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Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

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Through the mirror of my life [Jul. 24th, 2006|03:52 pm]
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
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Klarutsha demon.

No, I’m not sneezing. Very funny.

Klarutsha demons, seem to have a lot of knowledge of what’s going on in, under and around the city, while their habitat is at the harbor. They apparently have very sensitive hearing. Just how sensitive was something I found out the hard way. I was in the middle of getting some information about either Fred or Angelus when my cell phone rang.

The next thing I know, my cell phone was gone, and disintegrated into a thousand tiny little pieces. Suffice to say, I was not happy with this. I was rather pissed already, but not as pissed as the Klarutsha demon.

I never knew they could throw humans that far. There’s no doubt in my mind that was a personal record for me. Fortunately it was at the harbor so I had a soft landing in the water.

Unfortunately, I can’t swim.

I have never been more grateful for the amount of garbage people seem to throw in the ocean. Some happily floating half eaten surfboard turned out to be my rescue. As long as I tried not to think of the rather large teeth marks on that things, the very deep, deep, deep water, and the fact that I was a very long way from the docks, I was able to stay calm.

Took me about an hour to get out of the damn water. Of course then I was visited upon by the universal law of ‘what can go wrong, will go wrong’. The harbor appears to be notorious for vandalism. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a working payphone? And why is it you can get a cab and bleed all over the backseat, but they pass you by when sopping wet?

Good lord.

I finally found a phone, had to borrow a quarter from a homeless chap - who incidentally looked cleaner then I did right then - and called home.

Half an hour later I was able to get a word in edgewise to the hurricane that was Lindsey and Cordelia. They were extremely mad, talking gibberish and upset.

It’s hardly my fault I got penciled in for an unwanted impromptu swimming lesson now was it?

They came to pick me up and were silent the entire drive home. I knew something had to be wrong other then them being angry because I wasn’t able to call. They way they were looking at each other. The way they were looking at me. The way Cordelia didn’t seem to want to let go of my hand despite how grubby it was and how much I stank.

When we got home, the girls had already gone to bed, Dennis keeping a close eye on them (perfect baby sitter). Lindsey and Cordelia sat me down and told me what happened, and what they know.

Thus far.

I don’t think it’s sank in yet, so I’m not going to say anything. What I am going to do is go into my office and do research. There has to be a way to fix this. Somehow.

Yes, some people call it denial.

I call it coping.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: watcher_pryce
2006-07-25 04:01 am (UTC)
I wasn't talking about here. I know I have a place here. (Thank you)

Now would I dare to do such a thing? And why *don't* you come over here? Just to make sure I'm actually sitting here, behind my books and not... Off elsewhere.

Dennis? Oh, no of course not Any particular reason for that?
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[User Picture]From: rogue_lawyer
2006-07-25 04:22 am (UTC)
That's what matters... isn't it?

Oh, you would dare. And I think I just might do that. I need to see if you meet the Cordelia Chase Standard of Cleanliness after that dip in the Pacific so she can come back in here.

Nope. Just checking.
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