❝trying to talk my way out of this❞

[guiltapalooza]

Characters: Willow and whoever. OPEN.
Setting: Sixth floor (the forest).
Format: I slightly prefer action over prose, but I'll match whatever you want to do!
Summary: Willow's been doing a lot of magic lately, and tries to meditate to help manage it. Unfortunately she picks the worst place possible. Run into her in A or B, just let me know which one in the subject!
Warnings: Grief. Addiction recovery.


A.

[Since she got here, she's been doing magic almost nonstop. Well, not really, but it feels that way. Casual, advanced, ritual and on the fly-- she's even been teaching it, a little. Willow desperately needs to meditate and feel the Earth beneath her before it catches up with her. She can feel the temptation, feel how easy it is, to just solve everything with a burst of power and a hand gesture, maybe a well-placed word...

But it doesn't solve everything, and it won't bring Tara back. Tara, who had just wanted the best for her; who had wanted her to use magic for good things, as an expression of compassion toward the world. Not for selfish reasons. Willow feels intensely ashamed that she still struggles with this, but that doesn't mean she doesn't. She needs the grass under her hands and trees above her head to recenter herself. To find peace.

She shakes out a circle of ash about five feet in diameter, within sight of the stairs. It's a magical perimeter, intended to stop anything with malicious intent from crossing in and harming her. She hasn't had to use one in years, but Eridan had warned her about the monsters lurking in the woods. Willow uses one now, and settles herself cross-legged in the middle.]


B.

[Some time later, just as she'd really been settling into her inner space, the part of herself that stays calm and undisturbed no matter how much black magic roils through her... she hears a voice, and her breath catches. She could've sworn her heart stopped.]

Tara? [she whispers, and a moment later, she hears another trace of it echoing again.

No. She's dead. Willow lurches to her feet, leaving the small bowl of ash behind, forgotten, and rushes over to the stairs. She's breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, as she races down them.]

Comments

[consumedpast.livejournal.com]

Communing, you say.... For what purpose?

[guiltapalooza]

To regain my strength, get a sense of purpose. I'm a witch. When I do magic, it can get... overwhelming.

The Earth itself? Kinda never overwhelmed. Feeling that helps. [Helps her stay herself and not turn into Darth Rosenberg again, is what she means, but Willow doesn't want to approach those thoughts right now, not when she's in such a good mood.]

[consumedpast.livejournal.com]

Would it be at all possible for me to join you?

[guiltapalooza]

Oh! Yeah, sure. My grass is your grass. Just don't disrupt the circle, please?

I'm Willow, by the way, [she adds with a friendly smile.]

[consumedpast.livejournal.com]

Yes, of course.



A pleasure, I'm Alice. What exactly is the next step? I'm afraid I don't "commune" very often.

[guiltapalooza]

[Willow's befriended several of the stoic types before and is not put off at all, regardless.]

Ordinarily this would be a long, involved process, but if you don't mind some hand holding I can take a major shortcut and just show you.

[consumedpast.livejournal.com]

Not at all.

[guiltapalooza]

[She takes Alice's hands in her own, lightly clasping. Her hands are slender and uncalloused, an academic and not a physical fighter. She gives her a reassuring smile.]

Just relax and focus on your breathing. I'll do all the work. [This is something she liked sharing with others, something easy and positive for her. It starts as a faint tingling, but the pins and needles in her fingers soon vanishes, and it's like someone is ever so slowly pouring cool water into her, drip by drip.

It's a little metallic, not the crystalline surety of the Earth but still unambiguous and soothing. Willow finds her own breath slowing, her muscles relaxing. It's invigorating, like drinking ice cold water for the first time in your life.

If Alice has kept her eyes open, she'll notice a graceful, tiny flower the exact blue of her dress winding up from the grass between them, growing to about six inches and then opening petal by petal.]

[consumedpast.livejournal.com]

[guiltapalooza]

[Several more sprout up, just a few, all different shapes and colors as if coming from entirely different climates. They're indeed all physically real, and will continue to grow here after they leave as well as they're able.

Willow slowly extracts herself from the energy of the planet, blinking a little dazedly.] That's always kind of a rush. [Feeling every life force on the planet all at once and then returning to your own, tiny, single one was always an adjustment.]

[consumedpast.livejournal.com]

I can imagine, it must seem quite exhilarating.

Have you been a witch for very long, WIllow?

[guiltapalooza]

Exhilarating is a good word, [she admits, shifting in place as she adjusts to being present physically again.] Oh, um, a few years now, I guess. Mostly self-taught-- it's been a crazy ride.

[To use a sweeping generalization, of course; Willow's starting to have enough of detailing her personal life failures to everyone she comes across.]