Just call me the computer whisperer.

Willow ,'Lessons'


Sang Sacré

The fictional Buffista City. With a variety of neighborhoods, climates, and an Evil Genius or two, Sang Sacre is where we'd all live if it were real. Jump in -- find a neighborhood, start a parade, become a superhero. It's what you make it.

History. Map.


Holli - Sep 17, 2002 7:46:05 pm PDT #5 of 1100
an overblown libretto and a sumptuous score/ could never contain the contradictions I adore

I put the finishes touches on my makeup-- the theme for the evening is glitter. I'm wearing my dark red Homecoming dress with the corset-y top and looong skirt, and the black-and-gold fairy wings from my Halloween costume. This being Blood, they actually work after midnight.


Burrell - Sep 17, 2002 8:00:07 pm PDT #6 of 1100
Why did Darth Vader cross the road? To get to the Dark Side!

Perfect evening to go out on the patio and see who comes by on their way to the party. So I walk out to the front with two bottles, one red, one a dark amber Scotch, and a whole lot of glasses.


Gudanov - Sep 17, 2002 8:02:04 pm PDT #7 of 1100
Coding and Sleeping

From the high tower of the Castle I look over the city. It's alive with celebration. The streets are pulsating with light while fireworks lights the skies above. I couldn't ask for a better distraction. I use my handy watch radio to hail the Castle AI.

"Is everything ready?" I ask.

All preparations are complete.

"Excellent. Start the experiment."

Intiatiated

I take another look toward the city as a thick fog starts to roll towards the city. Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha!


Liese S. - Sep 17, 2002 8:10:34 pm PDT #8 of 1100
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."

The chill of a fog rolls across my slippered toes as I step out of my bubble in Dogtown. That's strange, I don't remember fog in the forecast. But what does it matter, anyway? I've got my velvet jacket on, and a sleek new all-graphite Steinberger slung across my back. It's gonna be a good night.


Elena - Sep 17, 2002 8:19:06 pm PDT #9 of 1100
Thanks for all the fish.

Fog in the Mews is nothing unusual, but it is clinging to my skirt, dampening my skin and collecting in chilling droplets in my cleavage. I look toward Brian, but he's clearly enjoying the sight too much to lend me his coat. We walk toward Town Hall.


DavidS - Sep 17, 2002 8:21:54 pm PDT #10 of 1100
"Look, son, if it's good enough for Shirley Bassey, it's good enough for you."

Everybody's heading towards the main square outside Town Hall. It's all lit up and I can hear the music already. People are chanting something...

ita! ita! ita! ita!


billytea - Sep 17, 2002 8:24:53 pm PDT #11 of 1100
When they made this particular hero, they didn't give him a gun, they gave him a screwdriver to fix things. They didn't give him a tank or a warship or an X-wing fighter, they gave him a call box from which you can call for help. And they didn't give him a superpower or pointy ears or a heat ray. They gave him an extra heart. They gave him two hearts. And that's an extraordinary thing. There will never come a time that we don't need a hero like the Doctor.

Hey, quick reminder: what's the addy of the site with the map of Sang Sacre?


Beverly - Sep 17, 2002 8:24:54 pm PDT #12 of 1100
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

Magic night. I've been walking again, and cat wouldn't be left behind. It's after sunset, even the afterglow has faded. A few stars are beginning to show, but there's a fog gathering.

I look around for cat and see him touching noses with a white wolf who stands foursquare over a sword in the grass. The blade gleams in the scant starlight.


Burrell - Sep 17, 2002 8:28:33 pm PDT #13 of 1100
Why did Darth Vader cross the road? To get to the Dark Side!

I can hear chanting in the distance: ita, ita, ita

Pouring myself a big glass, I go upstairs to contemplate the closet. More chanting wafts in.


§ ita § - Sep 17, 2002 8:31:59 pm PDT #14 of 1100
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.

Something cold against my foot startles me awake. I stare for a few seconds at the sword, lightly covered in condensed mist. Something's ... the wolf has gone, so I suppose I should get up.

I can feel the cold of the metal even through the leather wraps as I put the sword back in the sheath.

I don't know how long I've been asleep, and that contributes to my bleariness.

As does ...

What the hell? Someone's calling me?