"Leave a message. I'll get back to you when I can."


[for muse & mun]

AS OF 20TH NOVEMBER 2010, ALL SCENES AND RP FOR TENDER TRAP WILL BE POSTED TO masquesamour.

This is Airlie's only current verse, so most of her entries will now be on that community.

[Follows THIS]

Riley was more than aware of the fact that there was no way to make his workplace any less intimidating. It was supposed to be that way. It was a military thing. At least not everyone was walking around in camos. Even now, he was only in a pair of dark jeans and a grey t-shirt. He had to change after he had sweated so much the clothes he arrived to base in were making him not very pleasant to be around. In fact, even Graham told him to take a shower, and that was saying something considering they all got more than sweaty and gross during operations. He hadn't just showered, he ended up going to the infirmary to get some meds to make him feel better and after a run of IV fluids to get his hydration back up, he was feeling a little better. He had stopped puking for the time being which was a plus as far as he was concerned. The fever was still there, and the upset stomach, but he could handle that if he didn't have to bolt to the bathroom all the time.

Now he was standing in his office, looking out the window at the Paris city centre way in the far distance. They were on the outskirts so they didn't attract a huge amount of attention to themselves. In fact, like the school back in Sunnydale concealing the Initiative, this place was commonly thought of as a testing facility of some sort. That worked. Not true, but it worked. Behind him, Buffy was sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. They were waiting for Xander to arrive with Rory's best mate. Airlie MacKenzie. A Kindred, according to Blaise. The thing was, neither Blaise nor Riley actually knew that Buffy was oblivious to that fact. Things could be about to get extremely messy.

( Airlie was numb. She could hardly think straight. It had gotten to the point that Xander was basically just leading her to where she needed to go and she just had to make sure her feet worked...Collapse )


Word Count | 5,605

9.3. "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."
Oscar Wilde

Co-written with actuallybye

Airlie was sitting on Rory's bed in her duck pyjamas, red hair piled up in a messy ponytail on top of her head, and Wee Willy curled up in a ball in her lap as she watched reruns of Sex and the City on the crappy little TV at the end of the bed. She had been keenly interested in watching, until she realised that when she last watched it, she had been a normal human with normal feelings who could eat normal chocolate and have normal PMS that allowed her to commiserate and watch stupid TV shows like this. All it did was make her feel more depressed, and more hungry. She had shamefully resorted to feeding on the odd tourist in town to see the Palace, and only stuck to burly men who she could flirt with enough to get into her good graces and who looked like they could tolerate a bit of blood loss. She had been depressed before Rory even left for Paris, but had managed to fall into an even bigger funk without him around to commiserate. She damn well hoped the Slayer was in horrific and soul-ripping emotional distress, or Airlie would be even more pissed off at her for taking her best friend away from her.

( She knew she wasn't really pissed off with Buffy, though. It was just projection because Buffy was Xander's friend, and Xander was... AWOL. MIA. All of those acronyms that meant buggered off into oblivion...Collapse )


Word Count | 5,183

8.5. "You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you have to go back to the beginning."
The Tudors

Co-written with actuallybye

Xander Harris was not cool. He knew it, and he had embraced it years ago. He was comfortable with his geekiness. He was comfortable with the fact he had owned a Hawaiian shirt and not a red silk one. He was even comfortable that he had no idea who Edward Cullen was. As far as he was concerned, it was enough to know that even Buffy didn't feel particularly drawn to that vampire - fictional, or not. He had always preferred comics and comfort over attempting to squeeze himself into leather pants.

So when he decided to check out the club Airlie played at, he'd quizzed Buffy extensively over what it was like. Even if it meant digging her out a sudden malaise she was getting lost in. He got the fact that the Frenchman had left, but he couldn't see why Buffy was so down about it when she hadn't even gotten together with him. Xander had had foreplay with Airlie. There had been an intent to have sex on both sides. Then he'd gotten sick and had a fight with her. Xander had more right to brood than Buffy.

( It had made his heart sink to find out the club was Gothic, and no doubt filled with cool Scots that Xander would stand out in...Collapse )


Word Count | 6,664

8.1. "Each betrayal begins with trust."
Phish

Co-written with naysowee
[Follows THIS and THIS | Simultaneous to THIS]

Rory stood in the middle of his living room that now looked much like a bomb had just hit it. Not a bomb, however. Just a vampire in a rage that could only be tamed when she reigned her own emotions back in. It was pointless for Rory to even try or he could have gotten hurt. Instead, he had just let her get through it, knowing that waiting it out would be the best thing in that situation. He couldn’t even get clear answers out of her beyond the fact that Xander and Buffy were involved on some level. Whatever it was, Airlie was extremely upset and Rory hadn’t seen her like this is a long time.

( Now she seemed to have calmed down a little, standing by his mantle, breathless as she pushed her fiery red and now dishevelled hair out of her face...Collapse )


Word Count | 1,836

Co-written with Xander [actuallybye]
[Follows THIS]

Xander was fighting that moment where his brain was trying to wake up and the rest of him wanted to stay asleep. He even mumbled something in protest - or perhaps something more to do with the giant hot dog chasing him in his sleep - and would have rolled over if he didn't slowly realise he was very nicely tucked up behind a warm body. A warm, soft, female body. The night before was starting to come back to him, and this time Xander didn't fight waking up so he could crack open his eye and check to make sure there was flaming red hair right in front of him.

There was.

He could remember the foreplay vividly, but everything after that seemed to just... fade. Maybe he'd lost himself in a haze of lustiness and the sex had been so good, he'd already forgotten it? It could happen, right? But he was sure if he had sex with Airlie, he would have remembered. He would have taken mental images and wanted to memorise every second because she was amazing, and sexy, and Scottish, and she wanted him.

( Xander frowned just a little as he tried to force himself to remember the rest of the night, but all he got was the before...Collapse )


Word Count | 6,372

Paper cuts. They seemed to simple, yet hurt like a bitch, really. Only, once upon a time, they just simple meant they hurt like a bitch, and you whine about it a bit because they did hurt, if there was anyone around to listen. Only these days, Rory had come to learn that a paper cut could actually mean you were about to be someone's random snack. He was sitting on his front steps, sketch pads and oil pants strewn out all around him as he worked on a painting of Linlithgow Palace with the loch stretching behind it... the amazing view he had from his modest little cottage in the small village. On the step below, he also had a large artists book with his latest drawings in it for the next edition of Lachie the Scottish Leprechaun, a cute little children's book series a good friend of his wrote that was now a number one bestseller in Britain, Ireland, and Europe. Rory had been illustrating the little story books from the first one ever published and now it was basically the biggest source of his income. He kept his job at the hospital as a wardsman two days a week because he just enjoyed it and had a lot of friends there, but truth was, he didn't actually need a day job with how much he earned from his art with these books and sideline commission of painting Scottish features and landscapes for tourists.

( He wasn't alone that evening, though, despite being wrapped up in his work...Collapse )


Word Count | 6,587