Buffy Summers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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musicplaying_on2013-03-22 09:51 pm
kiss_evilgoodbye) wrote in musicplaying_on2013-03-22 09:51 pm
Entry tags:
mystic falls } { i believe the storybooks i read by candlelight
Buffy Summers is chosen to live the life of a fairy tale princess. She’s cursed by a witch to prick her finger on a spinning wheel, and is whisked away to live in the safe protection of a man who will probably become more of a father to her than anyone would like. Unlike the fairy tale, however, she’s not a baby when this happens. She’s closer to five years old, which is old enough to understand what the curse means.
She stays away from sharp things. Giles keeps her safe and secure, practically wrapped in cotton for most of her child years, and only lets her go outside so far as to play with her dolls on the front porch. He’s protective, and while she doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, she doesn’t mind either. She hasn’t gotten this much attention from an adult since Dawn was born, and she soaks it up like a sponge.
It doesn’t give her much reason to wander far.
It’s one of these days where she sits with her dolls when a group of village boys runs past her porch, brandishing wooden swords and playing a feverish game. She’s a little over seven at the time. They’re laughing and shouting, and the ruckus is enough to draw Buffy’s attention away from her dolls and to the game at hand. The boys are her age, if not a little older, and it’s that fact that has her stumbling down the stairs, watching them closely.
“Can I play?” The three boys all turn to face her with stupefied looks on their faces. She stands there watching them, fingers laced behind her back and eyebrows up inquisitively. “Well?”
“But you’re a girl.”
Two of the three turn to flash a look at the one who spoke, and Buffy frowns, taking another step closer. “What does that have to do with it?”
“Do you know how to play?” The question is asked by the boy in the middle with soft eyes and it’s an honest question. He isn’t asking to mock or tease her. He’s asking because he wants to know.
“No,” she admits, “but I can learn.”
“Okay.” He takes the sword from one of the other boys with a small bit of protest from his friend, and passes it to her. “Show me.”
She studies him warily for a moment, before taking the hilt of the sword and balancing it in her hand. The wooden sword is lighter than she thought it would be, and she takes a moment to get used to the grip, before running forward and trying to poke him with it. He dodges easily out of the way before flashing her a smile.
“Not bad. You need to be faster, though.”
She doesn’t understand why he’s encouraging her as oppose to telling her to go away, like every other boy in the village does. He’s trying to teach her. Buffy may only be seven, but she isn’t the kind of girl who doesn’t know an opportunity when she sees it. She watches him carefully, watching his movements, then tries lunging again.
She still misses, but this time she gets a little closer.
The other boys wander off, bored with the idea of trying to teach a girl how to play, but he stays, and soon she’s chasing him through the village, wooden sword in her hand and laughing. She finally catches up with him as he falls into a bale of hay and she collapses next to him, staring up at the ceiling of the barn. He takes a moment to catch his breath, before looking over at her with a smile. “I’m Jimmy.”
“I’m Buffy.”
***
As Buffy gets older, she never really loses her interests in the sword, but Giles manages to channel it into a more productive activity—fencing. It’s more lady-like, more suiting of a princess than running throughout the village waving a wooden sword, and Buffy takes to it like a fish to water. That, plus her lessons means she doesn’t have as much time for her village friends, but as they get older, Jimmy has less time for her too.
Jimmy is taken on as an apprentice by the local blacksmith when he starts to get to that age, and Buffy rarely sees him not covered in soot and cheeks flushed red from the heat. He hasn’t gotten to work with any of the actual metals yet, but he’s getting there. He shouldn’t have time for her, yet when he has a break for a meal, he somehow finds a way to her front porch, where they met. Giles will make them sandwiches, and Buffy feels like she has someone outside her tower that she can connect to.
“I’m going to marry a prince, you know.” She takes a dainty bite of her sandwich leaning against the porch rail. “It’s already been decided.”
Jimmy is sitting next to her, and he glances back at her over his shoulder with a sly smirk. He’s barely even fifteen but that smirk is far more knowing than only fifteen year-old boy should be. That smirk does things to the pit of her stomach, and she doesn’t like it. In fact, she would rather he stop all together.
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
“I’m cursed.” It’s a simple fact she couldn’t get around. She is cursed. One day she would fall into a deep sleep and be awoken by true love’s kiss and live happily ever after with the prince of her dreams. That is the way the story goes, after all. “All cursed princesses get a prince.”
“I think you’re doing a whole lot of assuming.” He finishes the last of his sandwich by shoving it in his mouth, and swallows with a grin. “In fact, I think you’re thinking about this all wrong.”
“How am I thinking about it wrong?” She’s almost offended by the accusation. She has done extensive research on this. She knows how these things go. “All the stories say the same thing.”
“Stories don’t mean anything. What if you happen to be awoken by just some regular old boy?”
“My true love can’t be just anyone. It needs to be someone important. Someone special.”
Jimmy pauses, looking at her for a moment, before leaning in close, bracing his hands on either side of her. “Just because they’re not a prince doesn’t mean they aren’t special, Buffy.”
He then pushes off the porch to walk away, and Buffy scrambles into more of a sitting position, watching him as he leaves. Her brow furrows even more, and she pushes herself to her feet and storms back into her house with the lunch dishes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
***
On the day of Buffy’s twenty-first birthday, Giles lets her out of her lessons for the day, and she makes a very adorable, very impassioned plea to Mr. Kent, the blacksmith, to let Jimmy out of his duties for the day. Apparently, he is weak to both passion and adorableness as less than an hour later, she and Jimmy were making their way through the back woods of the village, skipping along the edge of the river bank until they found a clearing for their picnic.
“I can’t believe you got him to give me the day off,” Jimmy laughs as he settles into the blanket. “He never lets anyone have the day off.”
“You underestimate my impeccable charm and my undying relentlessness.”
“I believe you being relentless. I’m not so sure about the charm.”
Buffy sticks her tongue out at him, before tossing an apple at him. “Eat your lunch.”
He grins, and she feels her stomach do a flip flop. His smile still does things to her, that it shouldn’t logically do, she takes a bite of her sandwich to cover the fluttering. Jimmy takes a bite of the apple, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a twisted piece of metal that she couldn’t quite make out.
“What’s that?”
“I made you something.” He reaches across the blanket and places it in her hand. She rubsher thumb over the cool surface of the spear head, taking in the shape, before looking up at him.
“You made me a spearhead?” It’s not exactly the kind of gift you get a girl, and he knows it. But he also knows her and he can probably see the way her fingers curl around it.
“Figured it might come in handy for when you’re saving yourself from that curse.”
Buffy’s never told him what the curse is. It’s never come up and she never saw the point. Jimmy would only worry, and she doesn’t need Jimmy to worry about her. Today is the day that the curse is meant to come to pass, and she may never see him again. She doesn’t want him thinking about that too.
“Maybe it will,” she smirks. “It would be a nice twist on the old story, wouldn’t it?”
“If anyone can do it, Buffy, it would be you.”
She wishes she had as much faith in her as he did. She tucks the spearhead into her pocket and pushes up onto her feet, before reaching for his hand. “Come on. I want to walk along the river.”
“I thought we were having a picnic.”
“And now I want to walk. It’s my birthday. Humor me.”
He sighs dramatically, before taking her hand and getting to his feet. He stumbles a bit into it, and her arms come up to steady him, but at the same time he is suddenly very close. Very, very close.
That funny thing he does to her stomach? The closeness sends it into overdrive. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t want to pull away. She just wants to stand there, watching him and seeing if just maybe he would—
“Buffy!”
Giles’ voice echoes off the trees and she frowns, turning to face the direction of the voice. She couldn’t see him, but it obviously had to be him.
“Giles?”
“Buffy! I need you to come back to the house, please. It’s time to get back to your lessons.”
“But … ” The protest dies before it even gets past her lips, and she turns to face Jimmy with a frown. “ … Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Let me just find out what he wants. It’s my birthday. And we are not going to give up on my birthday.” She gives his shoulders a squeeze and smiles slightly. “Just stay here, okay?”
“ … Okay.”
She smiles again, before running off in the direction of Giles’s voice. “Giles? Where are you?”
His voice echoes off the trees again and again, weaving her way through the woods until she comes upon a small house. She’s never seen it before, and she knows that she should keep looking for Giles, but there’s something about the house that … calls to her. She pauses, turning on her heel and starting to head towards the front door.
The door opens easily, giving way to an empty living room and an even emptier house. She continues to wander through the rooms, until she stops in front of one with a spinning wheel, needle glinting in the afternoon sunlight. There’s something beautiful about it. So beautiful, in fact, that she wants to touch it.
She moves forward into the room without even realizing it, her hand extending to reach for the needle, and it isn’t until she feels the tiny prick in her finger that she even realizes what’s happening. She pulls her hand back, looks at the blood on her finger, and suddenly her head clears.
“Oh.”
It’s barely even a second later before she collapses to the ground.
She stays away from sharp things. Giles keeps her safe and secure, practically wrapped in cotton for most of her child years, and only lets her go outside so far as to play with her dolls on the front porch. He’s protective, and while she doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, she doesn’t mind either. She hasn’t gotten this much attention from an adult since Dawn was born, and she soaks it up like a sponge.
It doesn’t give her much reason to wander far.
It’s one of these days where she sits with her dolls when a group of village boys runs past her porch, brandishing wooden swords and playing a feverish game. She’s a little over seven at the time. They’re laughing and shouting, and the ruckus is enough to draw Buffy’s attention away from her dolls and to the game at hand. The boys are her age, if not a little older, and it’s that fact that has her stumbling down the stairs, watching them closely.
“Can I play?” The three boys all turn to face her with stupefied looks on their faces. She stands there watching them, fingers laced behind her back and eyebrows up inquisitively. “Well?”
“But you’re a girl.”
Two of the three turn to flash a look at the one who spoke, and Buffy frowns, taking another step closer. “What does that have to do with it?”
“Do you know how to play?” The question is asked by the boy in the middle with soft eyes and it’s an honest question. He isn’t asking to mock or tease her. He’s asking because he wants to know.
“No,” she admits, “but I can learn.”
“Okay.” He takes the sword from one of the other boys with a small bit of protest from his friend, and passes it to her. “Show me.”
She studies him warily for a moment, before taking the hilt of the sword and balancing it in her hand. The wooden sword is lighter than she thought it would be, and she takes a moment to get used to the grip, before running forward and trying to poke him with it. He dodges easily out of the way before flashing her a smile.
“Not bad. You need to be faster, though.”
She doesn’t understand why he’s encouraging her as oppose to telling her to go away, like every other boy in the village does. He’s trying to teach her. Buffy may only be seven, but she isn’t the kind of girl who doesn’t know an opportunity when she sees it. She watches him carefully, watching his movements, then tries lunging again.
She still misses, but this time she gets a little closer.
The other boys wander off, bored with the idea of trying to teach a girl how to play, but he stays, and soon she’s chasing him through the village, wooden sword in her hand and laughing. She finally catches up with him as he falls into a bale of hay and she collapses next to him, staring up at the ceiling of the barn. He takes a moment to catch his breath, before looking over at her with a smile. “I’m Jimmy.”
“I’m Buffy.”
***
As Buffy gets older, she never really loses her interests in the sword, but Giles manages to channel it into a more productive activity—fencing. It’s more lady-like, more suiting of a princess than running throughout the village waving a wooden sword, and Buffy takes to it like a fish to water. That, plus her lessons means she doesn’t have as much time for her village friends, but as they get older, Jimmy has less time for her too.
Jimmy is taken on as an apprentice by the local blacksmith when he starts to get to that age, and Buffy rarely sees him not covered in soot and cheeks flushed red from the heat. He hasn’t gotten to work with any of the actual metals yet, but he’s getting there. He shouldn’t have time for her, yet when he has a break for a meal, he somehow finds a way to her front porch, where they met. Giles will make them sandwiches, and Buffy feels like she has someone outside her tower that she can connect to.
“I’m going to marry a prince, you know.” She takes a dainty bite of her sandwich leaning against the porch rail. “It’s already been decided.”
Jimmy is sitting next to her, and he glances back at her over his shoulder with a sly smirk. He’s barely even fifteen but that smirk is far more knowing than only fifteen year-old boy should be. That smirk does things to the pit of her stomach, and she doesn’t like it. In fact, she would rather he stop all together.
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
“I’m cursed.” It’s a simple fact she couldn’t get around. She is cursed. One day she would fall into a deep sleep and be awoken by true love’s kiss and live happily ever after with the prince of her dreams. That is the way the story goes, after all. “All cursed princesses get a prince.”
“I think you’re doing a whole lot of assuming.” He finishes the last of his sandwich by shoving it in his mouth, and swallows with a grin. “In fact, I think you’re thinking about this all wrong.”
“How am I thinking about it wrong?” She’s almost offended by the accusation. She has done extensive research on this. She knows how these things go. “All the stories say the same thing.”
“Stories don’t mean anything. What if you happen to be awoken by just some regular old boy?”
“My true love can’t be just anyone. It needs to be someone important. Someone special.”
Jimmy pauses, looking at her for a moment, before leaning in close, bracing his hands on either side of her. “Just because they’re not a prince doesn’t mean they aren’t special, Buffy.”
He then pushes off the porch to walk away, and Buffy scrambles into more of a sitting position, watching him as he leaves. Her brow furrows even more, and she pushes herself to her feet and storms back into her house with the lunch dishes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
***
On the day of Buffy’s twenty-first birthday, Giles lets her out of her lessons for the day, and she makes a very adorable, very impassioned plea to Mr. Kent, the blacksmith, to let Jimmy out of his duties for the day. Apparently, he is weak to both passion and adorableness as less than an hour later, she and Jimmy were making their way through the back woods of the village, skipping along the edge of the river bank until they found a clearing for their picnic.
“I can’t believe you got him to give me the day off,” Jimmy laughs as he settles into the blanket. “He never lets anyone have the day off.”
“You underestimate my impeccable charm and my undying relentlessness.”
“I believe you being relentless. I’m not so sure about the charm.”
Buffy sticks her tongue out at him, before tossing an apple at him. “Eat your lunch.”
He grins, and she feels her stomach do a flip flop. His smile still does things to her, that it shouldn’t logically do, she takes a bite of her sandwich to cover the fluttering. Jimmy takes a bite of the apple, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a twisted piece of metal that she couldn’t quite make out.
“What’s that?”
“I made you something.” He reaches across the blanket and places it in her hand. She rubsher thumb over the cool surface of the spear head, taking in the shape, before looking up at him.
“You made me a spearhead?” It’s not exactly the kind of gift you get a girl, and he knows it. But he also knows her and he can probably see the way her fingers curl around it.
“Figured it might come in handy for when you’re saving yourself from that curse.”
Buffy’s never told him what the curse is. It’s never come up and she never saw the point. Jimmy would only worry, and she doesn’t need Jimmy to worry about her. Today is the day that the curse is meant to come to pass, and she may never see him again. She doesn’t want him thinking about that too.
“Maybe it will,” she smirks. “It would be a nice twist on the old story, wouldn’t it?”
“If anyone can do it, Buffy, it would be you.”
She wishes she had as much faith in her as he did. She tucks the spearhead into her pocket and pushes up onto her feet, before reaching for his hand. “Come on. I want to walk along the river.”
“I thought we were having a picnic.”
“And now I want to walk. It’s my birthday. Humor me.”
He sighs dramatically, before taking her hand and getting to his feet. He stumbles a bit into it, and her arms come up to steady him, but at the same time he is suddenly very close. Very, very close.
That funny thing he does to her stomach? The closeness sends it into overdrive. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t want to pull away. She just wants to stand there, watching him and seeing if just maybe he would—
“Buffy!”
Giles’ voice echoes off the trees and she frowns, turning to face the direction of the voice. She couldn’t see him, but it obviously had to be him.
“Giles?”
“Buffy! I need you to come back to the house, please. It’s time to get back to your lessons.”
“But … ” The protest dies before it even gets past her lips, and she turns to face Jimmy with a frown. “ … Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Let me just find out what he wants. It’s my birthday. And we are not going to give up on my birthday.” She gives his shoulders a squeeze and smiles slightly. “Just stay here, okay?”
“ … Okay.”
She smiles again, before running off in the direction of Giles’s voice. “Giles? Where are you?”
His voice echoes off the trees again and again, weaving her way through the woods until she comes upon a small house. She’s never seen it before, and she knows that she should keep looking for Giles, but there’s something about the house that … calls to her. She pauses, turning on her heel and starting to head towards the front door.
The door opens easily, giving way to an empty living room and an even emptier house. She continues to wander through the rooms, until she stops in front of one with a spinning wheel, needle glinting in the afternoon sunlight. There’s something beautiful about it. So beautiful, in fact, that she wants to touch it.
She moves forward into the room without even realizing it, her hand extending to reach for the needle, and it isn’t until she feels the tiny prick in her finger that she even realizes what’s happening. She pulls her hand back, looks at the blood on her finger, and suddenly her head clears.
“Oh.”
It’s barely even a second later before she collapses to the ground.