Liz, angela mia, we're crossposting like mad.
1. Only one thing I'd suggest about any of what you just wrote, and it may just be the way my browser is set up: are the words within stars (*is*) to be read as emphasised? In place of italics (put in for clarity)? Because there's a few places where you've emphasised where, believe me, the language is so damned vivid, it speaks for itself and makes the mechanical emphasis no more than a tickle, or a distraction (example would be that bit about: But it's not happening the way it ought to, the way it should be happening, as she's walking forward the air in front of her is getting *thicker*, she'd swear it, it's practically inky with blackness, and it's getting harder to breathe.) That doesn't need emphasis; it's implicit in the outrageously vivid description.
Re posting Notte, Sanguina to my LJ, I need to find out what CaBil and Ms Havisham have as a policy regarding anthology inclusions being previewed in real time. That's a publisher's perogative, so I'll need to check with them first. The other two Darla-in-Tuscany bitlets are up at shriftweb.
t dances
Story's still kicking my ass-- I've covered point A, and I know what point C is (hopefully, I say, with the HSQ), but I'm still doodling around point B.
are the words within stars (*is*) to be read as emphasised? In place of italics (put in for clarity)?
Yes'm. That's just for the BFA, which converts asterisks to italicisation.
Because there's a few places where you've emphasised where, believe me, the language is so damned vivid, it speaks for itself and makes the mechanical emphasis no more than a tickle, or a distraction (example would be that bit about: But it's not happening the way it ought to, the way it should be happening, as she's walking forward the air in front of her is getting *thicker*, she'd swear it, it's practically inky with blackness, and it's getting harder to breathe.) That doesn't need emphasis; it's implicit in the outrageously vivid description.
You have a good point, m'lady. I was thinking too hard about having the Willow-voice in FID, & I got ahead of myself with the line-direction tricks, especially word-emphasis, and over-long sentences, and, um. I'll sweep through and correct those.
I used to emphasise a lot (and trust me, it was a lot trickier in the Time Before Computers, known by the Many Tribes as the Selectric Epoch). I starfted paying attention to it when I was writing something in more than one language (Weaver's sequel has a lot of French, because the ghost was French while alive, and what's more, some of it is patois medieval shit), and it had to be differentiated on paper, shown to be of the ghostatude.
That kinda made the whole soul-searching, or rather the soul search and replacing, of any non-vital italics, pretty much mandatory.
I'm loving Willow walking through dream within dream. And I wonder what's watching her dream....
Elena, a well drink is the standard mix from the standard (no-name) booze for standard drinks at bars.
As opposed to a call drink. Tanq and Tonic or Maker's Manhattan or Chivas and Soda would be call drinks, because you're requesting the specific booze. Gin and Tonic, or Manhattan, or Scotch and Soda would be well drinks, made with whatever.
Well drinks are often cheap as hell during Happy Hour. Long Live Happy Hour.
at least I won't lose it if it put it here.
Five o'clock in the morning. The towns along the highway were appealing to the outdoorsmen and women who were headed into Los Padres National Forest. It wasn't one of the busier parks, so the kitsch-level wasn't quite as horrible as it was around Yosemite or Yellowstone. The sky to the east had lightened to the point that it was possible to tell the mountains from the darkness, and Giles felt a creeping nervousness that said it was time to turn over the wheel and get under cover.
Just ahead was a gas station with attached restaurant and store. Several cars were parked in front even at this early hour. A quick check of the gas gague showed it was time to stop.
Giles glanced into the driver's mirror. Buffy was still behind him, but her head rested on the railing and her eyes were closed. "Buffy," he said softly.
She sat up straight. "I'm awake, Mom." She blinked, looked around, then turned to check the interior of the bus and its occupants.
"I'm pulling in up ahead," Giles said. "We need more petrol, and the rest of you need a break."
Buffy stretched with audible popping sounds. "Oh, yeah." She looked out the front window as Giles turned the bus into the parking lot. "Starting to get light."
"Yes." He knew he sounded abrupt but felt he was justified.
The bump of the wheels going over the small rise into the parking lot jostled the sleepers. Groans and noises of "Huh?" soon followed. Giles found a parking spot in the RV section of the lot.
Xander blinked hard as he peered out the windows. "Where are we?"
"On our way into the Los Padres National Forest," Giles answered. "Just about time to switch drivers, too."
"Coffee," Xander blinked. "Food, hot food. Bathroom. Not in that order."
"I'm sure the diner will have everything you need."
Xander reached over the seat in front of him to shake Anya's shoulder. "Come on, honey, time to get up."
"Uh uh," she muttered, curling in tighter on herself. "Have good day at work, love you, night night."
Fighting a smile, he wobbled to his feet and went around to convince her to get up.
Willow leaned over and kissed Tara's forehead. "Good morning, sunshine," she whispered.
Tara blinked for several seconds, staring at Willow in what looked like confusion, then she smiled and relaxed. "Green rocks with speckles."
"Is that a good thing?" She helped Tara sit up. Tara whimpered when she tried to use her damaged hand for balance. "Oh, yeah, that probably hurts, let me get you something." She reached under the seat for her bag of herbal remedies.
"Potty," Tara whimpered.
Willow sat up fast. "What was that?"
"Potty."
"Do you need to go potty?"
Tara thought a moment, then nodded once.
"You said potty. And meant it." Willow grinned at the others. "She said potty!" The others stared at her. "Which may not be as exciting for the rest of you as it is for me."
Buffy smiled. "It's OK, Will. We're all still asleep." She went over to Dawn and her mother. "Hey, sleepyheads. How do you feel?"
Dawn was sitting up, but her eyes were closed. As Buffy watched, her head began tilting forward, then jerked up. Joyce rolled over painfully and tried to sit up. Buffy took her arm and helped, reminding herself that Slayer strength was not always appropriate. Joyce got her legs over the edge of the seat and considered standing up.
"I think I'm going to need that darned walker," she sighed.
"Right," Buffy said. "I'll go get it." She turned and found it at her side, held by Spike, who had appeared with more than the usual vampire stealthiness. "Um--thanks."
"No problem." Spike retreated back up the aisle, leaving room for muddled humans to get to their feet.
Joyce unfolded the walker, then frowned at how awkward it would be to maneuver on the bus. "This isn't going to work."
"I'll help you off, Mom. Dawn, wake up, we're going to get some breakfast."
"Sleep," Dawn muttered, still with her eyes closed.
"Food."
Xander came down the aisle, guiding a wearily blinking Anya in front of him. "Do we have time for a real breakfast? Sitting down with pancakes and sausage and orange juice?"
"Probably--" Buffy glanced at Giles and saw him look out the windows to the east, a disturbed look on his face. "Do we?"
"If you don't dawdle."
"Dawdle? Over food?" Xander said. "I may not wait for the waitress to put it on the table."
