Clare,
This is totally awesome. I read that this was looking to be ten-ish chapters, and I hope that you’ll write something else after this. Due to the awesomeness. I’d been meaning to put this together, a proper feedback, and then you left me that very nice feedback and actually answered my questions (thank you, by the way), which made me wanna do this more. I’ve included both things that do and don’t work for me, operating under the assumption that you know there’s no malice behind it. Some of this is nitpicky stuff, I know, but you're already starting with a very good piece.

This is what happens, by the way, when I get used to commenting in Word and then have to go back to writing on the board. Well, this is one extreme. The other basically goes "tree pretty."

Also, it’s 3:00 am here, so if I don’t make any sense, just call me on it, and I’ll clear it up for you.


First, total bonus points for the use of the word . . . shit, you used an awesome word, and now I can’t find it, or even remember what chapter it was in. But you still get the points, even if I can’t remember the word.



What I like about this is what isn’t considered: getting something new. It provides a feeling that Tara hasn’t moved on, that she’s still stuck in the same place as she was since she and Willow broke up.



I really liked this, probably because I fall into the category of assuming Tara would love poetry. As you may have noticed from Queen of Hearts *cough* (it was this minor little thing, I’m sure you don’t remember it). I also really liked what you said about Tara looking to fiction as an escapist mechanism. Again, it establishes that she’s really not interested in moving on with her life without saying it.



This doesn’t quite work for me, because I’m not sure what about each phrase Tara finds absurd. Is it absurd that Willow is no longer Tara’s girlfriend, lover, and significant other? That Willow is so much more than that? Something else? When you say “Just . . . Willow” in the next line, it makes me think the middle one, so maybe my confusion is me being dense.



I think these should be one paragraph, not two. And an ellipsis that ends a sentence still needs a period, so it’s four dots. Also, use a space between each period. So, it should look like this: “Dawn . . . .”



This would be stronger if you said “I frightened her.” Active voice > passive voice. Also, I’m not sure why Tara’s angry that Willow’s frightened. Guilty, yes, angry, not getting.



I like this whole scene, but this line in particular stands out. You’ve set up very well that Tara’s connection to her current life is tenuous at best, and all it took was Willow showing up to just shatter it. Tara feels so broken here. You write later about her father’s visit, how that single blow was enough to shatter the person she had been. This feels so much like the same thing.



Though it’s the impetus for the story, I have to say that I really disagree with Julie here: isn’t showing up going to just rip open the wound Willow made? She goes on to point out that the visit is for Tara’s sake, and not Willow’s, which, while admirable, makes me even more uncomfortable with the view. I think a letter or a phone call would have been kinder, something where Willow isn’t there, so Tara doesn’t have to try to deal with the emotion of the thing in front of Willow. This just seems mean.

Chapter 2

If Tara hates poetry, why is she studying it? By this point she should be at least a senior (you say that Willow left for the city a year ago). By that point, she should have some choices in her coursework. But you can throw in like one phrase about how she needs it as a prerequisite and it's all cleared up.

I remember thinking that the end of Tara’s musings here drift from just angsty to overwrought, so I was pleased to see Tara came to the same conclusion.


I really like this, that she has to self-edit to avoid think about herself as still loving Willow (at least, that’s how I took it.)


While I love that you’re writing from a third-person limited POV, you have to keep in mind that most people don’t, so readers aren't used to reading it. Particularly since we’re early in the story, and not used to the idea of jumping into Buffy’s head, this line can be a little confusing. If you change “other woman’s” to “Tara’s,” it’ll clear it up. Don’t be afraid to use names a lot.


This is another place where you really need names to clear things up. Is Buffy concerned about what Tara said to Willow or vice versa? It feels like you mean what Tara said, but it isn’t clear. Even though I write from a third-person limited, it was actually the second or third read-through where I was together enough to say "oh, wait, that's Buffy thinking, not Tara. Duh." Again, names help. (I've been cheating, and only writing scenes with two characters. This changes soon, and I'm nervous.)


So very Buffy.


Since we are in Buffy’s head here, if she is trying to say say something about Tara not staying around when Willow was going through withdrawal and whatnot, it feels like we should see it. Since we don’t, it makes me feel like Tara’s conclusion is reaching. Even without Tara's interpretation, Buffy's sarcastic comment at the end feels like it should come with some sort of internal comment.


This makes me wonder about Buffy’s offer to let Tara move back in to the Summer’s household. If she’s mad at Tara, why did she extend the offer? Even if it’s something like “for Dawn’s sake,” which would make sense, a sentence to clear it up would make it more consistent.


I really like this line. I’m a sucker for writing techniques like parallel structure, so referencing the start of the scene at the end here is just awesome. I think it would be even stronger as either it’s own paragraph, or even as something Buffy says out loud to the empty room. But that’s just a personal style thing.


I think Tara’s instinct to deny Buffy’s assertion is perfectly valid. Tara drew a line in the sand and established very firmly that magic had become a deal-breaker. Willow broke the deal, and not with a “well, you were about to die so I thought I’d light the vampire on fire” sort of way. It feels like if you tell someone “if you throw a rock at that dog, he’ll bite you,” and then proceed to blame the dog when the asshole throws a rock at it. I guess this feels like Tara thinks she’s in the wrong here, when I don’t think she should.

Chapter 3

I’m curious about the choice to gloss over what Tara’s thinking through here. You give us such a rich description of the present, but here Tara’s entrenched in the past. Even though the ride itself you describe as “a blur,” it feels like what Tara’s thinking about is missing. Are they good memories? Sad memories? Angry memories? You talk about movies and Dawn in the previous section, but because of the break it feels separate.


I liked this because of the way rain and weather are used on the show; so much of the time So Cal doesn’t get rain, so nearly every time it rains in Sunnydale it’s for a storytelling reason. (e.g. “Hell’s Bells.”) Also: oddly enough, between the rain and the train, this really feels like England to me. I’ve never been, though I have a lot of family there, but it does. Maybe it’s priming because your doohicky says you’re in England.


This felt a little off to me. Not because I think Xander’s inobservent, but because Xander has known Willow for essentially her entire life. Most of that was pre-Tara. Like, if he means that Willow wasn’t Willow before Tara, he needs to say that, and if he means since Tara showed up, he needs to say that. Not that I have any incredibly clever ways of keeping it as succinct as this is and still accomplish that.


Yay photography! Man, I wonder how long it’ll be before that analogy won’t work, because not enough people understand what developing is. I mean, I love digital photography, but that'll be weird.

Chapter 4

This is such a familiar feeling. I really liked this.


I liked this, the feeling that when it came to putting words to it, the reason was so trivial and insignificant, but because the real reason is huge. It reminded me of Angel showing up to apologize to Buffy, only to make things worse.


This was good not only because it captures that awkward feeling caused by a relationship changing to be less close, but also because it foreshadows that Tara doesn’t like it.


You break POV here, which isn’t a crime, but you don’t do it anywhere else, so I’m assuming that it wasn’t intentional.


I love it when characters lie to themselves. Particularly Tara, because she’s more interesting when she isn’t a saint.


I think lasagna is a mass noun, not a count noun. At least, it is in American English.


I also love it when characters miscommunicate. This reminds me of the bit in “Normal Again.” But there’s just so much in this little package: Willow’s realization that it wasn’t her apology that brought Tara out, the potential to feel like she’s misled Tara, thoughts of forgiveness going straight out the window, realization that Tara thinks she’s the sort of person that would show up in person just to say ‘I have a new girlfriend.” All this stuff just comes crashing down when she realizes what Tara heard and how it differs from what she meant to say.

Kate

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More of a dog person, myself.
I'm from Iowa, we drive four hours for a high school football game.
Queen of Hearts • The Sincerest Form of Flattery • Drabbles

What a great story. I love it. I can't wait for more. You have an incredible knack for details. I feel like I'm there. But our poor girls. I hope you make it all better. Looking forward to more.

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Anya: I don't like the sound of this. They don't sound very ex-demon compatible.
Tara: Are you sure they're English? I thought English people were, um, gentler than uh... normal people.

An Everyday Life

Interesting story so far. Tara and Willow just need to sit down, talk and get everything out in the open. Looking forward to reading more.

Wow... I feel a serious misunderstanding coming on . I hope our girls stop dancing around one another and sit down and talk..really talk. The sooner the better. I am really enjoying this story..eagerly awaiting more.

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The kitten formerly known as SMGOVAN ~Official Head of Security for the Finey_McFine fan club. Ass whippings will be handed out liberally!

What with the AWK!!!!!
teee heeeee...

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Otherwise known as chipperdyke
Top Recommended Fics

Clare,

Another chapter, YES!!!

Comment on a bit from the previous chapter: great plot device with Tara getting soaked so that Willow hurries her inside and the story moves on. It was believable, vividly described, and effective.

Now on to your most recent post!


Spot on accurate! Perfect expression of the emotional cycles and frustrations of waiting.


Another example of the rich, believable memories you create. You give their relationship a real texture, a truth full of emotions, memories, and details. Beautifully done!


Okay, I’m taking the wild risk and offering critique even though I don’t know you well. These changes of tense seem awkward. Consider an alternative, something like, ‘Oh. Sorry.’ Willow blushed, backed out of the room and pointed to the radiator under the window OR ‘Oh. Sorry.’ Willow blushed and backed out of the room then pointed to the radiator under the window. If you wanted to make it even more of a demonstration of Willow’s awkwardness you could try, ‘Oh. Sorry.’ Willow blushed and backed out of the room. She looked around wildly for an instant and blushed again as she pointed to the radiator under the window. Your prose is so powerful: rich, detailed, so an awkward bit sticks out for me. Also, quotation marks are needed for this line and throughout the story. Clare, also feel free to offer me any suggestions or tips, it’s helpful.


Lots going on here! First, there is a nice bit of real life comedy with the sodden salad. Then we see a glimpse of Tara being unhealthy in her dietary choices. Then Willow thinks of saying something and decides not to say it AND Tara wonders about it. Again, a few brief lines full of character and meaning.

Thanks, did I say I’m LOVING THIS STORY!!!! If not, then I should! Sorry for post delays, visiting colleges and it’s crazy: Haverford, Vassar, and Amherst coming up this week!

Ariel
How I Met Your Mother

Finey MacFine
It’s so weird to think of you in a baseball dugout, somewhere in Texas, reading my story. The internet is truly a wonderful thing.


I got them together pretty quickly because I’m impatient and I like to read stories where they are interacting, but the goal of real communication is a little way off yet.
I like Tara showing human failings such as jealousy. In this scenario she doesn’t think she has the right to be jealous, but she is, nonetheless. Thanks again for your thoughtful comments, Shel.


BeMyDeputy
Wow. Fantastic feed back. Thank you. This story is a new experience for me. Before, I’d never written anything longer than 2000 – 3000 words and was beginning to believe that I never would. I’ve already learnt a huge amount and the feed back continues that process. It’s no wonder I love the kitten board.
So, to your feed back.
Chapter 1
Of course, now I’m curious as to the ‘awesome’ word. If you remember you’ll let me know, won’t you?


The idea that Willow can be reduced to a label, a category, is absurd to her. Willow is so much more than that to her.

Technical points – on the KB I space things differently to the way I would in Word, often breaking the paragraphing rules because the single-spacing and lack of indents can seem to crowd the text. But I’ve edited the paragraph you mentioned as you’re right, it was distracting. As for the ellipsis, I didn’t know that, thank you.


‘I frightened her.’ is a good suggestion, but would Tara, at this point be willing to admit that to herself? Not sure, but it would add clarity, certainly. As to why she is angry, have you noticed how people get angry when they feel guilty? (See Buffy later on.)


But Tara’s wound is not healed and never will be without confronting Willow. Of course Willow should have phoned or written first. She’s impulsive and hasn’t thought it through. Julie would be horrified to know the mess that Willow made of it. Willow took her advice, but didn’t listen to it properly.

Chapter 2

Tara appreciates poetry, she just doesn’t love it. Her reaction to Byron has more to do with her state of mind that night. The Romantic Poets are salt on a wound.


Exactly.

As for the Buffy scene with Tara, well a couple of years ago I didn’t know POV from a hole in the road. Now it’s something of an obsession. Obviously I needed a bit more clarity in that scene.


But I am. It feels awkward. I notice other writers using ‘the redhead’, ‘the hacker’ etc, but that can feel awkward too. It’s a huge challenge to find the balance between clarity and dull repetition. Perhaps more internal comment, as you suggest, would work.


This line, together with the ‘introspection’ comment, is meant to show that Buffy is angry at herself, not Tara. She’s angry because she feels guilty for letting Willow down. She wants Tara and Willow back together so that Willow will be happy and she can stop feeling guilty. Tara is correct in her interpretation, but Buffy’s comment is neither fair nor justified and she regrets it and tries to back track. I will think about how I could have made all that clearer in the scene.


No, she shouldn’t. But she does.

Chapter 3

I didn’t want to weigh the story down with too much introspection. My beta also thought it needed more, so in hindsight, I was too cautious.

As for the rain, I can’t imagine living somewhere that is almost always bright and sunny. It must be strange. The weather has a big influence on my moods, (and we have a lot of weather here), so it’s natural for me to use it in a story.


I felt that Buffy and the kitten board readers, because of their knowledge of Willow, would know that Xander means that since her break up with Tara, Willow is no longer the person he recognises. It’s been a year and she hasn’t returned to her old self, (either pre or post-Tara) and Xander fears she never will. That Buffy gets exactly what he means, says a lot about her and the way they both feel about Willow.
Chapter 4
POV break. Unintentional. Damn.

Tara is definitely not a saint in this story. I hope her actions, even if they are misguided, are understandable and human.

I notice that I’ve responded mainly to your constructive criticism. Rest assured that every complimentary word has been memorized and will be recalled whenever my motivation or confidence falters. (Often, in other words.) Thanks again Kate.


beautiful_love
Thanks very much. I really appreciate hearing from you. I will make it better, I promise.

love_2003
Thank you. They do need to talk, certainly. It’s a habit they lost even before they broke up and it’s hard to start.

SMGOVAN
A serious misunderstanding is definitely underway. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story. Thanks for commenting.


KnightlyLove
Well that’s good . . . I think. I hope it’s good anyway.

Ariel
Thank you for the brilliant feedback. It’s great to hear which aspects of the story worked well for you, and I’m really happy that you like it.




It’s a big compliment when someone takes the time to write critique on my story. I want to improve and it’s hugely helpful, so thank you.

Grammar and punctuation are areas I want to work on. Also, feel free to point out any ambiguity, for example, who’s saying what to who, (whom?).


I find that tenses can be tricky, so it’s useful to know if a phrase sounds awkward. Your suggestions aren’t quite what I wanted to convey. I wanted to show Willow’s movement, that she was too uncomfortable to stand still, not even for long enough to point to something, so I used the continuous tense and omitted the verb ‘to be’. I’m going to think about it, as it’s a phrasing I use often, and if it sounds awkward to you then no doubt other readers feel the same.


I was taught to use single inverted commas for direct speech. I checked in a published book and it’s single. Then it occurred to me that it could be a US/British thing, so I looked at a US published book and you use double inverted commas. (Like correct punctuation isn’t hard enough already?) I’m going to stick to British English spelling/punctuation for the same reason as Laragh – because otherwise I’ll get horribly confused and anything I submit over here will be seen as unprofessional. I hope it doesn’t irritate you too much, and thanks for teaching me something I didn’t know!

JustSkipIt
I'm so glad you don't think I'm wallowing. I don't want to write angst for the sake of angst. Of course you called the 'woman at work' thing correctly. Willow is not thinking clearly, so it didn't even occur to her.


This made me laugh. I really don't want to drag things out, but as you say, it's been a year, so it'll take more than a quick chat to sort things out.

Thanks so much for the feedback.

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Donegal Street * Home For Christmas * A Traditional New Year’s Eve

I'm behind on feedback and so sorry. I feel like you're doing a very good job of expressing their complete devastation without really.... wallowing for lack of a better word. I'm so glad that I called the whole "there's this woman at work..." thing and the misunderstanding. Now maybe they can eat and warm up and start to talk. Hell, they've gone from nothing to "sorry" to train/bus ride and dinner after a year. They're moving at a breakneck speed. Yahoo!

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

TITLE: Donegal Street

AUTHOR: Wayland

RATING: PG-13

DISCLAIMER: Willow, Tara and any other characters from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise belong to Joss Whedon, FOX and ME.

SPOILERS: Up to and including Season Six.

SUMMARY: Tara left Willow after Tabula Rasa. It is now about a year later.

FEEDBACK: I would be grateful for your comments.

NOTES: Thanks to my beta, Vivienne, for the encouragement I needed to get this far. Thanks to BeMyDeputy for invaluable input.





‘You thought . . . you thought I’d come to tell you I had a new girlfriend?’

She expected Tara to laugh. To deny that ridiculous, insane idea.

But Tara said nothing.

Tara.

The woman facing her was a stranger.

Willow stared. If she looked hard enough, surely there would be some sign, something in Tara’s face that would explain where the woman she knew had gone.

But there was nothing, just the same beautiful features she had memorized, overwritten with shock. Willow opened her mouth, then closed it. Her arms and legs felt numb. She swallowed, took a shallow breath, then tried again.

‘The mornings are the worst,’ Willow spoke slowly and clearly, as if chipping each word out of stone. ‘Because I forget. Every morning, I forget. For a moment it’s perfect. And then I wake up. Properly wake up. And the fear fills me again and I think I’m going to vomit. And I pray that it’s not too early because I know I can’t stay in bed for another second.’ Willow took in a long, slow breath.

‘I have a shower. I brush my teeth. I get dressed. I eat. I finish one thing, then I think about the next. I go to work and I think about the next ten minutes . . . the next five. If I start thinking about anything else, I stop myself, because the idea that this is forever is just . . . .’ Her voice faltered on the last word. Willow closed her eyes briefly and curled her fingers into fists, the nails digging into her palms. She kept her head down and studied the worn patch of linoleum at her feet. The toes of her boots were stained dark from the rain.

‘The nights are better. I know that I can go to bed. In the dark it’s easier. I lie very, very still and I tell myself that all I have to do is reach out. Because you’re next to me. Sleeping. That’s what I tell myself.’

Tara said nothing. Willow felt the silence pressing in on her. The rattle of rain on the window and the ticking clock in the hallway seemed to grow louder.

She forced her head up. The expression on Tara’s face was one she found unbearable.

Disbelief.

‘I can’t . . . I have to go,’ Willow said, under her breath. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tara opening her mouth and reaching out a hand towards her, and then Willow was outside, running down the steps two at a time, running down the street and away.



Tara did not love her anymore.

Tara could not and should not forgive her.

Every day, Willow exhausted herself with the effort of avoiding those truths. Like open wounds, they were unbearable to touch or even to look at. Yet they could not be denied. The pain was unrelenting. And deserved.

But this was different. Because Tara knew her, had known her from the moment of their first meeting. It was the one thing that Willow had pulled from the wreckage, that Tara knew all of her, understood her, and yet had loved her, once.

Could Tara possibly believe that she was that shallow? That a scant few months after their parting she would pick herself up, dust herself down and find a new girlfriend?

Did Tara honestly believe she thought so little of their relationship?

Willow walked blindly, splashing through puddles, the rain unnoticed on her face. The same thoughts went round and round, endlessly. Then something new, something that punched the air out of her lungs. Had Tara seen their relationship that way: young love, a college romance, a phase? Were Willow’s memories of what they were to each other a lie? A delusion, a fairy tale, existing only in her imagination?

Willow had not yet dared to ask Tara why she had come to the city. Maybe it wasn’t to see her at all. She might have business here and an ex-girlfriend’s apartment had been a convenient pit-stop out of the rain. A cup of coffee and a chance to catch up with an old lover. Was that why she was here, because she had moved on? Found someone who deserved her. Someone stable. Someone who would never get drunk on power and betray her so hideously.

Willow stopped dead in the street. As she felt something nudge her shoulder she turned and saw a man, bundled up against the rain, swerving out of her path, muttering as he did so. Willow stared after him, blankly. She clenched her teeth as she felt her stomach heave.

Of course Tara didn’t know her any more. The woman Tara thought she knew, the woman she had loved absolutely, had betrayed her. Twice. And shown no remorse or even comprehension. That woman had whined in self-pity, before going out to play with her new friends. Before injuring a child. Tara didn’t know that woman. Willow herself did not know that woman.

Willow pressed her hand against her churning stomach. How had she dared to question the sincerity of Tara’s feelings? Her girlfriend had loved her, with everything she had. And in return Willow had abused her and driven her out of her home, away from her family.

Willow sucked in air, filling her lungs, as her thinking became clearer by the second. She was lucky that Tara would still speak to her. Incredibly lucky that Tara had come to visit her. For a moment Willow felt calmer, then, in a flash of hideous clarity, her outburst in the apartment came back to her. With mounting horror, she remembered everything she had said. Every self-pitying word. She was like some man who hit his wife and then blamed her when he felt guilty afterwards. ‘Look what you made me do . . . .’

How could Tara bear to be in the same room as her?

She could not. She would not. She would leave.

She was probably already gone.

Willow ran.



Willow burst into the kitchen, sweating and dripping rain. She blinked rapidly as she tried to take in the sight before her.

Tara was sitting at the table, her arms resting in front of her, her hands loosely clasped. She looked up. Her expression was slightly distracted, as if interrupted during an absorbing train of thought. She gave no sign of noticing anything unusual in Willow’s appearance.

‘The lasagne is almost done. I turned the oven down. Should I put the bread in?’ Tara said calmly.

Willow’s chest heaved as she desperately gulped in air. She rubbed her face dry with the back of her sleeve. Even if she’d had the breath to speak, her brain refused to form a coherent thought, so she only nodded, then slumped against the doorway. Tara gave a nod in response and got up and pulled open the oven door. Willow watched her bend gracefully and rearrange the food with sure, confident movements. It was surreal. Tara was acting as if she had merely stepped out of the room for a moment, not stormed out of the house after an unforgiveable tirade. As if the whole incident was inexplicably forgotten. That thought provoked a wave of nausea in Willow. No, no, of course not. That was crazy thinking. Willow swallowed hard, pushing down the idea. Her little tantrum was beneath Tara’s notice, that was all. Tara was no doubt tired and hungry. She wanted a hot dinner and a peaceful evening, not an hysterical ex-girlfriend bombarding her with unwanted apologies. A violent shiver caught Willow by surprise and Tara paused as she straightened up from the oven.

‘You should change. Get into something warm.’

The firm tone left no room for argument. Being told what to do was actually a relief. It steadied her like an anchor. Willow nodded dumbly and headed for her room.



It was the strangest of meals. They discussed the usefulness of ready made lasagnas and agreed that, while a microwave cooked them well enough, the oven gave a desirable crispy quality to the crust. They debated whether the plastic trays were recyclable and concluded that they were not. They compared their respective journeys. Travelling by train was quicker but generally more expensive than the bus.

It ought to have been excruciating.

Willow looked down and noticed with dulled surprise that her plate was clear. She couldn’t remember eating. Food and tension were generally not a good combination for her. She either lost her appetite completely or ate and then developed a stomach cramp. She ran a quick mental diagnostic. No pain. In fact, there was a complete absence of tightness in her body. Her muscles were relaxed and heavy, like tents with the guy ropes cut. It took an effort to lever herself out of her chair.

‘Coffee?’ The exhaustion was obvious in Willow’s voice.

‘Sure, that would be good,’ Tara replied. Willow slowly walked to the sink, turning as Tara spoke again.

‘Decaf for you, I think.’ Tara had one eyebrow raised in mock admonition. Willow felt a surge of warmth in her chest. She acquiesced sheepishly with a nod, then pulled a jar of instant decaf from the shelf, waving it childishly towards Tara, who nodded in approval. Willow again felt warmth flush her skin.



They brought their coffees into the living room and sat at opposite ends of the battered couch, facing forwards like churchgoers in a pew. Willow was talking, something about television, wondering aloud if there might be anything worth watching.

Tara sipped her drink and moved subtly until she had a view of Willow’s profile. Her features seemed sharper than Tara remembered. The pale skin, drawn tight over her cheekbones, looked almost translucent in this light. Willow’s hair had dried after the rain, and was back to its usual shade of red. It had curled and was slightly frizzy at the ends, which needed trimming. Willow was still talking, telling an aimless, meandering story, but Tara noticed the way her eyelids were starting to droop.

Finally, when she saw Willow’s coffee mug tip sideways in her hand, Tara stood up. She leaned over and Willow’s eyes jerked open in surprise. Tara gently removed the mug from her hand and placed it on the side table, murmuring that it had been a long day. Willow pouted sleepily. It was an expression that was achingly familiar to Tara. Like a small child, Willow would often force herself to stay awake even when she was dropping with fatigue. It was as if she could not bear to surrender the day when there was still the possibility of more excitements, more experiences, more fun. Tara took a couple of steps back while Willow used both hands to push herself off the couch. As she got to her feet, Willow frowned.

‘Oh, I forgot, there’s no reading lamp in your room. I’ll just go and fetch mine.’

‘There’s no need . . . .’ Tara was relieved at the casual confirmation that she was expected to stay. She’d been worrying for nothing. At the same time, the phrase ‘your room’ seemed wrong, somehow.

‘Won’t take a second,’ Willow’s energetic tone was undermined by the way she almost stumbled, rounding the coffee table.

‘Honestly. There’s no need. No book, remember?’ Tara had been hoping for a smile but Willow’s expression was one of consternation.

‘Oh. That’s not good.’ She frowned briefly, then her eyes widened. ‘I can find you something!’

Tara glanced at the small table and saw that there was no pile of books on it. It was an absence she had already noted, without quite realizing it.

‘Really, I’m beat.’

‘You’re sure?’ Willow still didn’t sound convinced.

Tara nodded firmly. ‘Absolutely.’

They parted in the hallway, but not before Willow had dashed into her room and retrieved the lamp, pressing it into Tara’s arms. ‘In case you get up in the night and it’s a strange place and you can’t find your way in the dark.’

Tara placed the light on the small bedside table then made a quick trip to the bathroom. When she got back she barely had the energy to get undressed before crawling into bed.

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Donegal Street * Home For Christmas * A Traditional New Year’s Eve

Dibs. What an intense update. I love the reversal of ... well, Willow feeling betrayed by Tara's fears basically. I mean Willow said something very confusing and Tara was confused and came to ask about it and that made Willow feel hurt. I love the way you portray her anguish and running in the rain and then sort of talking herself down. Tara being at home waiting was great. Really, it's all quite... stark and pure in a very lovely way. At the same time, it's ... I don't know. I'm trying to imagine having someone I haven't seen in a year come to my house and get rained on and me get rained on and putting her to bed and never saying "why are you here?" or "I had to come" It's a strange conversation to be leaving for tomorrow but I'm looking forward to it.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Clare,
Okay, you've already seen most of this already, but I'll post it up here for the record.

Overall
I really loved it this chapter, and liked how the final version came out. It was kinda neat to see that all of the crashing down that I figured was happening for Willow did, in fact, happen. Not because I want Willow to suffer, but because it makes me feel smart. It's also good that what I realistically expect as a reader is something you convey as a writer. You are writing Willow's story in a detailed and heart-wrenching manner, while staying realistic enough not to feel overly emo.

We talked (okay, you said, and I have yet to say anything back) about the idea of feedbacking about character and motivation. I feel like that's a little hard for me here because it's so obvious to me where each of them is coming from. It really feels like you've taken these characters that I know and love and just nudged one to the side a bit. This is what logically would happen. I mean, I probably could get into it, about how Willow's hurting, and is dealing with the "I did this when I was sick but I'm still responsible" as well as the "I love you but you can't/don't/shouldn't love me back" and Tara's at the "you hurt me and I love you and my life would be a whole hell of a lot easier if I didn't but if I don't protect myself we'll both be lost" place and the like . . . but that feels less interesting to me just because it's already there. Now, I'm always curious about where people think my characters are coming from, so that may make me kind of a bitch hypocrite.


Details!

This is totally awesome.



There's a band, Offspring, that I'm quite fond of. There's a lyric from one of their songs, "Self Esteem," that goes “the more I suffer, the more it shows I really care.” It's said as a demonstration of the speaker being broken, but I've experienced that feeling. Willow's experience here reminds me of that.



What I love about this is that it harkens back to Tara's thoughts on their relationship from earlier, the dream-like quality of the thing. So, well done.



I get this, that sense that someone can look at you and see a stranger because you yourself don't know where you went. And at the same time, that sense of joy and relief when they look at you, and you know that they see you again. That was technically English, and may not have made any sense to anyone but me, so let me summarize: I get that.



I love this, because Tara herself has questioned if this is true, and to how deep her feelings ran. I also like it because it's so easy to see other people's actions in absolutes, but our own in shades of grey. To Willow, Tara's love was either absolute or a lie/shallow.



Again, very real. Plus it goes back to how Willow organizes and goes about her day five minutes at a time. Thing to do: do it. Thing to do: do it. Not having to come up with that thing to do makes it easier.



This does a good job of bringing us up to speed on where Tara is, since we left her briefly to flee with Willow. I always have this background worry with my own writing, that since I've only given a really biased interpretation of what the non-POV character has been through, that I'll loose people. It hasn't really been an issue, I don't think, but I keep it in mind.



Good.

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More of a dog person, myself.
I'm from Iowa, we drive four hours for a high school football game.
Queen of Hearts • The Sincerest Form of Flattery • Drabbles

You posted another chapter before I even had time to feedback the previous. But that's definately not a complaint.

Five more minutes. Five minutes more. An hour passes. 'I've already waited this long, why not another five minutes.'

Their reverance for books is very believable for both of them, and their horror at Buffy was funny and cute.

Awkwardness and conversation, avoidance and running away. Its a start, I suppose.

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Did Curiousity kill the cat because Schrodinger opened the box?

My heart and I have wandered aimlessly beneath the Weeping Willows, searching for the sun. - Hayley Westenra, "My heart and I"

Really enjoying the angle you're taking on this. I have to agree with JustSkipIt. You're definitely showing how much of an impact Willow's betrayal had on them without making it wallow-some, even though it is a little heart wrenching. I also (and I hate to say this) like how they kind of are strangers. I think it will really give you a lot to work with and make this story even more interesting. Can't wait for more.

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Anya: I don't like the sound of this. They don't sound very ex-demon compatible.
Tara: Are you sure they're English? I thought English people were, um, gentler than uh... normal people.

An Everyday Life

Wow, your depiction of the pain that both women are suffering through is just gut wrenching and heart breaking. Seeing these things from Willow's POV and how she is just barely making through the day...well, it's just downright painful. I can see where it's going to take some time for them to get to know one another again. But, I bet before long they will realize that nothing has really changed, especially the love they have for one another. Secretly, I'm sorta hoping they decide to stay in LA...away from any outside influences.

Great job! Looking forward to the next installment!!

_________________
Shelby - Racing The Rain (IN PROGRESS) / Baby Makes Three (IN PROGRESS) / The Santa Line / Everything She Does...Is Beautiful / Calfornia Grass

"Transform your pain. Release your past. And ... uh ... get over it."
~Willow, Where The Wild Things Are

I've been lurking a bit on this story as I have a tendency to do, but your last update... wow - well done.

The turmoil, the pain and the avoidance once Willow came back, and maybe in the next we'll see why, but it was spot on for the direction of emotion.

So, I just had to say something, and let you know I'm looking forward to more.

_________________
Heather aka vampyregurl73 aka Riverwillows73

My stories:
"Dry Heat – In Progress (still)" "Penny Arcade - Completed"

My Fic Challenge entries:
"Fireworks" "Promise" "I Did What Last Night?"

I can't believe Willow just ran out like that. If she hopes to fix things with Tara she has to stay and deal with the hard stuff eventually. I am glad that they were able to have a nice meal together though. Looking forward to reading more.

Clare,

Another powerful chapter, lots to say but I’m still recovering from 11 out of 12 days spent traveling! So bear with me!


The detail makes this very moving and experiencing the surrounding sounds as louder effectively emphasizes the silence and tension. Hey, thanks for teaching me some great stuff about writing!

Like the refuge in routine conversation about travel, very real – a respite from emotion and turmoil effectively used.


And this, the tenderness and joy in being taken care of so touching!

Another one of those casual character insights that make them so real:


Then the reading lamp bit. This is lovely on a variety of levels. First, you’ve already established their shared love of books which makes the gesture a bit more special. Then Willow’s tired, but she feels a strong need to make this giving gesture and finally a little unconscious symbolism – bringing light between them to read/decipher/understand when they so badly need that in their own relationship (in fact Willow gives her OWN light which links to her damaged state and reliance on Tara). You may not have consciously mapped that out, but your instincts are marvelous.

Love this story!

Ariel
How I Met Your Mother

What an exquisite story you have here! I really appreciate your writing style; simple and yet complex, you use the perfect amount of detail to give the story that rich, luxurious feeling but without overloading it. I find myself being pulled along with the flow of the narrative, an experience I rather enjoy.

Looking forward to the journey!

JustSkipIt
Thank you. I’m really flattered by your comments. The reversal you spoke of . . . I see faults on both sides and that makes it so interesting to me. I hope to show a complex situation, not one where one person is completely to blame.


Yes, it isn’t rational. Neither asks the obvious questions because they are too scared of the potential answers. Acting on impulse has thrown them together and the close proximity is overwhelming. They are both just reacting. The wordless communication is true, but shock and confusion mean they can’t see that.

BeMyDeputy
I’m very pleased that you recognise the characters. Of course we all have different interpretations – that’s what makes the kb so interesting – but it’s important that essentially they remain true to the people we know.


It’s a frightening place to be. If you don’t see how you got there, how can you promise that you’ll never go back?


Yes, definitely. I think it takes a certain degree of balance to see the shades of grey, and Willow doesn’t have it right now.

I agree there is a danger, in showing one POV, that the reader can get lost. It’s tricky to show how one character is misinterpreting the other and to convey, at the same time, that it is a misinterpretation. Maybe it’s easier here, on the kitten board, as the readers have a very good understanding of the characters, but it’s definitely something I think about.

Thanks for all your comments Kate. Always thought-provoking.


Promthea128
Thanks so much for your comments.

I want to keep reminding myself, (and the reader), why these two should be together, despite the current pain they are causing each other.
Yes, only a start, but at least they are not in separate cities now.


beautiful_love
Thank you. I really don’t want to wallow in angst, but it doesn’t feel right to me that they should just fall into each other’s arms after everything they’ve been through.

Finey McFine

I thought the ‘Can’t we just skip it?’ scene was very clever, but I wanted to know more. It strikes me that it would take a long time to rebuild trust, on both sides.


I called this story Donegal Street partly because I couldn’t think of a good title, (I admit it), but also to show that they are in a bubble, a place where they can focus entirely on each other. On the show, it seemed like every miscommunication was amplified because they were hauled away for some Hellmouthy reason before they could resolve anything.
Thanks so much for your comments Shel.

vampyregurl73
Thanks for commenting! I’m so glad you saw it as avoidance when Willow came back. It’s a habit they’ve both got into. Run. Pretend it never happened.

love_2003

Exactly, and so does Tara. They’ve been avoiding each other for a long time and it has to change. Thanks for your feedback, it’s really appreciated.

Ariel
Hi Ariel, I hope your college search is going well. What do you plan to study?

Thank you for your detailed comments. The unspoken gestures are so important because they can’t say what they feel. I really wanted that to come across. You’ve reassured me that I’m conveying the feelings underlying the confusion and awkwardness. Their instincts are so true, it’s when they start to talk that things go awry. Maybe the fact that they connected for the first time in ‘Hush’ was symbolic? Or maybe that’s just me, trying to be clever.

Thanks again.

Lady Callie
Thank you so much. The feed back has been so thoughtful. It’s hugely encouraging and a big compliment that people are willing to take the time to comment. I hope you enjoy the next part.

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Donegal Street * Home For Christmas * A Traditional New Year’s Eve

TITLE: Donegal Street

AUTHOR: Wayland

RATING: PG-13

DISCLAIMER: Willow, Tara and any other characters from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise belong to Joss Whedon, FOX and ME.

SPOILERS: Up to and including Season Six.

SUMMARY: Tara left Willow after Tabula Rasa. It is now about a year later.

FEEDBACK: I would be grateful for your comments.

NOTES: Thanks to my beta, Vivienne, for the encouragement I needed to get this far. Thanks to BeMyDeputy for invaluable input.




Tara lay in bed, trying to resist the temptation to twist and turn. It wouldn’t help. Perhaps lying still might calm her enough to sleep. Her body ached, she felt weary to the bone, but her mind would not slow down. The events of the day – has it really only been one day? – replayed in an endless loop.

When Willow bolted out of the apartment, Tara remained frozen into place, staring at the closed door. Seeing the woman she loved in such pain stunned her, quite literally. She could not react, could not think. Like that time Donnie had been driving the truck - too fast as usual - and they had rounded a bend and collided with a tree. That timeless moment of emptiness, that absence. Sight and sound and thought suspended, until the pain had arrived, bringing her back to herself.

Willow. The pain on Willow’s face. The woman she loved. For so long Tara had not even allowed herself to think it. But she had never attempted to deny the fact. Not loving Willow was unimaginable. It would be like deciding not to breathe.

Tara groped for the edge of the kitchen table, leaning her weight on it, then slumped onto the chair. The woman she loved. She tasted the thought, caressed its sweet familiarity. Love was never the problem. But she knew what happened when you loved someone that much. When they inevitably changed, there were no defences. The hold was too strong, the idea of being alone was too terrifying. You stayed, in hope and in fear, until it was too late to leave. Stayed even when, angry at the world, they chipped away at everything they once loved. Day after day, year after year, until there was almost nothing left. A shadow of a woman, a shadow of a mother.

Tara stared dumbly at the kitchen door, sitting absolutely still, as if not moving would make the pain lessen and then disappear.

Willow was doing well, Buffy had said so, Dawn had said so. Had they lied, or was that what they truly believed? She had stopped using magic and then started a new life in the city away from the temptations of the Hellmouth. Despite herself, Tara had felt a tinge of pride when she’d heard Xander boast that his old friend had secured a good job almost immediately. Then he had remembered that Tara was in the room. The memory of the awkward silence that followed still pained her. Did he know? Tara replayed the conversation in her mind, straining for any nuance she had missed. Was his pride a little forced? Did relief colour his cheerful grin? Had they all been blind, or was the fault hers alone?

Giving up magic must have been hard, but Tara knew Willow. Once she had made the decision to stop - for her own sake and not for other people’s - then her trademark determination would have done the rest. The Rosenberg resolve was a formidable thing. Of course she was successful in the city. Unlike herself, Willow had a wealth of other talents to fall back on. She had a brilliant mind and a charming humility that won her loyalty and respect in equal measure.

The idea that Willow was hurting that much . . . the image of her stricken expression felt like a physical weight on Tara’s chest, suffocating her.

Tara knew she had been right to leave. Hearing that Willow was doing well only confirmed it. On the rare occasions she’d allowed herself to think about her former lover, that knowledge had comforted her. She had saved herself, and perhaps she really had helped Willow to face up to her misuse of magic.

Love was never the problem. Unless it wasn’t enough. And then it became a burden, a millstone dragging its object off course and into the darkness. She had spared them that. For once, she had acted instead of waiting passively for the inevitable. Not soon enough. Certainly not soon enough for Dawn. But she had acted. She had saved their relationship from descending further into bitterness and reproach. She had given up the person she loved most but she had survived. Tara knew how to survive. To shut down and block out even the thought of things she was never meant to have. And Willow had recovered. Recovered her friends and her life. Surely Willow was happy?

Sitting alone in the kitchen, Tara closed her eyes. It made no difference, she could still see Willow’s face.

She felt a sudden, powerful urge to go back and erase the last few minutes. To make that image go away. To make the chaos in her head just stop. The thought nauseated her. It didn’t work like that. Memories existed. They could be obscured but not undone. Ripples still spread, even when the stone disappeared from view.

Later, how much later she did not know, the smell of burning finally registered - a welcome distraction. Tara stood up stiffly and opened the oven. The lasagnas were a little black around the edges, but not ruined. She turned the heat down, then searched the kitchen until she found a cloth. Folding it over several times, she used it to manoeuvre the dishes to a lower shelf. For some reason, the movement brought to mind putting away the leftover food after her mother’s funeral. Filling little plastic boxes with potato salad and chicken legs. Two days later her father had packed up her mother’s clothes and taken them to Goodwill.

The garlic bread was on the counter. She pressed a finger against the plastic packaging. It was soft. It would only take a few minutes to cook.

She sat down again. Should she leave? Was that what Willow wanted? She was still sitting when she heard the crash of the front door.



Tara pushed back the cover and swung her legs out of bed. She sat up and switched on the lamp. It was very late. They had gone to bed hours ago. She had spent hours replaying the same scenes.

Relief.

When Willow burst into the kitchen, breathless and frantic, Tara felt an overwhelming sense of relief that drove out all other thoughts. Only then, when Willow was back, miraculously standing in front of her, did Tara realise her crushing fear that she would never see this woman again. She rose from her seat and continued to prepare the meal, acutely conscious of the rasping breaths behind her, the sounds that meant that Willow was still there. Tara moved around the kitchen, placing the bread in the oven as if unaware of any other presence but her own. When she was a child it was the way she had coaxed timid wild animals to come closer to the house, dropping pieces of food behind her, never looking back. She rearranged the dishes. The simple task was soothing. Then a tiny gasp behind her compelled Tara to turn round. Willow was shivering. Dark strands of wet hair obscured her face but it didn’t seem to occur to her to push them away. She looked so fragile, as if a light breeze would blow her over. Tara suggested that she go and change into some warm clothes, marvelling at the calmness of her voice. Willow nodded, then, as if in a delayed reaction, she nodded again and stepped backwards, carefully, into the hall.

They ate in silence mostly, from time to time exchanging casual remarks of no consequence. Tara felt as though her mind had taken in too much in too short a time and was no longer processing. Like a computer, its screen hanging when it had been given a series of conflicting instructions. The analogy was one Willow might have made, she realised, but the thought brought only a faint amusement and not grief.

It had been peaceful.

So peaceful that Tara had been convinced that the moment her head touched the pillow she would sleep. Instead, her brain had woken up and begun its remorseless churning.

She perched on the edge of the bed and pressed her bare toes into the carpet. The texture was harsh, ungiving. They’d had the loveliest thick rug beside their bed in the Summers’ house. It was soft and beautiful and they had chosen it together. She wondered where it was now, whether Willow had brought it with her when she left.

Tara rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty. For hours she had tried every meditation she knew, but each time her concentration had failed and her thoughts had wandered, all of them focused on the woman sleeping down the hall.

She was down the hall, wasn’t she? Tara shivered. Ridiculous. Where else would Willow be?

But she could check, a quick glance into Willow’s room, just to make sure. Then, surely, she would sleep.



Tara paused in the doorway and took a deep breath. Then another. A small night light illuminated the huddled figure on the bed. Willow was lying on her left side, facing the wall. The blankets were pulled up to her shoulders so that only the dark red of her hair was visible. Tara stood motionless. Her eyes flickered, taking in every detail she could see of the sleeping form. Willow had always tossed and turned at night and Tara had often been woken by the unintelligible mutterings of her lover. She would tease her in the mornings, asking if her restless mind ever slept. Tonight, Willow was still. Tara wrapped her arms around herself as the chilly night air seeped through her skin, into her bones.

She could not go in. She would not go in. Unless and until she was ready to forgive, she had no right. It would not be even remotely fair.

She felt a pressure on her chest, a tightness in her breathing. She knew that one small step would lead her to the comfort her body yearned for. But she would not. Tomorrow would be difficult enough. She would not add yet more hurt and confusion. Willow sighed in her sleep, a soft delicate sound. Tara did not move. The craving tasted like salt on her tongue. She needed to propel her body along the hall and away. It was the only possibility. Anything else would be . . . unconscionable. Her selfish impulse would not overrule her good sense. Tara pressed her fingers into the wood of the door frame. She peered into the darkened room, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears.

Then she gave in.

Walking softly over the threshold, she took the few steps to her ex-girlfriend’s bed. Tara leaned over and pulled back the covers, then let her weight down gently on the side of the bed. She paused, listening intently to the even pattern of Willow’s breathing. After a few seconds she swung her legs up and slid them beneath the sheet. Again she stopped, all her senses straining for any sign that the woman beside her was stirring. Then she cautiously slipped her left hand between Willow’s waist and the mattress. The pressure of the body on her arm made something in her chest twist. So much less substantial than she remembered, so much more fragile. Hitching the blankets over her own shoulders, Tara wriggled closer, then carefully curled her right arm around Willow’s body until her hands were clasping. With a wordless murmur, Willow shifted, pressing backwards into her. Tara froze for a moment. But Willow settled, the only movement was the slight in and out of her chest. Tara felt every muscle in her body relax. Then she buried her face in shampoo-scented hair and a few minutes later, she slept.

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Donegal Street * Home For Christmas * A Traditional New Year’s Eve

Dibs!

ETA: Yeah, yeah, I really should, you know, actually feedback. So, here we go.


I noticed that she had thought of Willow as the woman she loved when she thought it in passing, and loved that she came back to the knowledge that she'd thought it. It really adds to the sense that it's a part of herself that never stopped being, just one that she boxed up.


This is a really great expression of loving someone being part of who you are in any particular moment, and what you choose to do about it is all that you can control.


I really like that you’re showing us what she’s afraid of here; the show doesn’t do a good job of showing why Tara reacts the way she does . . . well, to most things, actually. I think that's why Tara is both a great and difficult character in terms of canon-world writing: you have a set of actions, with very few motivations. So you get to/need to make them up.


I love the repetition here.


This feels weird to me, but I think it’s a personal bias thing: since I don't think love is ever enough, it feels very strange to say "unless."


I think it’s really telling that you put Tara (who I, at least, like to think of as very insightful) thinking this when Willow has just explained that she is, in fact, not.


I love how gently you slide in this tremendous selfishness on Tara’s part. She wishes away the knowledge that Willow is hurting, the image of her pained face. While she’s wishing for impossible things, she doesn’t wish them not to be true.


This detail, and the details of just how she deals with the lasagne in the oven are a good way of connecting these as events that just shatter your perception of reality, and you end up focused on little details.


I like this because being with someone always changes who you are, and after a breakup, those changes hurt. It feels like because it doesn't hurt here (which seems to be rather new), Tara's in a much better place to actually deal with Willow, even in all midst of everything being very screwed up right now.


Damn, I hate it when this happens.


Ugh. Familiar.


Good.

_________________
More of a dog person, myself.
I'm from Iowa, we drive four hours for a high school football game.
Queen of Hearts • The Sincerest Form of Flattery • Drabbles

Clare,

So true, so touching, and so powerful.


GREAT choice for the POV shift here. To see the other side of Tara’s ‘calm’ from the previous chapter and that phrase, “like deciding not to breathe” captures their love so perfectly.

So I’m not giving detailed analysis or astute, helpful criticism. Just reacting emotionally and loving what I’m reading.


Trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. These moments are so true and so truly beautiful.

Thank you.

Ariel
How I Met Your Mother

As someone who often has her brain wake up when sleep is what is needed, I could relate. I like that Willow wasn't all awake and thinking, and the natural cuddling in took over. Great story

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Atlantic Antics Meeting Expectations
Learning to Laugh What I Discovered at Band Camp

Clare,

You ability to make the reader feel what your characters are feeling is truly inspiring. I literally felt everything Tara was feeling. I really love that we got to see the events play out from Tara's POV. The last chapter had me wondering exactly what was going through her head and you totally delivered in this chapter. Painful, tender and real.



How could she not? Such a pure moment and I totally get it. There is nothing more comforting and soothing that snuggling up to the person you love.

Great job!! Can't wait to read more!

_________________
Shelby - Racing The Rain (IN PROGRESS) / Baby Makes Three (IN PROGRESS) / The Santa Line / Everything She Does...Is Beautiful / Calfornia Grass

"Transform your pain. Release your past. And ... uh ... get over it."
~Willow, Where The Wild Things Are

Really glad to see an update. Great Chapter its like I can feel all the emotions Tara is feeling like I'm there with her. Great writing can't wait for more!

Of course Tara can only sleep when Willow is in her arms. That's where she belongs.

The way you write, the pain and the love are so real, it makes me ache for them.

_________________
Did Curiousity kill the cat because Schrodinger opened the box?

My heart and I have wandered aimlessly beneath the Weeping Willows, searching for the sun. - Hayley Westenra, "My heart and I"

As a professional toss and turn sleeper, I appreciate the detail you gave this chapter. I know the one thing that soothes my restlessness is curling around my love.

Thank you for this chapter!

I don't think I've ever read such a sensual description of just starting to sleep. I wonder how embarrassed tara will be or whether this still just sort of fast forward the dialog. You do a wonderful job of sharing insight into tara's experience while willow was gone. Really awesome.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Favorite line of the update. I know they need to talk but hopefully this will push them into the right direction. They needed something bold to happen to get the dialogue going. Good for Tara for taking that step. Looking forward to Willow's reaction when she finally wakes up.

BeMyDeputy
Thanks for the great feedback, you always have something interesting to say and I appreciate you taking the time to share your ideas. It’s a big compliment.

You’re right, Tara has boxed up so much of herself. It’s not exactly denial, because you have to actually consider things in order to deny their truth, so it’s beyond that.


I agree that love is never enough. Tara is really alluding to the myth that ‘love conquers all’. Her experience has taught her otherwise.


Also, I’m fascinated by the way we carry on with all the mundane stuff in the midst of emotional turmoil, and the way our outsides completely fail to match our insides at those times. And often, other people only notice the outward face.


As a character she is a bit of an enigma and for me, that makes her so interesting. Her desire to wish away the knowledge of Willow’s pain is actually selfishness, but it’s the kind of human reaction that I find makes her more likeable – because she isn’t perfect.


Ariel
Tara’s ‘calm’ was what Willow saw, and neither woman is really seeing the other at this time, so I had to explain what Tara was actually feeling.

The scene you quoted was the first one I wrote, and for me, it was the pivot of the story. So, if it had had no impact, I would have felt that I had failed, that I hadn’t conveyed what I was aiming for. I’m delighted with your reaction, and grateful that you took the time to write it.

We both appreciate constructive criticism, I know, but praise is also very, very good to hear. Thank you.

Taranwillow4ever
Thanks! Glad you liked the update and that it rang true, thanks for reading.

Finey_McFine
I’m so glad, (and relieved) that you could empathise with Tara. This type of story is all about that kind of identification - there’s precious little action or plot twists. The Cliff Notes version would run to about twenty words, I reckon. It’s all about the way the characters feel.
Thanks for reading and I’m grateful for your positive words.

WR/TM
Thanks for the feedback. I’m very happy the feelings came over well. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Promthea128
Thanks for taking the time to feedback. I’m very pleased it seemed right to you.

Lady Callie
Thanks for commenting. Glad you liked the details!

JustSkipIt
Thank you so much. I was bracing myself for feedback on this chapter, I was worried in case the way I had written Tara was not convincing. I’m always very grateful for any positive comments, but especially here.

‘sensual description’ is a lovely comment to receive. Thank you for reading and for making the effort to leave feedback.


love_2003
Small steps, but they will end up in the right direction, I can promise you that. Thanks for reading and commenting.

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Donegal Street * Home For Christmas * A Traditional New Year’s Eve