Drabbletag: B:tVS - Drusilla/vampire Willow
Title: Shapes of Sunnydale
Prompt: 'Stories', by amazon_syren
Fandom: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Drusilla/vampire Willow
Count de Worde: 250
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Set, clearly, in the AU created by Cordelia not having read enough genie stories.
Sunnydale was the happening place. It was murmured on bloody lips on street corners, giggled behind bars (she liked the hidden nooks in and around bars - curling smoke writing second meanings around the putrid poetry on the walls, the slit eyes and cartoon cocks - they reminded her of William). Drusilla followed the whispers, curious, making her way slowly towards the center of the world, the fanged mouth of Mother Earth.
They were all connected, all family in evil, and she could feel the change as she drove down the highway. Swirls became rectangles, dream-snakes turned stiff as boards. She didn't like it, even as she sensed the heady rush of concentrated gluttony. Rivers of blood dreams, a sweet red flow down her throat, her every wish fulfilled.
But it was wrong. It didn't fit her.
She parked outside the city and stood drinking in the edged power, sharp and uncomfortable, letting it bury into her; like swallowing a box.
'Hello there, pretty one,' says a voice, soft and coquettish, and she turns to face a young guardian with a smile. A skinny red-head - a glutton - it's in her eyes. The girl runs a metal claw over her lower lip with an answering smile, and Drusilla finds the rectangles soften back into curls, if only for a while.
'Wanna play?'
Why yes.
There are many ways to gorge, and they say Sunnydale offers them all. It was not a place to live in - but she's already beginning to like the visit.
Prompt: 'Stories', by amazon_syren
Fandom: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Drusilla/vampire Willow
Count de Worde: 250
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Set, clearly, in the AU created by Cordelia not having read enough genie stories.
Sunnydale was the happening place. It was murmured on bloody lips on street corners, giggled behind bars (she liked the hidden nooks in and around bars - curling smoke writing second meanings around the putrid poetry on the walls, the slit eyes and cartoon cocks - they reminded her of William). Drusilla followed the whispers, curious, making her way slowly towards the center of the world, the fanged mouth of Mother Earth.
They were all connected, all family in evil, and she could feel the change as she drove down the highway. Swirls became rectangles, dream-snakes turned stiff as boards. She didn't like it, even as she sensed the heady rush of concentrated gluttony. Rivers of blood dreams, a sweet red flow down her throat, her every wish fulfilled.
But it was wrong. It didn't fit her.
She parked outside the city and stood drinking in the edged power, sharp and uncomfortable, letting it bury into her; like swallowing a box.
'Hello there, pretty one,' says a voice, soft and coquettish, and she turns to face a young guardian with a smile. A skinny red-head - a glutton - it's in her eyes. The girl runs a metal claw over her lower lip with an answering smile, and Drusilla finds the rectangles soften back into curls, if only for a while.
'Wanna play?'
Why yes.
There are many ways to gorge, and they say Sunnydale offers them all. It was not a place to live in - but she's already beginning to like the visit.