4795/Moving Day

Moving Day
Date of Scene:	02 July 2018
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Willow wants to sage the apartment, but can't find the sage for the boxes. Oh, and they've already lost their deposit. Oops. The joys of living with a Slayer.
Cast of Characters:	Willow Rosenberg, Buffy Summers

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Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Moving Day. Okay, fine. Not *quite* moving day. They'd actually been moving things in for a couple of weeks now as time and tides permitted. But this was the last big push. At least for Willow. The last of her boxes had been delivered, along with her bed, dresser, and the rest of the second hand furniture she and her parents had been able to scrounge up for the 'new apartment' -- and the apartment /was/ new, the Hugo Building only just opened to its residents, and the grand official opening happening later in the month.

Willow had just said goodbye to her parents and officially become someone who had moved away from home, and was scrounging through the smaller of her boxes, muttering to herself.

"Where is it? I know I packed it.. It has to be here somewhere!"

Buffy Summers has posed:
Coming in the door, Buffy has a large box she is carrying in front of her. Which means she can't really see anything. She could tap into her Slayer senses and maneuver perhaps but honestly, it doesn't work well for general everyday. Throw a knife at her head? Sure. But try to echolocate the room with it and she'd just fail most likely. Unless the room was out to attack them. Yet, she doubted that was the case. At least, she hoped.

Ir wouldn't be the first time furniture had turned against them.

Carefully she moved, slow and easy, extending a foot way further than necessary to tap ahead of her before she takes a step. Another long step out, tap-tap-tap, then she takes the step forward.

"What did you lose?"

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
No furniture attacking them yet. At least not on purpose. Willow had stubbed her toe on one of the larger boxes her parents had dropped off today, and banged her knee into the coffee table while tossing things out of one of the pile of small boxes she's been digging through (note: they haven't finished unpacking and there's already a mess... not a 'we haven't unpacked' kind of mess, but a legitimate 'things tossed about haphazardly' kind of mess)

But so far no deliberate acts on the part of furniture to impart its will (or someone or something else's) upon the pair. Their apartment was, as yet, surprisingly evil spirit free -- and Willow wanted to keep it that way.

"My sage. I know I packed it in one of the smaller boxes. I thought I'd remember which, only I marked it 'open me first'.. and then.."

Willow grins sheepishly over at her bestie. "Only I forgot that part and marked a bunch of other boxes open me first as well and now I can't remember which box. how in the heck am I supposed to smudge the place if I can't find the sage?"

Her nose crinkles up as she ponders, hopefully, "You didn't happen to pack any, did you?"

Buffy Summers has posed:
That gets a laugh as Buffy peeks around the edge of the box to spot her bestie's hopeful expression. "If you asked for a stake, knife, or axe, I'd be able to say yes. Can't say I thought about sage," she admits with a shrug as she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom. She sets the box on the floor just in side. Not to the side. Right there where she will have to move it to get into the room. Then she won't forget. Hopefully.

"I can help you look for it though. How many small boxes could you have marked with..." Her voice fades as she spots at least three unopened with those very words scrawled on top in Willow's handwriting. "Don't answer that. Let's just look."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Now, /that/ had Willow's rapt, and shocked, attention, the petite red-head blinking at her friend. "Okay, I can see not packing any, because, well... but not even think about it? Do you even know what kinds of bad spirits linger around places like this? Especially after the ground has been disturbed by construction..."

Buffy's question has her looking around the room, sheepish. Besides the three that can be readily seen, there are another two behind the couch, and at least one in Willow's bedroom. Not to mention the several already mostly upended around the coffeetable.

"I think only seven?"

Buffy Summers has posed:
"Only seven?" Buffy repeats, stressing the first word. Leave it to Willow to say something like only seven. And if she knows her friend? There will be ten. Maybe more. This might take all night.

She sits on the floor by the coffee table and pulls over the first box marked with the soon-to-bo infamous words. The flaps are unfolded so she can peer inside. The first box fails to produce any sage. Then she pulls over the second.

"Is there a shop nearby where we might be able to buy some? I'm sure you already researched the closest possible ones."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow tries not to look caught in the... well, was it really a lie? She quite meant it as a hopeful guesstimate, even if she could count seven at least without considering the bedroom. Or the bathroom. ...or the kitchen...

"I was trying to be organized? I guess I got carried away. I was using a blue marker that day. I remember that.. or was it pink? I was drawing flowers on some of the boxes. They looked so.. brown sitting there in my room.."

Willow. Not winning points on making the situation better, and considering she's the one wanting the sage and worrying about lingering spirits and starting out right in the new place..

"Two? I mean, there are a few more, but they're a little bit further away" - for some value of further - "and one if you don't mind making a subway connection. But I'm not sure about that one. They had actual witches in black hats on their website, which is really a little much if you ask me. I think they're catering to the wannabe crowd and probably charge prices to match. I saw a little oriental shop around the block, though. It looked promising."

Which is to say Willow wasn't sure if it sold sage, but she sure was curious about what they might actually sell there.

"Road trip?"

Buffy Summers has posed:
"Road trip," Buffy agrees as she pushes away the third box that has failed to give up the necessary goods. She hops to her feet and rushes for her bedroom...

...where she promptly trips over the box she left there. It topples as she falls across it. She manages to tuck so she lands on her shoulder and rolls, sprawling flat on her back as the box topples and lands about an inch above her head. The flaps she did not bother taping open and the contents begin to tumble out as she rolls to the side just before a dagger pegs the spot where her head had been a moment before. So much for their security deposit already. The metallic clanging sound of the pile of weapons within cannot be mistaken.

She rolls to her feet and grabs her messenger bag from on top of her bed and hangs it cross wise over her torso, leaps over the mess she made, and returns to the living room like nothing weird just happend.

"Ready when you are."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Now, while Buffy has been doing this, Willow has been.. well, for Willow she's been trying to 'tidy up' some, and to her credit there are actually a couple of places where you can see the floor again about the coffee table. However... everythng that had been on the floor, or toppling around boxes is now living on the couch (because 'I was putting things back so they weren't in the road'). It may be floor sitting for the duo later today, or an impromptu cleaning session. Though by the looks of things already, the pair may be in grave danger of becoming a PSA for hiring maid service if this keeps up.

"There," Willow says somewhat proudly as only one box is on the coffee table now. "Ready when you are. Say, what was that thump in there? You trip over something?"

Buffy Summers has posed:
"Yeah, just tripped over a box. It's kind of a hazard we'll probably need to get used to for a while," Buffy says, downplaying the entire incident. She's certainly not mentioning the knife sticking in the floor now. Such pretty hardwood floors too. Damn.

She looks at the coffee table, giving a big smile. "You did a lot while I was gone. Looks great." She doesn't seem to care that it just moved to another spot, on the couch at that. Maid service may be a very real thing they need. If a maid wouldn't run screaming from the witchy trappings and weaponry in their home.

She opens the front door and steps outside first, glancing up and down the hallway then going another step to allow room for Willow to join her.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow dusts her hands off on her bottom, and surveys the room. The room of So. Many. Boxes.

"Yeah. We might want to get some takeout for food tonight, too. I can't remember where I packed the kitchen stuff."

The compliment gets a sunny smile, Willow's gaze lighting on the very, very small area of (almost) neat in the oasis of not neat that is now their apartment.

"There was a little restaurant by that shop, too. It had the most amazing smells coming out of it." Willow joins Buffy at the door, and steps through into the hallway, heading towards the elevator. "Oh. Wait. Maybe that was the other shop. Oh! And there's this little coffee shop a few blocks away, too. Mercutio's. They have actual cushy chairs you can sit in, and gelatto. Gelatto, Buffy! With weird names like limone and maron glace. Like did you ever?"

While waiting for her friend, she pushes the button to call for the elevator.