1st Spell

[moontothetide]

Who: Tara and whoever she happens to stumble across
What: A newcomer tries to find her way out, and instead finds a hell of a lot of trouble along the way.
When: All day
Where: The floors listed below
Format: Commentspam or prose, I'll copy whatever you give me
Warning: T for danger and possible violence

Awareness returns all in a rush. The haze and disorientation that always follow teleporting are a little slower to fade. But the first thing Tara knows is that she's on her back, resting on what feels like a mattress.

Opening her eyes reveals a ceiling. It's not a terribly distinctive ceiling. Tara attempts to turn her head, to see and take in more of the room and maybe get a sense of where she is. And the failure of her body to respond to even that simple command is enough to confirm for her that she can't move.

A few more seconds of increasingly desperate and entirely fruitless attempts to move result, before Tara gives up and relaxes her whipcord tense muscles with a whimper. Actually speaking up takes psyching herself up a bit, but finally she manages it.

"Um...h-hello? Can...c-can someone please help me? Or at least, m-maybe tell me how I got here? I...I don't remember. A-And, I...kind of can't seem to move. At all."

Later on, after the sleep paralysis has worn off, Tara can be found wandering the halls of the second dormitory level. She's fished a change of clothes out of her trunk, as well as - after some hesitation - her knife, and feels a bit more herself in a shirt and pants with the knife hanging off her belt. Both hands are clamped tight around her collar, her pale fingers obviously trying to tug it looser, to find any give in it and failing. Indigo liquid runs through it, marking her as an official resident of the tower, now. Her shoulders are hunched and the girl darts a nervous glance at every door she passes and every person she sees. But anyone who looks back will find Tara hastily looking away, staring fixedly at her feet and trying not to be noticed.

***

Tara is sitting at the top of the staircase, eyeing the perilous way down with wariness and exhaustion. She's bleeding and bruised - blood streams down her arm from what appear to be claw marks in her shoulder, and the back of her shirt is torn, as though something made a grab at her as she fled and just barely missed.

In her efforts to magically urge the skin of her arm to knit a little more quickly, she's not liable to notice anyone else on the staircase right away, or her immediate surroundings at all. Given the poor state of repair it seems to be in, this might not be a very good thing for either of you. 

***

After learning even what little she has and seeing even what little she's seen of the tower thus far, Tara is reluctant to relax, even here. The garden that spreads out before her looks lush, beautiful, and peaceful. But there's danger here, and strangeness. She only needs to run her hand along her collar to know that.

But, even so, Tara finds herself wandering out into the garden, drinking in the quiet and letting the scent of flowers soothe her shattered nerves just a bit. She'll stay here, for just a while, wandering the meadow. Every so often, she'll stoop, pick a flower, and weave it into a growing daisy chain she seems to be crafting. But at the slightest sound, the slightest hint of another presence, she goes tense, gaze darting about for signs of danger. If you've just entered the garden, you'll likely feel Tara staring fixedly at you, a half finished daisy chain hanging in her hands, wondering if you're a threat and what she should do if you are.

***

Anyone coming up on the steps leading up on floor twenty two or the steps leading down on floor twenty four are liable to suddenly run into Tara coming the other way. She hurries either up or down the steps with a rather lost expression on her face, to immediately be replaced by one of surprise as she nearly runs into anyone. "O-Oh, my god, I'm so sorry..."

But then, with a frown, she stares up back the way she'd come with an expression of determination. "Not again..."

She turns, as though to start off on the stairs again.

***

Tara is dismayed to find that the staircase seems to simply end, here in the cafeteria. And, after all the walking she's done and the fright she's endured to get down this far, she absolutely refuses to accept it.

So she begins to search. Tara is growing increasingly aware that she's trapped, but refuses to accept it with her last threads of stubbornness. Attempting not to catch the eye of the other people here, Tara begins to pace the perimeter of the room, running her hands along the walls, searching for hidden catches or secret doors. Finding nothing, she examines the floor, seeking signs of trap doors. Finally, in a state of agitation and the in the center of the floor, Tara gives a frustrated growl and stamps her foot. She says a word in Latin that would, under ordinary circumstances, unlock any locked door within her range. But nothing happens, and she knows it, and finally Tara slumps to her knees in defeat. Her stomach feels impossibly empty. Maybe the people who run this madhouse will at least have the decency to feed her.

Comments

oh gosh there is going to be so much tl;dr in this thread, isn't there XD

[guiltapalooza]

Willow makes frequent trips to the meadow. It's one of the few places she feels safe in, where nothing traumatic has ever happened to her, and it reminds her of Devon. Of quiet, and recovering herself, and meditating. Since arriving she's also come to associate it with Tara-- it's where she goes when she wants to visit her grave, since the real one is inaccessible to her. And though it's been a year now for her since Tara died, and she's spent these long, long months coming to terms with that, with never expecting to see her again, it has passed through her mind that she might show up here. The tower has brought dead people here before, after all, and other versions of people, many times. The thought is an upsetting one to Willow, when it occurs to her; Tara deserves her rest, deserves heaven. She doesn't want what happened to Buffy to happen to her.

But this isn't on her mind at all when she steps out into the tall, gently waving grasses. She's injured, and just wants some peace. There's an ugly, scabbed over scrape across her cheek, with yellow bruises blossoming out from it; and a small splint on her hand, and fresh white bandages visible here and there where her clothes end. Willow had been released from the infirmary several days ago, but staying cooped up is depressing, and she's tired of being depressed.

So that's why she's here. When she sees Tara, she comes to a slow stop. It's not real. All rationality leaves her, and she seems like a ghost, sitting there making a daisy-chain as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't died. But she had, and to Willow it feels like a cruel trick, one she doesn't know whether she should buy into.

Her voice is weak and shaky. "T-Tara...?" She can't move, she can't do anything, she can't believe. The shock is too strong, numbing.

Here's hopin'! 8D

[moontothetide]

When Tara thinks of heaven, she thinks that Willow must have gone there, and that, more than anything, she'll never make it that far to see her. Yes, Willow had made her mistakes, Willow had gone down the wrong path. But she'd wanted to change, she'd been trying to change. Given the time so harshly denied her, Tara has never been anything but certain that Willow could have made it.

But that was a future that she would never know.

"Your shirt..."

Scant days go by where Tara doesn't hear Willow's voice. The difference is that she's forgotten what it sounds like when it isn't twisted in mockery, or hate, or in taunting her with her mistakes. So she cringes, very slightly, when she hears her name spoken in that familiar, beloved voice. But she can't help but raise her head. Every visit by Willow's ghost is still a thing to treasure, a gift she doesn't deserve. So what if Willow hates her, now? At least Willow is still, in some small, sad way, with her. At least she has the chance to etch Willow's face into her memory a little more deeply.

But there's something different in Willow's face, this time. Something softer about it, and somehow indefinably realer. She looks upset, yes, but...it's not the same.

Still. She looks upset. She's looking at Tara, and she looks upset. Tara sags, her shoulders slumping in even further. Well, why shouldn't she look upset? Tara failed her, yet again. She couldn't do what needed to be done, and because of her the Hellmouth would remain open. Yes, closing it would have required taking a life, and she hadn't wanted to, not again, she'd never born Andrew any ill will, no matter what she'd told Willow...but one life, against all the people of Sunnydale. How could there ever have been a choice? Why hadn't she just shoved Dawn aside?

And now Willow was upset. Tara would teleport herself back to that dark cavern and slit Andrew's throat here and now, if only she knew how, if only it would make Willow happy.

But she couldn't. She was trapped, the collar around her throat a definite symbol of bondage. And so, caught in the intensity of Willow's gaze, Tara can only worry at the daisy chain and stammer out a reply, all while looking back at Willow as though she's simultaneously the most beautiful and terrible thing she's ever seen.

"...Willow. Um...h-hey."

[guiltapalooza]

How is she just sitting there? It's like she expects to see her. Some tiny voice in Willow's mind is aware that this might be another Tara, one that isn't hers, but it's still Tara. Her emotions are running too haywire for that bit of sense to permeate through. It hurts-- it hurts just seeing her, but it also hurts to see her nervous, to see her shy away from her. To do anything that isn't get up and run toward her and have a joyful reunion.

But it's not a joyful reunion for her, either, and she can't deny that. She'd like it to be. She wishes it could be as simple as Buffy stepping out of the way, and there she is, alive and whole and forgiving her. Forgiving each other, for leaving, for everything. It's not. Willow feels all the irrational regret and betrayal that anyone feels when a loved one has died, and though she'd mostly put that to rest, seeing her again now summons it up. Her throat squeezes shut, she chokes; a few silent tears start to run down her face as the reality hits her, and she lets out a soft, pained noise.

Even without Eridan, if he didn't exist, this wouldn't be so straight forward as pure relief and happiness for her. Because now she has to deal with the possibility that all the things she's told herself aren't true. Maybe Tara can't forgive her, maybe she wouldn't be happy, maybe she wouldn't understand her moving on. Maybe everything Willow has done since she'd died would only make her disappointed in her.

Willow has worked so, so hard, put herself through so much, to have any shred of confidence in herself again. Tara could destroy so much of that.

And yet... and yet. She trusts her. She has never trusted anyone more in her entire life. She is the person that Willow has used as inspiration and hope, as invisible guidance every time she's had a moral question. In her heart of hearts, she has no doubt, none, that Tara loves her more than she could ever be afraid of her. Sometimes that thought has been all that's kept her going.

It takes several long moments of standing silently and crying for this to surface, but when it does she starts to smile through her tears. She's incoherent, she doesn't know what she wants to say, doesn't know where to start.

She knows one thing. "Tara-- baby... Come here, I-- I have to see you. Come here." She has to touch her and make sure she's real, and wipe away that anxiety from her face. Willow has always wanted to do that for her, ever since meeting her; and she does now, especially.

She takes a step toward her, unable to wait, needing this so badly.

[moontothetide]

She flinches again when Willow takes a step near. But when she speaks, pleads, it feels like her heart is dying in her chest. The pain, the loss and remorse and guilt and need for the other, is so sharp that Tara gasps very softly, pressing a hand over her chest.

Despite herself, Tara finds herself stumbling to her feet, still clutching the half finished braid of flowers like a lifeline. Standing there, looking back at Willow, she feels the urge to obey, to run to her and throw her arms around her. A scant few feet away, she looks so real, she looks so alive, as though Tara really could embrace her and never, never let go again...

But it's a lie. It's always a lie. Willow, her sweet Willow, is dead and forever beyond her reach, except when she deigns to appear and remind Tara of how far she's fallen. She can hear her voice and look upon her, but she can't ever hold her again and Tara is suddenly so very tired of being taunted with that fact.

Even so, if only for the fact that Willow doesn't seem to be angry about what happened, she musters up a tremulous smile. "I'm here," she says, releasing a trembling hand to gesture at herself. "R-Right here. Visible and everything."

She'd never made the attempt. Even when Willow was dead and bloodied in her arms, Tara never tried to bring her back. She knew better. She understood better. Or so she'd thought at the time. Maybe if she'd stayed casting fruitless spells and wasted her energy trying to call Willow's soul back, things might have been different.

It was justice, what she'd done to Warren. Even now, Tara believed that. But it was awful justice, an awful thing she'd done and awful things she'd done to get that far. She didn't expect anyone to understand, or forgive. Willow least of all. She knows she doesn't deserve it.

But the last time she'd held Willow had been when they were both covered in her blood. Tara would give anything for this not to be a lie.

She takes a step forward, drawn by the sound of Willow's voice and the last shreds of hope she thought she'd lost a long time ago.

[guiltapalooza]

It was funny how as much as you'd thought you'd given up on something, one bare moment can make it all come back and make you hope again.

Willow doesn't have have any reason to think that Tara would be a figment of the First-- it's been so long since she's even thought of it as more than a distant threat, to be fought again at some remote time in the future. It's so far away from here, from the tower.

There's no question in her mind, no hesitation, as all of a sudden she rushes forward and wraps her arms around her. She clutches her and hides her face in her shoulder, and it's that moment after Glory had been defeated and Tara had returned to sanity all over again. If this had been even several months ago, she knows what she'd be saying: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, an endless round of apologies. But lately Willow has come to finally understand how selfish that is, indulging in her own fears and insecurities.

Sometimes it should be about Tara, not her.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers, tears choking her voice. "I didn't remember. You're beautiful."

Because this has to happen

[wwaterboy]

Eridan likes to visit the meadow with its flowers and gardens as well. He is walking through the area, his facial fins relaxed for once, and his hair shiny with pomade, the purple streak a jaunty curl that mirrors the jagged lines of his horns.

When he sees the human, sees her alert like a frightened deer, he pauses as well and his fins prick up with interest and no concern. He pushes his glasses up with a clawed fingertip and smiles with shark's teeth.

"Don't wworry, I'm not about to do nothin to disturb you, human."

Oh, yes. Yes, it does.

[moontothetide]

Tara's mouth tightens into a thin line, whirring back up to speed and out of her shocked haze at the sound of his voice. So he says, but...well, the last time Tara had any dealings with a shark-like demon, he'd brought a mob of thugs to bust up the Magic Box. Any amount of time in Sunnydale tends to make one wary of facial fins.

But, on the other hand, he has a collar, like her. He's probably not any happier to be here than she is. She can sympathize with that much, at least.

"F-Fine," she stammers, giving Eridan a nod. Even so, she backs up a few steps more, casting a glance over at the stairs. "Th-That's, um, nice of you."

[wwaterboy]

He can see she's skittish, and the sight of him certainly hasn't made her feel more comfortable. He folds his arms, not advancing as she backs away. "You wwant to bolt, go ahead. I wwon't followw, but I'm not the fuckin threat you'vve got to wworry about, and I ain't the only troll in the towwer, either. You'd be betta off gettin' used to us."

He cocks his head. "You neww? Did you just get here?"

[moontothetide]

She nods, just once. Her hands tighten slightly around the flowers, her already pale skin going chalk white around her knuckles.

"I-I can handle...'trolls'," she says.

Of course, Eridan looks like no troll she's ever seen, in or out of Giles' books. Much too short and scrawny, definitely not the sort of person to go around swinging giant hammers. Perhaps he's some...odd sort of sea troll. Giant hammers must weigh less, down here.

"...w-what do I have to worry about?"

She'd already been tossed unceremoniously off the staircase a few floors up, right into a particularly hungry brute, but somehow she knew that was only part of the problem.

[wwaterboy]

Eridan thinks about this. "The towwer itself. Full a monsters that'd like to take a bit out a you." He nods to the blood on her arm. "Looks like you'vve already discovvered that. An the people wwho kidnapped us like to do experiments. Plus some a the prisoners are vviolent. You see a guy wwho looks like me only--" He raises a hand above his head about a foot. "Maybe that tall, you best to be cautious. Or an evven bigger land troll wwith paint on his face, you just fuckin' run. That's my advvice. But most a the other trolls are okay."

He pauses, then offers his hand, even though she's far too far away to shake hands. "I'm Eridan Ampora, by the wway. Unconscionable a me not to say right awway."

At the top of the staircase

[fracta_anima]

Minami had been doing her rounds when she spotted Tara. The other woman looked new and was bleeding with claw marks. Of course she had to help her. Minami could distract herself from everything best when she was helping someone.

"Hey, you need a hand with that?" she asks, approaching the woman from behind and leaning over, hands on her knees to get a better look at the wound. The persona Titania might be able to help with that but Minami knew better than to just heal without asking.

\o/

[moontothetide]

Tara's eyes fly open with a gasp and she starts away from Minami, staring up at her in brief alarm and confusion as awareness returns. It's sheer dumb luck that she manages to stay on the staircase.

"W-What? Um..." And then she realizes where Minami is looking, and Tara glances over at her torn shoulder, and hastily shakes her head. "N-No thanks. I-I'm okay. Th-Thank you, though. Nice of you."

[fracta_anima]

Wow, she hadn't meant to startle her that much. Minami stands up straight, scratching the back of her head as she laughs sheepishly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just meant I could summon something that could help with the healing, if you want?"

She'd been in this Tower long enough and known people had different powers long enough that Minami was slowly losing her need to keep her own abilities secret. If they could help this girl, then it was no big deal. She'd just have to make sure she closed her eyes so she wouldn't see how the summoning was done.

[moontothetide]

"I-It's okay. I mean, I-I just...I can get really focused. W-With..." She gestures helplessly at her still bleeding arm.

"...s-summon? Y-You can summon things?"

Even with her power, and even with draining a handy pusher, summoning is still something Tara would consider a fairly major undertaking.

"A-And you could...control it?"

[fracta_anima]

"Yeah," Minami said. Normally. The incident where their collars swapping and she lost control aside.

"It's sort of a common thing in my universe. Well, not super common, but common enough there's quite a few people where I'm from who can do it. It's not the same for all worlds from what I've been hearing."

Dang this woman is in pain if she can barely speak. Minami kneels down beside her, reaches out a hand to her good shoulder to help steady her.

"You okay with that?"

Floor 23 only Not

[metawoof]

Echidna was on her way up; and sidesteps around Tara when she bumps into her. "--Oh, don't worry about it!"

Of course before the words were barely out of her mouth, Tara was going back up the stair case. Curiosity got the best of her, and she went up a few steps and followed her. "What'cha doing?"

[moontothetide]

"S-Sorry!" Tara calls back, glancing over her shoulder at Echidna as she climbs the stairs again "I-It's just, I think there's something on this floor, a-and I missed it, and I wanted..."

But, at that, she passes out of sight onto the next floor. A few seconds later, Tara will come walking back down the stairs, looking dazed, confused, and frustrated. She stops, gives a huff, and looks back up the way she'd come.

"Not again..."

[metawoof]

Echidna stared a little dumbly until Tara came back into sight. "You..missed something?"

She hopped up the stairs until she was on the step below the other girl. Man, she didn't look so good, and that was a bit concerning. "Are you feeling OK? You don't look so good. Did you lose something, or...?"

[moontothetide]

Tara really didn't look so hot. Her skin had gone chalk white with a tinge of grey, and she was sweating and swaying a bit on her feet. "Y-Yeah," she said, her voice a little slurred. Again, she looked back up the stairs. "I-I just...yeah. I m-missed it again. Just, um, w-wait right here, I'll just..."

Turning back around and trying to brace herself on a rail that wasn't there, Tara started up the steps again. But her progress was stumbling and slower, this time, and probably slow enough for Echidna to reach out and grab her torn shirt.

[metawoof]

Yep, there was no way Echidna was letting Tara go off by herself. She hopped on the steps after her, reaching out for her shirt both to get her to stop and to offer some form of support in case she fell.

"Hey-- if you need help finding something I can help you, but I think you need to go to the infirmary. You look like death warmed over!"

backtag to the top of the staircase ~because~

[beknightedheroine]

It's the magic use that pings Sayaka - she's grown well accustomed to the amount of magic users pervading the tower, but it's hard not to look when she can clearly pick up that someone's using it. When she finds Tara obviously injured as she is, Sayaka pales and approaches at a quick pace.

"Hey, lady..!"

This is a good reason!

[moontothetide]

There is someone talking. Why is there someone talking when she's trying to patch herself up? That person can't be talking to her, can she?

...footsteps approaching. She can. Tara forces one eye open, trying to keep the majority of her concentration on her magic.

"Y-Yeah...?"

[beknightedheroine]

Sayaka comes to a imbalanced stop at edge of a step, catching herself on a wall. "Uh," she pauses, as this is the first time she's ever seen anyone else's healing magic at work, and it's fascinating but seems surprisingly subpar to her own heal factor, wow. She can.. sort of see it slowly working..?

"Something got you, right? ..Did you get it back?"

[moontothetide]

"T-Tried to. But it was...six feet tall and looked kind of like a troll. S-So, um, mostly there was running. A-And some flying."

Even so, Tara does look at least a little pleased with herself for getting that far. For a girl coming face to face with her first Uruk-Hai, she can guess that she's pretty lucky to get away with a torn up arm and shredded shirt. Flying is a useful thing.

[beknightedheroine]

"A troll..?" ..had one of the alien dudes went crazy again? Sayaka thought it might have just been a monster encounter, but if it was a troll, that could be another tower resident that's gone bloodthirsty.. and would go looking for other people to hurt.

Forcing a look of confidence, Sayaka summons a sword from nowhere, and shoulders it. "..leave it to me! I'll make sure they can't claw up anybody else."

..keep in mind this is what looks to be a 13-year-old saying this.