the space in between.

[wield]

[ First came denial. She refused to believe he was gone--no, he had to have moved. There was no way he was gone. With the castle changing things up, he had to be around somewhere, a different floor. Maybe into the town? She must have wandered the streets of the town and scanned floors looking for his name plate or a sign of his existence a dozen times before allowing herself to stop in front of where his name once stood. Her brows lowered and her heart raced as she reached for the handle only to open the door into an empty room, and that was all it took. Buffy didn't even bother walking in, peering from beyond the door frame was enough. ]

He's gone. Angel... he's gone.

[ Hours later, her voice, angry, sad, and defeated all in the same, came across the journal. Cold hands were shoved into her coat pockets as she stood on the roof, seemingly staring off into the woods, but to her it was really nothing. She's kind of in her own little world right now, so she probably won't respond via journal. ]

Comments

[spiritusaequitas]

[not that Murphy understands this place yet, by any means, but he knows grief when he hears it. he tugs the journal into his lap and speaks up softly]

I'm sorry.

[wield]

It happens.

[spiritusaequitas]

Aye, that it does. [it doesn't matter that he's not entirely sure what "it" is. everything happens, especially the kind of shite that makes people sound like she did]

But then other stuff happens, too, so ... it'll even out. One way or t'other.

[wield]

That's one way of looking at it.

[spiritusaequitas]

Well, what else're you gonna do? Place like this, not much, I figure. I'm still tryin' to get my feet under me, m'self.