entrancelogs | ( hellhound event | open ) i'm going to find you;

Entry tags:

( hellhound event | open ) i'm going to find you;

Who: Cordelia Chase & various & open!
Where: Hot mess all over this grill.
When: Hellhound Invasion: Days One - Three.
Rating: R for potential death/gore.
Summary: Cordelia's not sure which she prefers right now: Painless visions or a vision coma.
The Story:

On the first day, Cordelia definitely knows those howls aren't happening inside of her head. She sees some images in her mind's eye, painless, as if it were happening right before her. These visions aren't as painful as she remembers, or what she's used to, and while she's unsure if this is a message from the Powers That Be, there's a niggling in the back of her mind that things aren't exactly wonderful at the moment. Sometimes, Cordelia's walking down the hallway before she comes to a complete stop, as if she's looking at a speck on the ground, but that's just her being assaulted by a very painless vision. Does she stop mid-sentence? Does she go off on a completely different tangent? These invisible hounds are driving her vision-crazy.

On the second, she can hear barking that doesn't quite belong in the quiet walls of the mansion. She's seen movement in her mind, as if she's imagining it, as though what she's seeing before her eyes is her imagination forming images with faces she's familiar and unfamiliar with in the mansion walls. She's stopping and moving at the most inappropriate times, panicking, trying to find people that she sees in her mind's eye to ensure that they're safe. Help the helpless.

The visions are painless, and Cordelia, while not new to those types of visions, finds herself wondering what's true and what's her going completely insane.

She's found herself a crossbow from the closets, but sometimes, she's without it. Sometimes, she's with a sword. Sometimes, she's by herself. And if she's by herself, she's either running, hiding in a room, trying to saturate the room she's in with salt, or lighting up like a Christmas tree, something that occurs beyond her control.

( NOTE: if you'd like cordelia to have a vision of your character, start a top-level comment detailing what she sees in the vision and i will throw a thread-starter your way so we can thread it out (this is to avoid me godmodding anyone and so i have a proper picture of what you'd like!). she's open for any other interactions, visiony or mundane. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Valjean was no mere fool; the day that the queen gave her warnings about the Hellhounds, he took a moment or two to see what preparations other people were making, and he followed their lead. He procured a gun and ammunition from the closets, as well as salt to spread around his room and outside his room as well.

But everyone knows how quickly plans can be changed by just a small, split second decision or stray thought. And so even though Valjean had resolved to stay in his room, he couldn't keep that resolve, not when the Hellhounds were invading the mansion, attacking anyone who was in their way.

So Valjean left the almost safety of his room to patrol the hallways, gun in hand, ready to shoot at anything that seemed bent on attacking or killing. But of course, given the invisible quality of the Hellhounds, it wasn't a very equal match.

But a gunshot can still do damage, invisible target or not, so by the time he actually encounters a Hellhound, he's able to inflict some wounds on the creature. But by the same token, the demonic hound has been able to wound Valjean as well, and now he's bleeding from half a dozen places, though still continuing to doggedly fight back.

This is the scene that should show up in Cordelia's visions.]

Cordelia knows that face the moment she sees it within her mind's eye. And she can't not act on it.

All the hallways of the mansion appear the same to her, as did those of the Hyperion, back when the gang used to use it as their headquarters before upgrading to the evil law firm. She moves as quickly as she can and as quietly as she can, but quickness and quietness cannot ever be threaded together. There are a few close calls with hellhounds, but as she has a sword she's gained from the closets in her hand, she finds that she's able to pin them back, or protect herself, or outrun them. But Cordelia has never been quite good at running.

She regrets not asking more of Valjean, of his favourite floor to stay on, on whether or not he keeps his communicator on his person at all times. There is no time to call anyone, though, as she moves around the mansion in a rushed bid to find Valjean and prevent his bloody fate from occurring.

If nothing else, the sounds of gunfire, howling, and Valjean's shouts as he and the Hellhounds fight it out should guide Cordelia straight to them.

But she's not the only one being guided there; there's a lot of noise, and said noise is leading more Hellhounds to the scene. A hound leaps at him, sinking its long teeth into his side, but his response is prompt: he shoots the creature point-blank in the face, thus ending its life.

It's harsh and cruel, but there's no time for showing mercy, not when more Hellhounds are coming in what seems to be an endless flood. He whips around then, gun still in his hand that's slick with blood (mostly from the Hellhounds, but some of it belongs to him too), ready to face the oncoming pack.

Buffy had dreamt about Cordelia, and it was definitely creepy, as her dreams were wont to be. Given that they seem to be almost tolerating each other down this rabbit hole, she resigned herself to finding her old 'friend,' wandering the halls until they might eventually collide.

It wasn't a very logical strategy, her sleep-addled brain eventually realized. Buffy made her way down to the kitchen and shot Cordy a text:

u get bfast yet?

Cordelia had never really had a texting friend before. She had never truly had friends, not until she had joined the Scoobies, both Sunnydale and L.A. based, but they had never been ones to text. It surprised her, though, to find a message from Buffy, for that toleration was something she was very glad for, but it was surreal, also. It reminded her, almost, of that universe she had wished for, where there was no Buffy Summers, and how unbelievable it had been.

Cordelia's outside, laying on the grass, with a hand pressed to her head, as the sun beat down on her, and didn't quite help with her headache.

No. Probably why I have a raging headache.

And then she sent another, a few seconds later, just so she didn't seem so dismissive, as she was the New Cordelia, not the old:

Why? Want breakfast at Tiffany's?

i was hoping for something a little less fictional.

She wondered where Cordy was, resolving that she must be alright if she was texting her back and all. Buffy got out some ingredients and started her work.

breakfast at buffys will just have to do

A breakfast that was neither burnt or expensive. Cordelia pulled herself up from her lazy position on the grass and began walking, brushing off her pants as she did so. She didn't send Buffy a text until she was crossing the threshold of the mansion.

Will there be breakfast left when I get there? I've seen you eat.

that all depends on how quick you are with the getting of here

She shot her last text out distractedly, cracking a few eggs in a pan.

Not all of us have Slayer speed. Some of us are just plain normal.

With a side of demon and Higher Power, but, Cordelia, while she thinks that's far from normal, considers that, when compared to Buffy's appetite, rather normal. She hasn't developed a bigger sweet tooth than she had when she was one-hundred percent human since she was demonised, so, that, to her, was pretty damn normal.

Cordelia's on the lower floor of the mansion, working her way up the stairs as she texts.

youd on't have to be slayery to be speedy. what do you like in your omeletes?

It was nice to have someone to make breakfast for, now that she was in the thick of it, actually.

And isn't it sad that Cordelia has to pause to think it over. When was the last time she even had an omelette? The only person who ever tried cooking at the Hyperion was her. And it's not like the group even went out for drinks — though, after her recent visit to the new headquarters, she sincerely hopes that the gang is doing as Fred had proposed and having knocking a dozen back a night.

She doesn't want to admit to Buffy that she honestly has no clue, so, she resumes her walk, her pace slightly slow. How does one usually cope when they are having breakfast made for them?

Your trustworthy and you have a great appetite, so clearly I'm in good hands. Surprise me.

Xander almost always means to stay inside during troublesome Hellhound visits, but considering he passes for dumb three quarters of the time, it might not be surprising he's not tucked away.

So maybe some small part of what's left is courage and worry, because that's what's driving the young man to seek out Cordelia. He might not be able to offer her protection against the invisible beasts, no, but he provides all sorts of other great incentives for keeping his company. Like sarcasm, and being the perfect kind of canon fodder.

But, yes, he's looking. And seeing, if his eyes don't deceive him. Harris catches a glimpse of Chase down the hall, paused in her steps, and by the look on her face, she doesn't seem entirely all right.

"Scream once if you're surrounded by invisible dogs," he advises upon approach.

Cordelia's down in the hallway, salt in hand, with a knife wrapped up tightly in her other. She's exhausted, feels it right to the marrow, and looks it, too.

But, boy, is she so glad to hear that nails-on-a-chalkboard voice.

She turns. "What do I do when I'm being approached by a very visible one?" That personal growth she had experienced in her years of being in L.A. is evident in the smile she bears when she says it. It's meant to cut back the harshness of her words.

Despite the situation at hand, Xander feels like that was a pretty good burn. He smiles in return, his hand pressing to his chest, over his heart. "Cordelia, you wound me," he jokes, head shaking back and forth. Honestly, he's never felt quite so fond as he does in this moment, and considering some of their past history, they've had some pretty fond moments.

"Something tells me you should trust that dog, junkyard may he be. He's here to guard the goods, not hunt for Satan," Xander adds, closing the last of the distance between them. Feeling compelled, he goes in for a hug and stops just short of a kiss on the cheek.

When he pulls back, he's looking a bit more serious than before. "Really, though, we should probably get somewhere safe...r."

While Cordelia verbally denies any sort of trust for a junkyard dog, she trusts said dog explicitly, anyway. There was a time where she didn't trust him at all, but when it came to apocalypses and saving the world - while it was more Buffy's terrain than any of theirs - Xander was one of her soldiers, perhaps one of the best soldiers, and Cordelia has never quite lost that faith in him.

Besides, he knows the ugly side of these things, and she's kind of glad that he's being conversational about it. Except for when he pulls her in for a hug. She's not quite sure she'll ever get used to this Xander, the affectionate, friendly, still bumbling but slightly more mature one.

Cordelia merely cocks her eyebrow at him. "Is this the part where you suggest a basement? Because, I'd hate to burst your bubble of nostalgia, but those have never ended well for us."

Xander's face flushed red at Cordelia's words, his mind immediately returning to that particular basement, that particular day. He had been so sick with worry, his stomach knotting, his heart squeezing tight at the sight of Chase. If ever there were something he could go back in time and change, it would probably be that.

"I've actually started taking up in closets," he informed her, his tone a little more pressing than it had been earlier. "For the comfort and isolation." More than anything, he wanted to avoid injuries, especially in those that meant the most to him. So when he pulled away, he tried his best to steer her in the direction of somewhere he could call safer.

As he moved along quietly, he tossed a few words back over his shoulder. "There are a couple really good hiding places. When this is all over, I'll show you. N-not that you're always interested in hiding, but... you know, just in case something like this comes up again."

Cordelia lets him. She has never been very good fighting Xander. It's one of the only battles that she's never felt truly comfortable fighting in, knowing that, most of the time, in some way, she always loses — much like her own battle back home, but that one is one she knows she's going to win, even without her physically being present.

"Does this happen a lot?" She glances at him, eyebrow arched, and clarifies, since that's a question with a very obvious answer, "The closet hiding. Is this a Xander Harris personalised tour? Because I could've used this when I first arrived, you know."

"Well, it's a pretty private function," he offered sincerely, his eyes on her. "Tours fill up fast, you know." And as he said this, all he could think about was how he'd only managed to spend time in the closet with Amy Pond, who probably wasn't nearly as interested in being there with him as he was with her. But Cordelia had already discovered his flaws and still decided not to hate him entirely. Like some kind of magic.

He waved his hand and shrugged his shoulders right after. "But the truth is, I wanted to make sure it was just perfect for you. Or... as perfect for you as I can imagine. There's even a vanity in one. It's only got one bulb, but if you're putting on makeup for the club, it probably doesn't matter all that much." Did that joke land? Sometimes, in stressful situations he can't help trying, even if he fails more often than not to land the punchline.

Cordelia's suffering from a brain injury.

As it were, a brain injured Cordelia linked her arm with Xander's so when she stopped walking, she would, too. Knowing him, he would've kept on walking. The two were never perfectly in sync; when he needed to stop and smell the roses, he was too busy smelling Buffy's hair. "Are you calling me vain?" she asked, raising her eyebrow and pointedly looking at him.

A non-brain injured Cordelia wouldn't have given Xander the option of saving his own hide. Her fist would've already landed — and hopefully bruised — his arm.

[For this you can see Amy running down a hallway and you can see furniture and things being torn apart as she runs. I think I'll have Amy set a trap and be scrambling away to safety. The end goal would be her room for more salt. For the sake of the event, Amy probably talked a bit to Cordelia a bit on the first day, told her to stay safe and stock up on salt for whatever good that would do.]

Amy shakes the container of salt she has and frowns when she realizes how low it has gotten. She's used it a fair amount to at least give her some running room while she's been flitting about like an idiot. She needs to get back to her room and pull out a whole ton more if she wants to survive all of this. She's at least on the second floor so it isn't that far of a run. She had carefully set up furniture and things so she could somewhat track the invisible beasts.

She peeks around the corner of the salted door frame and tries to spot if anything has shifted since her last look.

And something has shifted since Amy had last risked a glance. The hallway is now the host of one Cordelia Chase, a nifty sword in hand, as she walks as quietly as a mouse through this particular hallway.

All the halls look the same in the mansion, and Cordelia knows - has seen it already come to pass - that there are sleeping dogs in one of the hallways, waiting for someone to innocently stumble upon them. She just can't figure out which hallway and which time this occurs. Every image, sound, scent, and feeling is starting to mingle together that she can no longer keep things as distinctly locked up in their boxes anymore. Her movements feel sloppier than usual, despite her taking as much energy as she can in trying to keep her mind and movements as sharp as the blade of the weapon in her hand.

Her gaze is so intent on the floor around her - beside, behind, and in front - that she does not look up at all to spot that familiar flame of hair.

Amy notices Cordelia at once. It takes all her energy not to shout at the girl and run off after her. She knows that would be a bad idea. The Doctor isn't here with an easy fix; while Cordelia looks awfully competent holding that sword, these things are far more dangerous. She does hurry over to her friend and in quietly shrieks, "Cordy!"

Cordelia jumps. With a hand to her chest, she exclaims, "Jesus! Amy, you do realise I'm holding a sword and can stab you with it accidentally?" Despite the potential scolding of her words, Cordelia's quite pleased - and relieved, oh so relieved - to see Amy. She thinks of pulling her into a hug, but stops herself for the exact reason she just verbalised.

Her eyes raked over her to note that, yes, Amy had all ten fingers, possibly all ten toes, and still had all strands of vibrant red hair on her head.

"Sorry, just got a bit carried away. It's nice being able to see someone for once." She does the same finger and toe check for Cordelia and happily notes that everything looks to be in order. Her gaze will travel back up to that sword. "You use one of those often?"

Cordelia glances towards her sword. "Once or twice," she says, glancing back at Amy. "Why?" She arches her brow, pursing her lips slightly as she readjusts her weight. This isn't the time to be funny, but Cordelia, while being someone who has had a schedule implanted in her head for a few years now, has never been one to get her timing right. "Do I look menacing? Think invisible pups will quiver in fear when they see me?"

[~~They dashed off for the safety of a closet and then made out for hours on end.~~ Cordy can get Amy to temporary safety and Amy will beg Cordy to stay with her and stay safe but then they have things to do and Cordy has people to save! And Amy has a death to die!]

He comes across her when she has her crossbow drawn. Her back is to him but he's instantly reminded of Helena. He stops and studies her, his mind playing tricks on him. For a moment he can see the Huntress before she fades back into herself. He grits his teeth and presses forward. As long as she's on his side, she's a valuable ally. She appears to be able to hold her own and he's starting to grow tired from all of this. He hasn't been her twenty four hours but he hasn't rested a single moment.

He doesn't really understand what is going on. River gave him an idea, but they didn't have time to talk and the girl was driven. He doesn't know if he'll get a better idea now, but it's a possibility. He approaches her, calling out before he gets too close.

"Can you tell me what's going on here?" The thought crosses his mind of how different this is from home. But he doesn't know where these people lie on the good/evil scale and he doesn't want to throw them into interrogations when those things are roaming the halls. Questions are the better option.

She jumps. A shake of her limbs, a jolt to her heart, and Cordelia Chase jumps. She'll blame it on the tiredness, of the lack of sleep, and how her mind seems to be on overdrive with every sense one can think of. He does not take her by surprise as Cordelia has become acquaintanced with every single one of them. She turns around to narrow her eyes at the male who has taken her by surprised, but that hard look turns into one accompanied by an arch of her brow.

"Yeah," she says, her voice a little sharp. She's annoyed that someone wearing a ridiculous outfit with a flattering green has taken her by surprise. Her gaze flickers over him, trying to take him in, trying to recognise him, but she can't, and that furthers her frustration. That crossbow that had been aimed at empty space is now pointing at him, but Cordelia does not realise this, as her mind and actions seem to not be entangled together for the moment, due to that rope of tiredness wrapping itself over every notch of her body. "Someone let the dogs out and forgot to put them on a leash or turn them visible."

It takes her a few moments to realist that that particular shade of green is awfully familiar.

He ponders her reply, not sure he understands what's going on. He ran into them before with River. He's never fought an invisible monster before and wonders how it's possible. There must be some kind of science or trick that is making it difficult to see them.

He's all too aware that her crossbow is aimed at him. There's a twitch in his chest where it's aimed at and his muscles are ready to leap out of the way if he senses her going for the trigger. A well placed arrow is just as dangerous as a bullet and he isn't fond of having them pierce him. "I find it hard to believe we're fighting invisible dogs. If we can figure out a way to work through whatever is shielding them, maybe we'll be better able to fight them."

Cordelia rolls her shoulders and lowers her crossbow once she glances down and realises that she is, in fact, pointing it towards this green-hooded figure. She doesn't want to waste an arrow on him. She doesn't have many left.

"I guess we need to give you a quick crash course, buddy," she says, slightly deadpanned. This isn't something she's used to, giving people the education on what they assume to be fantastical is very much real. She nods to the side, assuming there's a dog there, but what she wants to demonstrate is that they cannot see what could or could not be standing beside them. "The things that go bump in the night? They're very real. And these dogs? Are very invisible. Trust me, I've tried to make them as visible as a tacky outfit, but, just like the wearer, they don't want to be seen."

His brows knit together beneath that hood of his. He doesn't want to believe any of this, but it's hard not to when he's currently living it. He was dumped into the forest and had to fight his way to the mansion. Even inside there seemed to be the beasts everywhere. He's never heard of or encountered anything like them. His world dealt solely in the realistic. And these things? As far from it as one could get.

"You're telling me that we're fighting invisible dogs and it's not some fancy, new type of armor?" His voice is a little on the incredulous side. Because really? Invisible dogs? That happened in movies, not his life.

She probably should've broken it to him a lot smoother, but considering this is her watering hole and all the animals that seem to wander to it have always been in the know of these things, it's not something she readily thinks about.

"Would it be considered redundant if I said yep?" She does, however, note his tone of voice, but while she knows how to fix the unfixable Angel, she's not quite sure how to make him believe that Santa is real and that, yes, Rudolph is an invisible, homicidal reindeer.

"Usually I'm way better at this whole slowly introducing the world of the things that go bump in the night to the new guys, but we've got invisible pooches on our tails, and we kind of need to get into a rather salty room before they decide to make dessert out of you and I."

Wonderland probably could have been a bit kinder when it brought him over and not thrown him right into the mix. He hasn't had the chance to get his bearings straight while fighting for his life. And while he's rather used to that, this supernatural element is breaking his stride. It's hard to fight something that he can't see. For the time, he's willing to suspend his belief to try get through this. Trying to argue the plausibility of invisible monsters isn't productive when they're trying to kill you.

"Given the circumstances, I'll let the introduction slide." At the sound of a distant howl, he starts moving down the hall, testing door knobs to see which they can duck into. "What good is salt going to do us?"

She glances over her shoulder. Even though she won't be able to see any of the dogs coming, she's getting a sense of deja vu that she's seen this particular angle of this hallway before - from a vision, no less, but they're all starting to blur together.

Cordelia's gaze returns to him and she shrugs. "It's what the locals are telling us keeps these dogs at bay," she says. She doesn't like that she doesn't understand it. After all her years of helping rid Sunnydale High's corridors of demons and L.A.'s alleys of their cousins, she has never met anything like this before. And she dislikes that she can't help. Readjusting the crossbow in her grip, she says, "Like garlic for vampires."

He doesn't understand what good salt will do but he figures it can't hurt to try it. He turns back to look at her. "Do you happen to have any on you?" He knows he doesn't. He didn't even know that would be an option.

He finally comes across a door that's unlocked and opens it, holding it steady for her to enter. "We're not going to have trouble with them, too, are we?" he asks as she moves towards him. One supernatural entity at a time is enough for him, thanks.

Cordelia buries one hand in her pocket, her fingers coming to find the little salt shaker she had managed to swipe from one of the many rooms with good. It's not a lot, but it's better than nothing.

She moves, figuring that standing out in the hallway, while sometimes the best way to meet people, isn't exactly the smartest thing to do, given that there's a few rowdy dogs on the loose. "Not the ones from my world," she says quietly, crossing the threshold.

Pulling that salt shaker out of her pocket, she inspects it, before she moves to put her crossbow on a table nearby and twists the lid. "Lets just hope we don't get cornered. It's a good thing vigilantes don't wear distinctive cologne."

He watches her, taking note of how comfortable she is with all of this. He wonders what it is she does back home. He fears talking too much while he is the Hood. He doesn't know how much these people know of him and what he's done. And while he views being the Hood as a responsibility he must shoulder, he can admit now that his methods aren't always the best.

"You've dealt with things like this before."

"Once in a blue moon," she shrugs. The blue moon happened to be every night, but Cordelia doesn't want to waste much time in relaying her resume to a man dressed up as if he's Robin Hood. "I take it you're used to stealing from the rich and giving to the poor who you can see —" Cordelia presses a hand to her temple as she feels her voice fade out. Closing her eyes — which is something she doesn't need to do anymore, but does so out of habit — she sees images that are becoming all too familiar. Isn't this vision a repeat?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( hellhound event | open ) i'm going to find you;

Day 2, 8/4; holler at me if this isn't what you had in mind!

hollers! no, it is fabulous! (and, ditto, let me know if this workds!)

It's perfect! \o\

day 1 squirrelfriend, sorry this took me so long to tag

it is okay, my chipmunk friend. ♥

it better be ;;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

day 2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Day 2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Day 3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject