning a future for them together, not questioning it, just believing.

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

[Cindipitude]

This story is just so well done.

I really enjoy a story with great imagery and your's is some of the best i've ever read.

So sweet how they come together...and I really liked the way you related to their individual relationships with words. Willow has words literally flowing from her mouth rapid fire at any given time. And often, they tumble over each other making it hard for people to understand what she is saying. Tara on the other hand stutters. It's hard for her to even get simple sentences out when she first meets someone, and even afterwards when the stutter is no longer an issue she chooses her words carefully. Tara knows words often fail her, so she has become adept in the other forms of communication.

She's very much a "let me show you" kind of person, and you've captured them both so well here.



Can't wait to see what the night brings for these two... great job!



Cindi

[Sister Bertrille]

Quote:

---

“Do you think you could invent something that would help us escape?” Klaus asked, looking around the room.

---

Klaus, honey, 411 from Glinda: “Just click those heels together three times…”



Marvelous your use of the word “alchemy” in this update, as your writing here manages to transform a classroom into a crucible, and bodies (and computer screens!) into steam. In other words, you have done such a terrific job of amalgamating tenderness and carnality here that is impossible to separate the two. So how are you on that whole straw into gold thing?



Here’s to “new found lands” (don’t know about that “one man manned” stuff, though!)



SB

[Fuzz WT]

WOW! that's really something.



I just love it. Tara's mother bit was really beautiful

Quote:

---

It was important, see, because my hair would get so tangled and I’d cry sometimes

---

I love it! I think it's sentimental.



and for

Quote:

---

…she must think I’m some numpty-headed pemsnit-something…oh God! I’ve forgotten how to speak English!

---

That's just so Willow.



And I love The Rosenberg Uncertainty Principle so much. I swear,I couldn't stop smiling when I read it and my heart was pounding too. I was so excited for Willow's babbling.LOVE IT!

*******




Hey! You're gonna back off! She said no and that's it. ~ TARA

[kiaora1]

Lovin' this



keep going !

[Twisted Minstrel]

Hello to all....sorry I haven't got an update for you yet. I'm a bad kitten...I've also got something of a complex now as I can't quite take in the response to this story. I'd love to address each of you who left replies individually, but I think that would take up more room than it should...I will say to all though, thank you a million times for even bothering to write, it's unreal. I'm gratified that everyone has been able to take away something different, and find different levels of meaning within the story itself.



Sister Bertrille pointed out the use of the word "alchemy" in this story, which is significant to me as I do see the W/T relationship as a kind of alchemy and both are in a sense, alchemists of a very modern sort (and I'll go more into this later on). Personally, I've not found any Philosopher's Stone that will help me transmute one substance to another (sorry, SB), but I've received tremendous influence from the kittens themselves, their work and their unbelievable imaginative prowess. May it endure.



In particular, I'll give a shout and several kisses (all chocolate covered) to Cath, who has (unbeknownst to her, likely) been a gigigglynomous (she knows what that means) inspiration for the language of this tale. Cheers!



Also, this story simply wouldn't have happened at all if not for a challenge from WiccansIllusion...I wonder how many of us she's talked into writing smut for her?? Well, I've got my own way of doing things.



Finally, I'm at a crossroads with the next bit, so I'm not sure when I'll post...I want to keep things moving along and not disappoint, as there are more levels to this story that I want to share; might go off on a tangent or two, not sure. Hope you don't mind. Right, I've babbled enough. Back to your reguarly scheduled whatever....love to all.



Piper

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

Edited by: Twisted Minstrel at: 12/2/02 12:21:35 am

[the vamp nurd]

"Falling now"



TVN - DMW's puppy

[allyson12]

Loved the update!



"That would require some of our girl bits, I think.” -Tara



Willow tripping and hitting the floor face first while staring at Tara was a trip!



I must say, as clumsy as I was when younger, I've never tripped over my own feet nor fallen on my face. I have however, bumped into various objects when my eyes were riveted on the subject of my fascination instead of in front of me.



-Allyson

"After one take, Joss did say, 'Can we have one that's less like you're going to sleep together in about five minutes?'" - Alyson Hannigan

[Twisted Minstrel]

*Runs to catch Vamp Nurd* Gotcha!



Allyson - thank you...more clumsiness ensues!



Here's a bit of light verse disguised as an update...



Chaos Theory





For Cath…I assure you: in real life, there is no such thing as economics.





I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees.



        - Pablo Neruda, from Everyday You Play







Their limbs betrayed them; every sense was translated, redefined and examined to the nth degree. Their lips had turned traitorous, uncooperative and lazy. Shaking to the last hair on their heads, they fell again and again, writhing like swimmers through the surf, breathing in starts and stops, drawing wet, salty life from the others’ tongue, the sweetest sweet, backs arching, fingers grasping, unconditioned and failing.



An ocean canvas, spattered with paint and sweat, their first bed; drowning, they could not remove their clothing, the air, strength and will had gone. Their hair, matted acrylics, blue and purple, stains from one end to the other. This was the meaning of dizzy, rapturous joy, of flight.



Prone on her back, Willow could not feel her toes. It had been hours since she realized all the feeling had left her legs, that she could not make a fist or even turn her head from side to side. Her bones had melted. She was a jellyfish now. Flattened, sticky and slowly drying beneath an overpowering sun.



Tara was not heavy, but she wasn’t a feather either. The fetching, unmoving source of her agony was asleep, sprawled over her, on all sides, top to bottom, a multi-limbed mass of cosmic matter made delicious flesh. She was enfolded, bound up in a Tara-shaped cocoon; her circulation long since cut off from the outside world.



No. Not quite.

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

Edited by: Twisted Minstrel at: 12/3/02 4:18:42 am

[Twisted Minstrel]

The itch.



It started at the tip of her big toe on her right foot.



She had not prayed in years.



The itch, the waking rush of blood to her extremities, began to spread. Her toes were stinging now, and the pads of her feet. She could feel the twitching, agonizing, maddening tingle of alertness flexing, demanding action; she wanted to stomp, flail and run like a wild jackass through the desert.



She prayed.



DearGodthingwhatevergoddessmostholyinheaven

orsomeplacepleaseohpleasemakeitstopmakeitstop

ohGodIbegyoumakeitstopI’mgoingcrazypleasemake

itstopIcan’tmovewhycan’tImovethisissonothappening

whynowwhynowsweetjesusmaryjosephmotherofheaven –



“Willow?”



The sun had come out; light spilled through the windows; dust motes frolicked in the morning vapor.



Tara’s lids were heavy, obscuring the blue sky underneath, still drowsy with sleep.



“Are you okay?”



At the sound of the voice above her, a low, curious bell sounding the new day, Willow’s breathing ceasing. The tremors in her legs halted abruptly, chastised into obedience. The itch, a night creature, slunk back into the darkness.



How many hours since the last kiss? Why did they stop?



Willow’s mouth fastened onto Tara’s lower lip, dragging her downward, as her fingers, still numb, expectant, kneaded the obstructive material of the painter’s clothing. Blighted desire fueled from their lips, tried again; their hips swayed into the other slowly, reaching, friction building from the center and flaring outward, playful arson threatening to explode.



Tara’s arms wound over Willow’s head, snake-like; the red head could not see or hear, only Tara’s breath kept her alive, the salted honey of her tongue providing the only sustenance. Tara’s legs were hungry pythons, winding about her ribs, her legs, crushing and devouring. She was surrounded, smothered with Tara; her senses were on overload and heading for a burn-out.

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

[Twisted Minstrel]

A hand found its way between them, squirming digits seeking entrance to the most exclusive of night spots, burning to dance – only to be rebuffed at the door.



“I can’t….your zipper…” Her words stabbed short by Tara’s insistent tongue, Willow’s hand once again caught between heated extremes, left outside to beg.



A moan caught her off-guard as Tara’s neck swooped to one side, her mouth, hot with hunger, devouring an ear, sucking greedily at the juicy lobe, almost sending Willow into a fit of giggles, until –



“Ohmygod.”



The world froze in a moment of pure, unfiltered shock; Tara, still writhing over her, dripping wet kisses along her neck and jaw, was oblivious to the sudden change. Willow, however, was not.



She recognized the tall, frizzy-haired girl from the night before – Tara’s neighbor. Now dressed in a UC Sunnydale sweatshirt and a pair of skin-tight biker shorts, the newcomer hovered over them, her jaw hanging somewhere between her sternum and her knobby knees.



What the newcomer saw was more than two girls sharing a heated moment on the floor of the art department. Both would-be-lovers were covered from head to toe in drying paint, their clothes rumpled, hair unwittingly dyed several new shades and otherwise resembling a Dadaist-style fresco, only with more layers of meaning.



Sensing something amiss with Willow’s sudden withdrawal from their antic endeavors, Tara paused, raising herself up with both hands. Her peripheral vision did the rest, and within a heartbeat, she was staring, wide-eyed at their guest.



“Hey Tara.”



“Hey W-wendy.”



“Watcha doing?”



“Um.”



“I mean, is this a new piece you’re….working on?”



Tara looked down at Willow, whose expression was a curious blend of cuddly and mortified. She sat up, straddling Willow, who remembered she was still a jellyfish and did not move. Deciding insouciance to be the best avenue of escape, Tara crossed her arms over her chest and affected an air of indifference.



“Yes.”



Wendy’s nose wrinkled with distrust.



“Oh. Like performance art or something? Is, uh, that what you’re doing now? You must have been rehearsing, right...all night?”



Still maintaining her composure, despite her current position with a withering Willow beneath her, Tara nodded.



“That’s right.”



Wendy continued to glare at them, clearly not buying it.



“So…what do you call it?” She asked, a little too politely.



Tara’s jaw clenched, grinding her molars noisily over one another. What remained of Willow flinched, wondering if they should just make a wild run for it. Tara’s lack of motion dashed her fleeting hopes.



“Girl Bits.”



Rising off of Willow, Tara smiled at her frowning neighbor and lightly kicked Willow in the side, urging her to follow.



Painfully, Willow rose, glancing briefly at her paint-smudged watch…



…and panicked.



“It’s half past seven. I’m late! I’m late for psych! Tara, I’m late! I’ve got to go! I’m sorry! Nice meeting you! Again! Nice meeting you again! Girl bits. We’ll work on it after…the class, after class, okay? Good?”



She fled, without looking back.



Only when she reached the outer doors of the studio, did awareness finally come to her. She froze, watching the growing gaggle of students, milling around her, off to their classes. Some of them treated her to a sideways glance – her reflection in the door glass revealing a paint-streaked, unruly figure in clothes now two-days without wash.



She had been changed. No, more than that. She was transformed. This was not Willow Rosenberg, erstwhile hacker, budding mathematician and best friend to the local Vampire Slayer – but something else entirely. Years of social abandonment, anxiety and sexual confusion began to collapse down around her, like a house of cards, tumbling away, off the table, scattering to the winds. Oz, Xander, Buffy, Giles, her parents, Cordelia, Angel – anyone who had ever meant anything to her, good or bad, all thosw who had imprinted themselves on her psyche, molded her, taunted her, ignored her, even - suddenly fell away. It was entropy, the breakdown of design by disorder. Chaos. She had never seen the pattern until now. Everything was so simple, so obvious.



The itch had been scratched.



She wanted to laugh, or burst into tears. A painted clown, alone amidst the oblivious adolescent rabble; smiling, overflowing with joy.



No, not alone. Not ever again.



Turning back to the studio, Willow found her stride and broke into a dead run.



“TARA!”





TBC….

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

[mollyig]

I've decided I don't like Wendy!



Willow going back to the art studio after her realisation was great. The fact that she was aware she was late for class but still went back to Tara is so telling!

---

I happen to think mine is the level head,
and yours is the one things would roll off of.