Post by Tara Maclay on Apr 12, 2010 22:13:35 GMT -5
~*~ Tara Maclay ~*~
Tara’s first breath was painful, breathing in fire. She cried out, but her throat was too hoarse to project anything but a gurgle. She opened her eyes, but that too was painful. Bright light invaded and stung them and she shut her eyes again, turning her head reflexively. She could feel something hard beneath her and as she moved she felt terribly heavy. She lay there for a long moment, steadying her breathing, moving her fingers and her head.
Tara gasped as her eyes snapped open. She blinked until her vision cleared and she was looking up at a white ceiling. Her eyebrows creased as she looked around, turning her head. Who had said that? Where were they?
She saw a sofa and a table and as she sat up she realized she was sitting on a hard wood floor. She felt weak and her body ached. As she stood she had a peculiar feeling, as if she’d been to this place before, but she couldn’t recognize it. It was somewhere buried in her mind, but she couldn’t dig it out.
As Tara looked around, she realized she was standing in a house, and there was no one else in the room with her. The voice she heard was in her mind.
Tara cried out as pain shot through her head, stumbling against the sofa as a series of images flashed before her eyes. A mansion surrounded by palm trees. A cemetery with tall iron gates. A large Spanish style building with arches and a courtyard. A sign that read ‘Sunnydale High School.’ A street sign that read ‘Carmine Street.’ A bridge strung across the sea glowing gold in the sunlight. It vanished quickly to be replaced by another image. A road sign that read ‘San Francisco.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks as all the energy left her and she collapsed onto the floor, still conscious but terribly weak. Her head was throbbing.
Whoever or whatever was communicating with her, Tara did not feel threatened by its presence. She did not feel she was being lied to or toyed with. What she did feel was an overwhelming sense of urgency and importance.
She replied without speaking.
Yes.
Tara felt pressure all around her, very subtle at first and it got gradually more intense. And then she felt warmth and energy like electricity surging through her. Just as quickly as it had come on the pressure ceased and she felt rejuvenated. As she stood up again she felt more alert and her memories had flooded back to her. She looked around and realized quickly that she was standing in Buffy’s living room. When was the last time she’d been here? She’d been standing there talking to Willow, and then there was blood on Willow’s shirt. Why had there been blood on her shirt? And pain. Tara had felt pain in her chest.
She looked down her shirt, expecting to see a wound, but there wasn’t one. She thought for a moment. Something was very wrong here. She felt wrong. This place felt wrong.
But somehow she already knew Buffy wasn’t there. Neither was Willow. None of this was right.
I’m supposed to meet someone, she remembered. Possibly more than one someone.
But who?
She walked slowly through the house, exploring each of the rooms to make sure it was empty. Everything looked as she remembered, but something felt off. As she explored the house, she tried to remember all the locations she’d seen in her head. Sunnydale High School, a cemetery – what was the name of it? – Carmine Street – what town was that in? She sighed as her head started to pound. She went into the first floor bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet. She pulled out a bottle of Aspirin and shook two pills from the bottle. When she turned on the faucet she didn’t actually expect there to be running water. She didn’t know why. But, the water ran like it always did and she swallowed the pills with a mouthful of it. She stood there for several minutes to get her bearings before heading up to the second floor.
Tara made a beeline to the master bedroom, which she’d shared with Willow at some point, though she wasn’t sure how long it had been since then. She opened the closet to find one of her purses: a brown satchel with medium-length straps. Then she went to the wooden chest sitting against the wall and started digging through it, putting various supplies into her bag as she searched for something in particular. As she searched she was muttering to herself.
Soon she found a little spiral notebook with a butterfly on the cover and a pen hooked through the spiral binding. She pulled out the pen and flipped open the book, jotting down the locations she remembered before shoving it into her bag. She started to head downstairs, but stopped mid-way and turned back to head into Buffy’s room. She almost knocked instinctively, but stopped herself and went inside. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly, but she had a feeling she’d need some kind of weapon just in case.
She opened Buffy’s trunk and rummaged through it. It felt strange, but if this really was Buffy’s house and these were still Buffy’s things, she knew her friend would understand. She found a stake and a vial of holy water and placed them in her purse. She doubted she’d run into a vampire in the middle of the day, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Satisfied, she headed back downstairs and stepped carefully out the front door.
If there was anywhere on the planet Tara felt safe, it was the Magic Box. There was definitely something strange going on, and she needed to go somewhere and sort out her thoughts. She was relieved to find the magic shop standing just where it should have been. She quickened her steps and for a few terrifying seconds thought of the possibility that the door would be locked.
The door opened easily, a bell sounding to signal her arrival. She poked her head in and looked around. The place was fully stocked, but looked deserted and dusty. She frowned.
Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again.
Silence greeted her. That was strange. Tara stepped inside and closed the door behind her before moving cautiously through the shop. Somehow, she knew there was no one there. She didn’t know how, but she knew she was alone the same way she’d known she was alone in Buffy’s house.
Tara headed for one of the round wooden tables in the main part of the shop and sat down. She dug her notebook and pen out of her bag before hooking the straps onto the back of the chair so the bag hung beside her. She opened the notebook to where she’d hastily written four locations. She drew out a chart with four columns: Sunnydale High, Cemetery (?), Carmine Street, San Francisco.
She knew these places were important, even though she didn’t know exactly why, and she knew there was at least one person she was supposed to help. The only thing she could think of to do was figure out what she did know about these places and go from there. She sat there concentrating and began making lists.
((OOC: We do have a vague plot in mind for this thread, but if you'd like to join, PM me on my Connor account and let me know!))
Tara’s first breath was painful, breathing in fire. She cried out, but her throat was too hoarse to project anything but a gurgle. She opened her eyes, but that too was painful. Bright light invaded and stung them and she shut her eyes again, turning her head reflexively. She could feel something hard beneath her and as she moved she felt terribly heavy. She lay there for a long moment, steadying her breathing, moving her fingers and her head.
“You need to move quickly.”
Tara gasped as her eyes snapped open. She blinked until her vision cleared and she was looking up at a white ceiling. Her eyebrows creased as she looked around, turning her head. Who had said that? Where were they?
She saw a sofa and a table and as she sat up she realized she was sitting on a hard wood floor. She felt weak and her body ached. As she stood she had a peculiar feeling, as if she’d been to this place before, but she couldn’t recognize it. It was somewhere buried in her mind, but she couldn’t dig it out.
“Others will arrive soon. Some will be familiar, and some will not.”
As Tara looked around, she realized she was standing in a house, and there was no one else in the room with her. The voice she heard was in her mind.
“We have sent you here to help these people. You have always been a voice of reason and a source of comfort for those around you. You must continue to do that here.”
Tara cried out as pain shot through her head, stumbling against the sofa as a series of images flashed before her eyes. A mansion surrounded by palm trees. A cemetery with tall iron gates. A large Spanish style building with arches and a courtyard. A sign that read ‘Sunnydale High School.’ A street sign that read ‘Carmine Street.’ A bridge strung across the sea glowing gold in the sunlight. It vanished quickly to be replaced by another image. A road sign that read ‘San Francisco.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks as all the energy left her and she collapsed onto the floor, still conscious but terribly weak. Her head was throbbing.
“You have a long and trying journey ahead of you, Tara, but it is necessary. First, we must give you a gift. This gift is not to be abused and it will come with a price, but you must receive it in order to continue. Will you accept it?”
Whoever or whatever was communicating with her, Tara did not feel threatened by its presence. She did not feel she was being lied to or toyed with. What she did feel was an overwhelming sense of urgency and importance.
She replied without speaking.
Yes.
Tara felt pressure all around her, very subtle at first and it got gradually more intense. And then she felt warmth and energy like electricity surging through her. Just as quickly as it had come on the pressure ceased and she felt rejuvenated. As she stood up again she felt more alert and her memories had flooded back to her. She looked around and realized quickly that she was standing in Buffy’s living room. When was the last time she’d been here? She’d been standing there talking to Willow, and then there was blood on Willow’s shirt. Why had there been blood on her shirt? And pain. Tara had felt pain in her chest.
“Oh my God…”
She looked down her shirt, expecting to see a wound, but there wasn’t one. She thought for a moment. Something was very wrong here. She felt wrong. This place felt wrong.
“B-buffy?” she called.
But somehow she already knew Buffy wasn’t there. Neither was Willow. None of this was right.
I’m supposed to meet someone, she remembered. Possibly more than one someone.
But who?
She walked slowly through the house, exploring each of the rooms to make sure it was empty. Everything looked as she remembered, but something felt off. As she explored the house, she tried to remember all the locations she’d seen in her head. Sunnydale High School, a cemetery – what was the name of it? – Carmine Street – what town was that in? She sighed as her head started to pound. She went into the first floor bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet. She pulled out a bottle of Aspirin and shook two pills from the bottle. When she turned on the faucet she didn’t actually expect there to be running water. She didn’t know why. But, the water ran like it always did and she swallowed the pills with a mouthful of it. She stood there for several minutes to get her bearings before heading up to the second floor.
Tara made a beeline to the master bedroom, which she’d shared with Willow at some point, though she wasn’t sure how long it had been since then. She opened the closet to find one of her purses: a brown satchel with medium-length straps. Then she went to the wooden chest sitting against the wall and started digging through it, putting various supplies into her bag as she searched for something in particular. As she searched she was muttering to herself.
“Sunnydale High, Cemetery, Carmine Street, San Francisco… Sunnydale High, Cemetery, Carmine Street, San Francisco…”
Soon she found a little spiral notebook with a butterfly on the cover and a pen hooked through the spiral binding. She pulled out the pen and flipped open the book, jotting down the locations she remembered before shoving it into her bag. She started to head downstairs, but stopped mid-way and turned back to head into Buffy’s room. She almost knocked instinctively, but stopped herself and went inside. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly, but she had a feeling she’d need some kind of weapon just in case.
She opened Buffy’s trunk and rummaged through it. It felt strange, but if this really was Buffy’s house and these were still Buffy’s things, she knew her friend would understand. She found a stake and a vial of holy water and placed them in her purse. She doubted she’d run into a vampire in the middle of the day, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Satisfied, she headed back downstairs and stepped carefully out the front door.
-+-
If there was anywhere on the planet Tara felt safe, it was the Magic Box. There was definitely something strange going on, and she needed to go somewhere and sort out her thoughts. She was relieved to find the magic shop standing just where it should have been. She quickened her steps and for a few terrifying seconds thought of the possibility that the door would be locked.
The door opened easily, a bell sounding to signal her arrival. She poked her head in and looked around. The place was fully stocked, but looked deserted and dusty. She frowned.
“H-hello?”
Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Hello?”
Silence greeted her. That was strange. Tara stepped inside and closed the door behind her before moving cautiously through the shop. Somehow, she knew there was no one there. She didn’t know how, but she knew she was alone the same way she’d known she was alone in Buffy’s house.
Tara headed for one of the round wooden tables in the main part of the shop and sat down. She dug her notebook and pen out of her bag before hooking the straps onto the back of the chair so the bag hung beside her. She opened the notebook to where she’d hastily written four locations. She drew out a chart with four columns: Sunnydale High, Cemetery (?), Carmine Street, San Francisco.
She knew these places were important, even though she didn’t know exactly why, and she knew there was at least one person she was supposed to help. The only thing she could think of to do was figure out what she did know about these places and go from there. She sat there concentrating and began making lists.
-+-
((OOC: We do have a vague plot in mind for this thread, but if you'd like to join, PM me on my Connor account and let me know!))
