@ofinkandeyre

             zahara wentworth stood very rightly, spoke very nicely and smiled very politely. she shook hands. she nodded. she elaborated when asked to, and kept very quietly otherwise. cedric was always within eye line; always in enough view to prompt her to speak and to withdraw. the string quartet are delight, and oh, weren’t these tarts just delicious? seemed to dominate most of her conversation, unless of course they were remarking on what a lovely dress she wore or how precious she was or some fanciful anecdote about when they went to kenya that one time. otherwise it was feigned smiles and faux interest in each other’s business and her heart continued its assault on her rib cage. what little recess she was allowed to herself on the bench just outside the ballroom was spent rehearsing what she would say and how she was meant to hold herself. it was all quite a lot of work for a girl of eleven.

there were children at the party of course, but it was not their eyes that scrutinised hers and it was not them that she needed to impress; needed to reassure that cedric made a good investment in his decision to adopt her from that orphanage. with the exception of the fashionable hello and how are you, she spoke very little to them.

Today was like any other day in that when Kennedy woke up, she was still alone. Dawn was, understandably, staying with Spike during the duration of Buffy's misguided absence. With each day that passed by, there was less and less chance that they would find her. But they had to, and they would. Because she was Buffy and if she was dead or gone, people would know. So until they did find her, everyone was doing everything they could, day in and day out, to find her. Kennedy's last endeavor hadn't ended too well, but she was still alive and kicking, so it could have gone much worse. Today wasn't going to be any different from any other day, she supposed, as she slid from her bed and dressed accordingly, slipping through her morning routine only half conscious of it. Her mind was on other topics, thinking about other things. Like who had Buffy and what were they doing to her.

She'd been told it was some ex-Watchers, fired from the council, but what did they want with Buffy? Besides to torture and shame her, pitiful as they were. They were in for a big surprise when the strike team came storming in, because they'd find them one way or another. They'd find them and if Buffy was dead, they'd destroy them. And if she was alive, well-- they'd probably do the same. You didn't just kidnap the Slayer General like that and get away with it. You didn't just kidnap someone's friend, someone's sister, someone's lover and just get away with it. Kennedy had never been particularly close to Buffy, but she knew the toll her absence could take on people. She knew the whole and ache that it made in the people who cared for her most. She could see it in their eyes.

The air was crisper today than most, and it almost hurt to breath in. As she walked, she listened to the low murmurs of the city around her, listening to any word that stood out among them. Of course she wouldn't hear anything of importance, not here, so out in the open. But it didn't hurt to listen, to try. She was headed over to Naomi's to see if she was home before heading out. Though she could have just as easily messaged or called her, it was one of those days where Kennedy kinda wanted to see someone's familiar face rather than just hear their voice whispered over a telephone. When she got to the house, however, even before knocking she could tell no one was home. It had that eerie silence hanging around it, like someone had just been there but wasn't now, or maybe hadn't been for a while. Still, she knocked on the door and peered in the bay window, hopeful even though she knew it was empty. After a few minutes, she retreated from the door, a shiver running up her back, like someone was watching her from the house. 

Trekking back down the sidewalk, she turned her course for the Council Headquarters. Maybe she was there. And if she wasn't, well, she was sure she'd run into someone there that she knew, seeing as most of her friends bordered on the Watcher side now. She'd drifted from the more core foundation of the Scoobies when her and Willow had split. The building stood on the street, looking so normal and regular, like all the buildings around it-- and yet, if you knew what was inside, you'd know it was nothing like any of the buildings around it. Kennedy knew. 

She pushed the door open with one hand and slipped inside, craning her neck to look around as she did. She'd only been to the Council a few times before, but it wasn't like she had much reason to come here. As she headed inside, she walked over to the memorial in the center and gazed down at the plaque. For a moment, she just stood there, not really reading or seeing, but just observing. Just looking at the damage the First had caused, and wondering if history really was just doomed to repeat itself.

Pulling herself away, she turned and headed for the library, nodding at the receptionist as she passed into the hallway. She was, luckily, quite known around the Council. People knew her face from the fall of Sunnydale, and from the recent debacle of Buffy v. the Council. But as she made her way into the library, she found it rather void of the person she'd been searching for-- and rather void of any person, really. Sighing, she turned to head out, but stopped quickly in her tracks when she almost ran into a man. Tall, dark-looking, a bit of stubble on the chin. She'd seen him somewhere before, hadn't she? 

There’s no Crystal Palace… It’s the name of a football club, but the actual Crystal Palace was destroyed in 1936.

Oh my god I hate this place.