![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sunnyd-lite.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: Applied Psychology
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: Buffy Sn 4 & Sn 5
Prompt: week 205 Aboulia
Word Count: 785
A/N: Revised!
Willow stared intently at her friend who was just sitting. Buffy never just sat. She tapped. She wiggled. She sometimes doodled. Clearly this wasn't Buffy. This wasn't even an evil Buffy, but all Willow could think about was they had no time for this. She paced the room in a half circle, never taking her eyes of the statue still Slayer.
Not the sympathy a BFF should be giving. Sympathy was running low as once more the Scoobies were being hurt by a Buffy phenomenon. The end of the world, again.
"How's it looking?" Xander quietly entered the living room with a mug of the tea she'd requested. Part of Willow wanted to rant at him. To scream that Tara had been hurt, that little Dawnie, the key to universal destruction, had been kidnapped. That Giles should be hospitalized and that their superhero Slayer was staring at nothing. A lot.
Instead she reached for the mug and let its warmth seep through her like the herbs were seeping into the water. Calm. A leader had to be calm. And she was the only one left to lead.
"Nothing is physically wrong, so that's good." Willow took a sip, trying to pull her frantic energy into something as focused, and useful, as a laser. Xander had approached their friend and lifted her arm. It flopped back down as soon as he let go.
"You sure? This is not normal. Very not normal. And it would be more fun if she was pose-able."
Despite his words, Willow smiled at the care he took in wrapping a blanket around the non-responsive girl. Something about the words tugged at a memory. Studying for psychology...
"You know, kinda thought the abnormal part of psychology would be more interesting."
They were both in their room, supposedly studying. But Buffy kept interrupting Willow's concentration. Willow tried to focus on her book but could hear Buffy wiggling on the bed.
"Given that not normal is my world," she continued.
"I think it's fascinating." Willow kept her answer clipped. Buffy still hadn't apologised for destroying her favorite sweater, well her sixth favorite one. Or rather she hadn't apologised for borrowing in on patrol. Willow had to admit even Giles hadn't expected the Dm'ask lizards to react so strongly to manmade fibers of the faux mo-hair. Their mucus ate through the sweater like acid. But being roomies didn't mean ignoring all personal boundaries like Willow's preference for silent studying, unless she was tutoring.
"Sure the actual conditions are intriguing, but this learning style?" Buffy tilted her head in what looked like a bid for sympathy. "Wils you know how I suck at memorization." Running her finger down the page of the heavy textbook, Buffy started reciting in a singsong voice, "We've got lists: Adjustment Disorders, Anxiety Disorders, Disassociate Disorders, Disorders of Diminished Motivation." There was a pause and Willow could feel her look. "Wow just reading that last one is enough to diminish my motivation."
Willow tried to bite down on the smile that threatened. It was just so Buffy, everything went back to her. Her brain, unhelpfully, added tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral . She wanted to talk about this chapter. Of course Willow first read through the DSM-III-R in grade school; benefits of having a mother who was a psychologist.
Buffy was still talking. "And then the lists have lists. How do you even say this one? It's all vowels. A*booo*ulia. Did I mention that lists go in one ear and out my other?"
Visions of high school study sessions flipped through her brain. Demons were fine; Buffy's true nemesis was regurgitating material. "I may have witnessed that effect once or twice." Another of her mother's books came to mind. "I think it's because you're a kinesthetic learner. Me, I'm visual all the way, so lists like me."
"Hmm visual? Is that why you like looking at the cuties?" Buffy easily deflected the expected pillow. Willow didn't mind, she'd caved again but they were back to normal. Life was good.
"Aboulia," she whispered.
"Aboo what?" The echo of Buffy's pronunciation almost brought her to tears.
"Diminished motivation. I think she'd just given up. Hopefully I'm wrong and it's a fugue state. There's something I can do about a fugue state." But this had gotten her thinking, not just reacting. Impulsively she leaned over and gave Xander a tight hug.
His arms automatically wrapped around her. "Nothing against Willowhugs, but what was that for?"
"Helping."
It left him puzzled, but she now had the pieces she needed. Buffy might want to hide from the world, but that wasn't an option. It was up to Willow to get her home.
Author: Sunnyd_lite
Fandom: Buffy Sn 4 & Sn 5
Prompt: week 205 Aboulia
Word Count: 785
A/N: Revised!
Willow stared intently at her friend who was just sitting. Buffy never just sat. She tapped. She wiggled. She sometimes doodled. Clearly this wasn't Buffy. This wasn't even an evil Buffy, but all Willow could think about was they had no time for this. She paced the room in a half circle, never taking her eyes of the statue still Slayer.
Not the sympathy a BFF should be giving. Sympathy was running low as once more the Scoobies were being hurt by a Buffy phenomenon. The end of the world, again.
"How's it looking?" Xander quietly entered the living room with a mug of the tea she'd requested. Part of Willow wanted to rant at him. To scream that Tara had been hurt, that little Dawnie, the key to universal destruction, had been kidnapped. That Giles should be hospitalized and that their superhero Slayer was staring at nothing. A lot.
Instead she reached for the mug and let its warmth seep through her like the herbs were seeping into the water. Calm. A leader had to be calm. And she was the only one left to lead.
"Nothing is physically wrong, so that's good." Willow took a sip, trying to pull her frantic energy into something as focused, and useful, as a laser. Xander had approached their friend and lifted her arm. It flopped back down as soon as he let go.
"You sure? This is not normal. Very not normal. And it would be more fun if she was pose-able."
Despite his words, Willow smiled at the care he took in wrapping a blanket around the non-responsive girl. Something about the words tugged at a memory. Studying for psychology...
"You know, kinda thought the abnormal part of psychology would be more interesting."
They were both in their room, supposedly studying. But Buffy kept interrupting Willow's concentration. Willow tried to focus on her book but could hear Buffy wiggling on the bed.
"Given that not normal is my world," she continued.
"I think it's fascinating." Willow kept her answer clipped. Buffy still hadn't apologised for destroying her favorite sweater, well her sixth favorite one. Or rather she hadn't apologised for borrowing in on patrol. Willow had to admit even Giles hadn't expected the Dm'ask lizards to react so strongly to manmade fibers of the faux mo-hair. Their mucus ate through the sweater like acid. But being roomies didn't mean ignoring all personal boundaries like Willow's preference for silent studying, unless she was tutoring.
"Sure the actual conditions are intriguing, but this learning style?" Buffy tilted her head in what looked like a bid for sympathy. "Wils you know how I suck at memorization." Running her finger down the page of the heavy textbook, Buffy started reciting in a singsong voice, "We've got lists: Adjustment Disorders, Anxiety Disorders, Disassociate Disorders, Disorders of Diminished Motivation." There was a pause and Willow could feel her look. "Wow just reading that last one is enough to diminish my motivation."
Willow tried to bite down on the smile that threatened. It was just so Buffy, everything went back to her. Her brain, unhelpfully, added tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral . She wanted to talk about this chapter. Of course Willow first read through the DSM-III-R in grade school; benefits of having a mother who was a psychologist.
Buffy was still talking. "And then the lists have lists. How do you even say this one? It's all vowels. A*booo*ulia. Did I mention that lists go in one ear and out my other?"
Visions of high school study sessions flipped through her brain. Demons were fine; Buffy's true nemesis was regurgitating material. "I may have witnessed that effect once or twice." Another of her mother's books came to mind. "I think it's because you're a kinesthetic learner. Me, I'm visual all the way, so lists like me."
"Hmm visual? Is that why you like looking at the cuties?" Buffy easily deflected the expected pillow. Willow didn't mind, she'd caved again but they were back to normal. Life was good.
"Aboulia," she whispered.
"Aboo what?" The echo of Buffy's pronunciation almost brought her to tears.
"Diminished motivation. I think she'd just given up. Hopefully I'm wrong and it's a fugue state. There's something I can do about a fugue state." But this had gotten her thinking, not just reacting. Impulsively she leaned over and gave Xander a tight hug.
His arms automatically wrapped around her. "Nothing against Willowhugs, but what was that for?"
"Helping."
It left him puzzled, but she now had the pieces she needed. Buffy might want to hide from the world, but that wasn't an option. It was up to Willow to get her home.
