[Chloe] Research, research, research
Jun. 7th, 2007 07:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Who: Chloe Sullivan (Faith's body)
Where: The cafeteria
When: Nearly noon (about six hours after Who Da Man)
Invited: Tara, Willow, Molly, Daniel, Dean, Sam, anyone else with an interest
Status: Complete
After the third annoyed glance at her Chloe realized she was drumming her fingers on the counter. It took a deliberate effort of will to stop. The itch to do something was becoming unbearable. She felt antsy, unable to sit still. Chloe wondered if this was some side effect of having Faith's hyped-up "Slayer" metabolism, or some kind of predatory instinct that went with it.
Or maybe she was just bored.
Other than asking the obvious question of Ash--"Where did you get that spell?"--and wrestling the trunkful of books into the cafeteria--she'd had bupkis to contribute to the research. Her considerable research mojo was useless when it came to reading Greek, Latin, Russian, Sumerian, and even more exotic languages. It was only to be expected that The Doctor could read them all; that huge ego seemed to be more than justified from what Chloe knew of him. And Daniel Jackson's mastery of numerous languages wasn't terribly surprising. That Willow could read some of it was a little surprising, but since she seemed to have experience with magic and grimoires it made sense.
But Ash? It galled Chloe that he could read everything. It was slightly less galling to discover that Rose, Jack, Jon, Tara--and McKay, if he'd stuck around--could all read all these books too. Chloe began to wish she'd gone on the trip to the Tardis. She was feeling like a fifth wheel around here.
(Not that they're having much luck,) Chloe thought, looking around. The circle of salt had been swept up and disposed of along with the bowl of polluted coffee, and the tables and chairs restored to their usual places. The trunk sat on the kitchen counter and the books had been divvied up among those who could read them. Ash had been mercilessly grilled on the details of exactly how he'd cast his spell.
Chloe had had high hopes that they'd quickly find a solution. Now, hours later, it was apparent that a solution would be a long time in coming. The group could read the books, but the books were mostly badly written; rambling tomes in archaic dialects, universally lacking any sort of index or table of contents. They were also full of obscure phrases, hidden assumptions, metaphors, similies, and deliberate obfuscation. The authors had been a miserablly paranoid, selfish and obsessive lot, Chloe concluded. Just finding a relevant spell would be time-consuming.
There had been a couple of false alarms, but upon closer examination the spells were useless. One required material components unavailable to them. Another might have worked, but it required a human sacrifice. Ripley had eyed Ash speculatively but said nothing, provoking a few knowing chuckles and getting a mulish look from Ash.
Now, leaning against the counter impatiently, frustrated by being unable to help, Chloe found her attention wandering. George had long since wandered away and Chloe wondered what she was doing. Or whom? Nah--Chloe suspected George had reached her limit with the three of them. As opposed to Faith, who had continued flirting shamelessly with virtually everyone in her quest to get as much pleasure out of the experience as possible.
Watching Dean flipping through one of the books and bickering with Sam, Chloe was beginning to think that maybe Faith had a point. He was a good looking guy, and had a dangerous 'bad boy' edge that was very attractive. Nothing like Clark, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Faith had already said that he knew what he was doing. Maybe...maybe she should see for herself.
Where: The cafeteria
When: Nearly noon (about six hours after Who Da Man)
Invited: Tara, Willow, Molly, Daniel, Dean, Sam, anyone else with an interest
Status: Complete
After the third annoyed glance at her Chloe realized she was drumming her fingers on the counter. It took a deliberate effort of will to stop. The itch to do something was becoming unbearable. She felt antsy, unable to sit still. Chloe wondered if this was some side effect of having Faith's hyped-up "Slayer" metabolism, or some kind of predatory instinct that went with it.
Or maybe she was just bored.
Other than asking the obvious question of Ash--"Where did you get that spell?"--and wrestling the trunkful of books into the cafeteria--she'd had bupkis to contribute to the research. Her considerable research mojo was useless when it came to reading Greek, Latin, Russian, Sumerian, and even more exotic languages. It was only to be expected that The Doctor could read them all; that huge ego seemed to be more than justified from what Chloe knew of him. And Daniel Jackson's mastery of numerous languages wasn't terribly surprising. That Willow could read some of it was a little surprising, but since she seemed to have experience with magic and grimoires it made sense.
But Ash? It galled Chloe that he could read everything. It was slightly less galling to discover that Rose, Jack, Jon, Tara--and McKay, if he'd stuck around--could all read all these books too. Chloe began to wish she'd gone on the trip to the Tardis. She was feeling like a fifth wheel around here.
(Not that they're having much luck,) Chloe thought, looking around. The circle of salt had been swept up and disposed of along with the bowl of polluted coffee, and the tables and chairs restored to their usual places. The trunk sat on the kitchen counter and the books had been divvied up among those who could read them. Ash had been mercilessly grilled on the details of exactly how he'd cast his spell.
Chloe had had high hopes that they'd quickly find a solution. Now, hours later, it was apparent that a solution would be a long time in coming. The group could read the books, but the books were mostly badly written; rambling tomes in archaic dialects, universally lacking any sort of index or table of contents. They were also full of obscure phrases, hidden assumptions, metaphors, similies, and deliberate obfuscation. The authors had been a miserablly paranoid, selfish and obsessive lot, Chloe concluded. Just finding a relevant spell would be time-consuming.
There had been a couple of false alarms, but upon closer examination the spells were useless. One required material components unavailable to them. Another might have worked, but it required a human sacrifice. Ripley had eyed Ash speculatively but said nothing, provoking a few knowing chuckles and getting a mulish look from Ash.
Now, leaning against the counter impatiently, frustrated by being unable to help, Chloe found her attention wandering. George had long since wandered away and Chloe wondered what she was doing. Or whom? Nah--Chloe suspected George had reached her limit with the three of them. As opposed to Faith, who had continued flirting shamelessly with virtually everyone in her quest to get as much pleasure out of the experience as possible.
Watching Dean flipping through one of the books and bickering with Sam, Chloe was beginning to think that maybe Faith had a point. He was a good looking guy, and had a dangerous 'bad boy' edge that was very attractive. Nothing like Clark, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Faith had already said that he knew what he was doing. Maybe...maybe she should see for herself.