no subject

[whattingawhat]

It's an average, normal sort of day for Buffy. Late morning finds her at the gym going through what is clearly a routine for her. She starts with yoga then proceeds to pummeling a training dummy. Once she's exhausted from that, she heads back toward her room and showers.

The afternoon will find her stopping at the Bistro for a latte and a bite to eat. From there, she begins patrol, otherwise known as security and her job at the hotel. She's forgone carrying the scythe simply because it scares people and she's found little reason to need her scythe in the halls of the hotel. She saves it for suspect doors.

Overall, her manner is unhurried, content. Buffy has settled in here; Dawn is doing well and Buffy can pop through the door to her San Francisco any time she'd like. The hotel is a welcome reprieve, a little bit of welcomed boring and a fresh start all at once.

no subject

[namesgiven]

The humid air of the greenhouse was not what Vanessa was expecting to greet her. She paused just inside the threshold, hand still poised on the door. She kept expecting the rush of cold air and falling snow to hit her, but the scene in front of her was unwavering.

Fear mounted inside of her momentarily. A greenhouse -- a place that seemed pivotal now in the recounting of what had happened in the last few weeks. But this certainly wasn't the greenhouse she had been to previously. It was smaller for one, and while she expected the atmosphere to be tinged with malevolence, it wasn't. It was simply unfamiliar. Every inch of it. So much so that it was actually a curiosity. She let her hand leave the door and she continued on inside, ignoring how the heated and damp air made the collar of her dress stick uncomfortably to her skin.

This was London. That was the first thing the flowers told her, even though they were all from places far off. They whispered that they were not only from London, but this place was not home, was not London. There were flowers and plants she had never seen before and were quite unlike anything she had seen before. She paused at the sight of each one, letting her mind fixate only momentarily, fingers brushing the air near where leaves were.

No, this wasn't home, but that didn't explain how she had come to be here or how she had arrived.

Vanessa glanced up and around for another moment, and then, disregarding that she was in public, pulled out her worn pack of tarot cards. In such a strange moment, this action seemed allowed. She began to shuffle them slowly and then place them on a wider ledge, close enough that they nearly brushed the dirt.