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tamingthemuseTitle: In a Corner of My Soul
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: 535 - Sandy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 907
Note: Locked to members of Taming the Muse
Buffy had been on time for once. Well, almost on time. She’d been only fifteen minutes late which, given how late Buffy usually ran in the morning, was nothing short of miraculous. Giles had set her to meditating and had then vanished into his office. He found if he remained he provided a distraction as in someone she could badger with questions and terminably dull chatter. When he stepped back into the main room of the library, his tea, freshly brewed, steaming from its cup, he found she’d actually slipped into a meditative trance. Finally! He’d never heard of any Slayer taking so long to pick up the technique. He’d have to take care, move quietly, but if he were successful he’d finally learn the location of the Scythe.
Giles placed his cup gently on the counter, eyes on Buffy, looking for any sign of wakefulness. Before he could return to his office for the spell components, the library door flew open. “Mr. Giles Principal Snyder wants to see you. Oh, um, oops. Sorry.”
As Buffy startled out of her trance, Kris Mansfield, Snyder’s administrative assistant, shook her sandy curles and stared as if wondering why Buffy was sitting atop the big table. Not that she’d ask. She’d been a Potential herself and knew better than to interfere with Council business. Still, Giles wished her to the seventh circle of Hell. He’d been so close to finally locating the Scythe.
“Can’t it wait?”
“He’s insisting he has to see you now.” Giles nodded his acquiescence and Kris took her delightfully distracting curves back to her office.
He turned to Buffy who’d started in on whatever sugary caffeinated drink she’d brought to homeroom. There’d be no getting her into trance again that morning. “Hopefully this won’t take long. You were doing well. Please don’t allow Miss Mansfield’s interruption to hinder your practice.”
Buffy dropped the cup from her lips. “Huh?”
Gods. “Perhaps you could continue meditating while I’m gone.”
“Oh, uh, sure,” she replied as she burrowed through her purse.
And so Giles wasn’t in the best of moods as he strode into the outer office. Kris looked up but dropped her eyes as she asked him to sit. “He’ll be with you momentarily.” Giles fumed as the tiny, tin pot of a dictator made him wait. The man was obviously doing this on purpose, so insecure that he had to act the alpha.
“Miss Mansfield?” The shrill voice called from the inner office. “Send him in.”
Giles took the offered seat and stared up at Snyder. The man, standing, wasn’t much taller than Giles seated. As Giles sat up taller in his chair, Snyder glared at him as if blaming Giles for his own shortcomings. Snyder sat down and Giles deliberately and slowly lowered his head to meet Snyder’s level.
Snyder scowled but apparently had no more games to play. “Mr. Rodgers had an unfortunate accident with a barbecue fork and I therefore need someone to take over the annual Talent Show. That would be where you come in.”
“No.”
The incredulity on Snyder’s face suggested he’d never heard the word before. “What did you say?”
“You want me to organize the Talent Show. I won’t do it.”
Snyder pulled out a folder and laid it out on his desk so that the label - which read Giles, Rupert - was visible. “I see in here ex-Principal Flutie notes that you have next to no interaction with the students. He was quite concerned. Now I generally don’t care what a weak-hearted liberal who knows nothing of control thinks, but I need someone to take over the Talent Show and you’re it. You will accept this position or I will take my concerns to the school board and ask them why we don’t have a red-blooded American tending our high-school’s library.”
“Mr. Synder.”
“Principal Snyder,” the man interrupted.
“Are you aware how Principal Flutie died?”
“I was told that ex-Principal Flutie was eaten by wild dogs.”
“Quite,” Giles agreed. “And you have, one presumes, noticed the death-rate of teachers and students. It is, in case you aren’t aware, abnormally high.”
Snyder leaned forward. “And where exactly are you going with this?”
“It’s just that one more death, among so many, would hardly be noticed. I do believe it’d barely be commented upon, particularly if the victim were new to the area and not well-known by any of the locals.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Over the Talent Show? Please. It would take considerably more than that to make me act.” Giles graced Snyder with a Ripperish grin. “Now, if you were to object to my lack of interest in extracurricular activities and you were to take said objection to the school board and thereby threaten my position, well, such activities might force me to take action.”
Giles watched as Snyder parsed his words. The man fell back into his chair. “I don’t have time for your petty concerns. Get out of my office.”
On the way through her office, Giles gave a cheerful nod to Miss Mansfield. As the bell rang, indicating the end of homeroom, he remembered that Snyder’s summoning had interrupted Buffy’s trance. Damn, and he’ been so close to finding the Scythe. It had taken the girl months to fall into her first proper trance. He could only hope it wouldn’t take her as long to do so a second time.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: 535 - Sandy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 907
Note: Locked to members of Taming the Muse
Buffy had been on time for once. Well, almost on time. She’d been only fifteen minutes late which, given how late Buffy usually ran in the morning, was nothing short of miraculous. Giles had set her to meditating and had then vanished into his office. He found if he remained he provided a distraction as in someone she could badger with questions and terminably dull chatter. When he stepped back into the main room of the library, his tea, freshly brewed, steaming from its cup, he found she’d actually slipped into a meditative trance. Finally! He’d never heard of any Slayer taking so long to pick up the technique. He’d have to take care, move quietly, but if he were successful he’d finally learn the location of the Scythe.
Giles placed his cup gently on the counter, eyes on Buffy, looking for any sign of wakefulness. Before he could return to his office for the spell components, the library door flew open. “Mr. Giles Principal Snyder wants to see you. Oh, um, oops. Sorry.”
As Buffy startled out of her trance, Kris Mansfield, Snyder’s administrative assistant, shook her sandy curles and stared as if wondering why Buffy was sitting atop the big table. Not that she’d ask. She’d been a Potential herself and knew better than to interfere with Council business. Still, Giles wished her to the seventh circle of Hell. He’d been so close to finally locating the Scythe.
“Can’t it wait?”
“He’s insisting he has to see you now.” Giles nodded his acquiescence and Kris took her delightfully distracting curves back to her office.
He turned to Buffy who’d started in on whatever sugary caffeinated drink she’d brought to homeroom. There’d be no getting her into trance again that morning. “Hopefully this won’t take long. You were doing well. Please don’t allow Miss Mansfield’s interruption to hinder your practice.”
Buffy dropped the cup from her lips. “Huh?”
Gods. “Perhaps you could continue meditating while I’m gone.”
“Oh, uh, sure,” she replied as she burrowed through her purse.
And so Giles wasn’t in the best of moods as he strode into the outer office. Kris looked up but dropped her eyes as she asked him to sit. “He’ll be with you momentarily.” Giles fumed as the tiny, tin pot of a dictator made him wait. The man was obviously doing this on purpose, so insecure that he had to act the alpha.
“Miss Mansfield?” The shrill voice called from the inner office. “Send him in.”
Giles took the offered seat and stared up at Snyder. The man, standing, wasn’t much taller than Giles seated. As Giles sat up taller in his chair, Snyder glared at him as if blaming Giles for his own shortcomings. Snyder sat down and Giles deliberately and slowly lowered his head to meet Snyder’s level.
Snyder scowled but apparently had no more games to play. “Mr. Rodgers had an unfortunate accident with a barbecue fork and I therefore need someone to take over the annual Talent Show. That would be where you come in.”
“No.”
The incredulity on Snyder’s face suggested he’d never heard the word before. “What did you say?”
“You want me to organize the Talent Show. I won’t do it.”
Snyder pulled out a folder and laid it out on his desk so that the label - which read Giles, Rupert - was visible. “I see in here ex-Principal Flutie notes that you have next to no interaction with the students. He was quite concerned. Now I generally don’t care what a weak-hearted liberal who knows nothing of control thinks, but I need someone to take over the Talent Show and you’re it. You will accept this position or I will take my concerns to the school board and ask them why we don’t have a red-blooded American tending our high-school’s library.”
“Mr. Synder.”
“Principal Snyder,” the man interrupted.
“Are you aware how Principal Flutie died?”
“I was told that ex-Principal Flutie was eaten by wild dogs.”
“Quite,” Giles agreed. “And you have, one presumes, noticed the death-rate of teachers and students. It is, in case you aren’t aware, abnormally high.”
Snyder leaned forward. “And where exactly are you going with this?”
“It’s just that one more death, among so many, would hardly be noticed. I do believe it’d barely be commented upon, particularly if the victim were new to the area and not well-known by any of the locals.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Over the Talent Show? Please. It would take considerably more than that to make me act.” Giles graced Snyder with a Ripperish grin. “Now, if you were to object to my lack of interest in extracurricular activities and you were to take said objection to the school board and thereby threaten my position, well, such activities might force me to take action.”
Giles watched as Snyder parsed his words. The man fell back into his chair. “I don’t have time for your petty concerns. Get out of my office.”
On the way through her office, Giles gave a cheerful nod to Miss Mansfield. As the bell rang, indicating the end of homeroom, he remembered that Snyder’s summoning had interrupted Buffy’s trance. Damn, and he’ been so close to finding the Scythe. It had taken the girl months to fall into her first proper trance. He could only hope it wouldn’t take her as long to do so a second time.
