002: When She Was Bad [Accidental Visual / Location: Outside the Castle]
“There was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead ...”
The nursery rhyme was familiar enough, to the right ears, but Drusilla sang it to a tune that was all her own. In her opinion, music was a wild thing, a natural thing. It slithered and meandered in all directions, and telling it how it was supposed to sound would only spoil the fun.
It was night time. Although the vampire understood that the artificial Taxon sun wouldn’t make her sizzle, some habits - like walking in the shadows and watching the Slayer and talking to the pixies - were hard to break. Her melody - not unpleasant, but, at the same time, not quite right - was one of the few things still alight in the darkness. She couldn’t get used to a city that actually slept at night. Sunnydale had only really lived after midnight. All the interesting people hide away during the day.
She missed the cemetery.
“… when she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid ...”
Oblivious to the attentions of the tablet, the vampire continued to sing softly to herself as she made use of the hatch. Under Drusilla’s surprisingly critical eye, a doll - blonde curls and a pretty pink dress and vacant eyes - began to take form. She lifted it out tenderly, a proud mother … then tossed it aside just as suddenly, eyes flashing with fury.
The doll - just an ‘it’, not a ‘she’ - hit the pile with a thump. There were six or seven similar dolls at Drusilla’s feet. To the untrained eye, they were all identical. To Drusilla, however, they were as wrong as the wires in the head or the soul in the Angel Beast’s chest.
She was looking for Miss Edith, but she hadn’t found her yet.
OOC: My slow-atus turned into more of a hiatus, but I'm easing off it now. Don’t forget to me know if I’ve missed anything or if you need me for everything!
The nursery rhyme was familiar enough, to the right ears, but Drusilla sang it to a tune that was all her own. In her opinion, music was a wild thing, a natural thing. It slithered and meandered in all directions, and telling it how it was supposed to sound would only spoil the fun.
It was night time. Although the vampire understood that the artificial Taxon sun wouldn’t make her sizzle, some habits - like walking in the shadows and watching the Slayer and talking to the pixies - were hard to break. Her melody - not unpleasant, but, at the same time, not quite right - was one of the few things still alight in the darkness. She couldn’t get used to a city that actually slept at night. Sunnydale had only really lived after midnight. All the interesting people hide away during the day.
She missed the cemetery.
“… when she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid ...”
Oblivious to the attentions of the tablet, the vampire continued to sing softly to herself as she made use of the hatch. Under Drusilla’s surprisingly critical eye, a doll - blonde curls and a pretty pink dress and vacant eyes - began to take form. She lifted it out tenderly, a proud mother … then tossed it aside just as suddenly, eyes flashing with fury.
The doll - just an ‘it’, not a ‘she’ - hit the pile with a thump. There were six or seven similar dolls at Drusilla’s feet. To the untrained eye, they were all identical. To Drusilla, however, they were as wrong as the wires in the head or the soul in the Angel Beast’s chest.
She was looking for Miss Edith, but she hadn’t found her yet.
OOC: My slow-atus turned into more of a hiatus, but I'm easing off it now. Don’t forget to me know if I’ve missed anything or if you need me for everything!