CLOSED ♔ don't know what the country's coming to

[behindcloseddoors]

♬ on an evening in roma - dean martin

WHO || Rafael, Des, Buffy, their best pal in the world
WHAT || An unexpected incident
WHERE || Rome
WHEN || June 7th, 2014
HOW || Actionspam. Single thread.

Who knows how long unconsciousness has them all swallowed in its grip. But when it finally allows them to resurface, they'd notice the smooth motion of a car indicating they're... still riding in a vehicle. A wis check of 14+ might recognize it's a different limo, however, and it doesn't take a wisdom check to recognize that they are all crammed together on the same side of the seat now. With... hands cuffed to the seat between their legs.

Across from them, a large figure sits grinning manically... wearing a familiar gray cassock. Oh hi. :)

A single glance out the window at the bustling city outside is enough to recognize that is sure as shit ain't London. And Anderson will be quick to clear that up for y'all, waving one hand at the view.

"Well, now. I hope you all enjoyed your rest. Let me be the first t'bid ye welcome... to Rome."

Comments

[romanticidal]

[ rafael closes his eyes, and lets the photograph fall from his hand back into the rubble. buffy manages to find some intact handguns where the kitchen once was. ]

There is nothing left for me, here.

[nothingsodivine]

[des blows his hair out of his face.]

Maybe it's a sign. A fresh start. A new beginning. I dunno.

[a sigh] But mourning won't bring Tara back, Fluffy. C'mon. We still have to get out of Italy.

[slay]

[ buffy grabs the guns and passes des on her way to walk over towards rafael, hesitating beside des to note, gently: ] Rein it in or give us a minute.

[ if you can't be comforting, gO WAIT IN THE CAR. we are not on your schedule, bro. she doesn't linger long, but rather keeps moving to where rafael stands with closed eyes. she doesn't touch him (you can decide for yourself if that's just bc her hands are full WITH GUNS), just comes up to stand beside him. ]

Here, maybe. [ she turns away from the ruin to look up at him. ] But I know Isabella's worried sick right now. [ so he hasn't lost everything he knew before they came and uprooted his life. some things remain—people. even if jade isn't one of them. ]

[romanticidal]

Likely, yes. [ he glances at her briefly ] We should a place to stay for a few hours. We all need the rest. A hotel that will take cash.

[nothingsodivine]

[ALL RIGHT FINE. Des can see where his... horrible brand of support isn't wanted. He heaves another sigh and starts walking back to the car.]

[slay]

Hey, no argument here. I'm running on empty. I just ... [ she presses her lips together a moment, straining to find the right thing to say. ] If you need time, we don't have to rush. [ it's been one thing after another today: she will understand if he needs to just stand here and process or cry or anything. ]

[romanticidal]

No. [ he turns, looking at the guns in her hands and frowning deeply, before moving past her ] What I need is not time.

[slay]

[ when he walks past, it takes a moment to truly process. since the very beginning, he’s opened up to her. she knows him inside and out, better than anyone, and whenever things hit the fan, she’s there for it. there to hear the uncertainty or panic, or how lost he is.

this time, it feels a lot like getting brushed aside.

as that feeling sinks into her bones, she turns on her heels and calls after him. ]

I don’t think you’re a monster.

[ a long beat follows. it’s been hours now, time enough for her to reflect and process—it needs to be said. he’s done horrible things—right now, she’s worried he might do them again, but she doesn’t see evil in that. all she can see is pain, coming out however it can. the kind of pain caused by days like this one. ]

I think you’re lost. [ he has been all this time, and it’s only getting worse. ] But you are never gonna find your way out of the darkness if you hold it in and hide. Please don’t try to carry this alone. [ her tone softens on the last note, biting back a final request—let me in. ]

[romanticidal]

[ he stops at her words, and turns around again to stare at her for a long moment. as always, it's so difficult to tell what he's feeling exactly, but he doesn't look away.

finally, he says: ] When you go back to England, I would like to go with you, rather than return to Chicago directly. To the Knights.

[nothingsodivine]

[DES HEARD THAT (listen 27 HOW THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE ELF EARS). His head shoots up, but he doesn't say anything.

He's going to be the last person not with the knights, apparently.]

[slay]

[ any vestiges of control held over her expressions shake loose, and buffy’s eyes widen. air siphons straight out of her lungs and she feels fully and entirely drained in that moment—indefensible. opening herself to the good means allowing the bad to sink in as well, and the brunt of the past twenty-four hours hits her all at once, but as tears burn in her eyes, she finds it in herself to smile through the empathy-driven despair.

in that moment, she wants nothing more than to drop the guns on the floor and run for him, to close the distance and throw her arms around him and cry it out because they’ll get through it just like they promised. that doesn’t come so easily, though, and she simply nods instead, empathically. ]

Okay. [ the word is breathless, and she takes a final nod to steady herself. ] Okay. We’ll go back together. [ after lingering for a moment longer, she pushes forward to join him in his path back to the car. ]

[romanticidal]

[ he can't muster up a smile of his own, but he nods to her, and walks in silence beside her back to the car, where he slips into the driver's seat again and starts it up. ]

[nothingsodivine]

[Des stares at Buffy, conveying through their incredibly gay psychic bond that he is shocked as hell that this happened.

He shakes it off and climbs into the backseat. Look, he's keeping his mouth shut and his anti-knight sentiments to himself. Yay.]

[slay]

[ #nohomo but she feels u.

and climbs into the front seat. she will spend this drive attempting to fit two handguns into one sportscar's glove compartment. ]