Added a conversation to Chapter 4, extending it a bit. Tried to fix the addressed problems while I was at it. Not a lot of work, all told, had kind of a Career Crisis Panic Attack (see Natter) that blocked me from working much.

"The Fledgling" is 60 pages long today. Damn.

Ooooh, Deb. Fabulous. Gah.

t /inarticulate

FAY!

Hallo, darlin'.

I actually got some more work in on the Faith piece today. It's gone a bit clearer in my head than it was, in terms of what's actually going on with the sudden non-slayer awareness/terror of people who are slayers.

Conquest through dream. A very long road.

Chapter Five is available. Click here for the page again. It's shorter than the last two chapters (though longer than the first two), and I'll probably add to it some, internally. I'm trying to avoid overtalking and think I may be undertalking about Tara's emotional issues. We'll see.

Nova, some notes (still in editor's cap):

Capiche

It would be spelled "kapish", but truth to tell, I can't hear Lilah saying it. Just my take, but that doesn't strike me as her sort of comment at all, and it doesn't really meld with the sense of polished threat she's been conveying through the previous speech. And the previous speech, all of it, is really good - someone who had no knowledge of Lilah would read that and say whoa-uh, she's a high-powered bitch with layers.

Now, on that theme, I want to wave something here, as a writing sample, and make a suggestion:

After confirming that nothing new had appeared in the apartment,

Remember my spiel about showing, not telling? This is telling, purely the narrator's view; you're moving her around, but you aren't showing us things through her eyes. Who is Tara? Would someone not familiar with this character get a sense of who she is, why she's so fearful, her inner strength?

Show us the girl, her actions, her feelings. Light her up for the reader. This is a statement of what you want this character to do, not a picture of what she's doing or why. We need a picture. It doesn't have to be long, or involved, or nitpicky, but it does need to be there. Fiction, or fic, has to be more than statements to support a plot - there needs to be characterisation and story. And here's a spot where you did that, and did it really well:

...Tara, already quite familiar with the story, tuned the two out as she wandered around the apartment. [After confirming that nothing new had appeared in the apartment,] she stopped at the necklace she had seen earlier. If anything here was going to be important, she was sure this was it. Focusing on the charm, she began a meditative exercise that was supposed to elevate understanding of a mystical object...

"Tara!" said Wesley, suddenly, shaking her out of her trance. "Are you all right?"

Here, you've shown us the girl and her reasons, her actions, from her perspective. Perhaps taking that statement out and combining the flow - "Tara, already quite familiar with the story, tuned the two out as she wandered around the apartment, coming to a stop at the necklace she had seen earlier. " would work?

The Fledgling, part 35...Homicide/Angel Rated R

I’m not listening to that again. “Yes or no, asshole. My time is valuable. I have to be in Redmond tomorrow. And you know what that means. One smirk from me, and Wolfram and Hart is busted from a T-1 line to paper cups and string, huh? Mr. G. and I have an...understanding. "

I slam the whip down on the desk so hard even Timmy would find it over the top. Papers skitter around and some fall on the floor...I try to insinuate them in my demon wonderbra.

”Well, in that case, Mistress, my answer is yes. That is the goal, Ma’am.”

“You please me greatly, slave. We’re gonna create our own little win-win here, huh? You’re gonna share what’s on your mind, and if I like it, you get to touch me. If I don’t think you’re being honest,I get to chastise you. And we know you like that, too.”

“I can show you my elevator.”

“Let’s take this one step at a time, shall we?” That was one euphemism I hadn’t heard.”I want to make our party last.”

He laughs, which I’m not expecting. “It’s not about my manhood. It’s an actual elevator. To the darkest reaches of Hell.”

When a suspect smiles, you get real friendly. “Worse than this?” I say, and smile pretty.

“I guess you thought I was being metaphorical,” Manners says, like he was gonna teach the dumb whore a thing or two. I sucked back my real feelings and said “You’re not?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “Actual hell.”He looked proud, like it was sargeant's stripes or a key to the executive toilets.
“Hell. You mean with pitchforks and devils and stuff? Fiery pits?”

“Not the parts I’ve seen, but I’ve not seen all the torment dimensions.” I could feel my blood turning cold as he talked, a feeling I’ve not had for a long time.

“Um, let’s save the best for last, shall we? Although I can tell you are just an evil mastermind chock-full of dirty little secrets.” It sickened me to play up to him, but the occasional sweetness just gave my dominance that much power.

“Enron was my idea,” Holland Manners says. “But I never get any credit for it.”

Man, I am dying to see what she gets out of him. And of course, now I'm envisioning guys in some Knox-like science division of the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart, building Ken Lay and....

Thanks. But I think the Munchkin's angst is going to take things over for a bit, first.