Redemptions Path [entries|friends|calendar] Faith Lehane [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

Post To cantfindsanctum. [Monday, October 9th, 2006 @ 3:23pm] Guns. Not my typical deal, then again, it did come with the promise of a five figure salary. Other than tha' income, Lilah, I think tha' was the bitches name, insisted I have one f'safety measures. Like, fuck?! They know what Angel is and they still gimme this piece of metal? S'not like it'll kill him. If it did, tha' be anti-climatic, or whateva the word is. Guns aren't f'the supernatural. It goes against everythin' I am. Yeah, yeah! I'm a criminal. A murderer. But, shit, man! I do it with style. A stake or a dagger. Using a gun is the cheap way, although this one is far from cheap, out. If ya wanna get into the kill, feel the life pull from the body ya hurtin', you needa do it hands on. Somethin' I intend t'do with Angel. And no. Not tha' way. Been there, tried tha'. Rather skip the Basic Instinct seduction ritual. I'm not straight off the train from midget island with bottle blonde hair. Angel doesn't dig brunettes. So, right, there'll be no bullets to wound him in effort to weaken him. Not even if they were blessed by a priest in holy water. Although, tha' doesn't sound so bad. Well, if I wasn't goin' straight f'the kill today. Cos I am. There ain't none of his little crew here to help him. Not as if they could. The stairwell is empty and my feet are silent leadin' to his office. Office? Ha! Whatta joke. He's not part of this world and lookit him, tryin' t'fit in. Tha's another thing tha' pisses me off. He tries to be someone he ain't. Inside he's got a monster. Normal fuckin' people don't. So, who's he tryin' to kid other than himself? I plan on showing him the reminder of his demon. I kinda wish someone heard me. Wish he knew what was commin' at him. But, as the gun is nestled into a safety holster under my shirt, my booted feet comes in contact with the door knob and instead of properly turnin' it with my hand, my heel kicks it in. The wooden door splinters from it's frame, breaking off its hinges and crashing to the floor in front of my feet. The light from the hallway fills the office threshold just enough to keep me in a safe spot until I move. And I'm not gonna move until I see tall, dark and naive standing in my path. Hmm.. wonder if he'll try the 'you're a good person Faith' routine, or just decide t'hell with me, kill me and find tha' moment of true happiness and snap? If I have it my way that won't happen. The him killin' me part. Why? Cos if I don't get to kill him, well, I got other means to make him miserable. "So, how does one get help around here? Cos the way I see it, I need a lot of help and the sooner we start, the faster I get my issues out on the table and find the road to recovery." I shout, hoping to snag Angel's attention; where ever he is 'round here. Inspire Me

inbitterness [Wednesday, September 27th, 2006 @ 11:55pm] [ mood | distressed ] [ music | "Fahter Of Mine." -Everclear ] Here I am in beautiful LA. Beautiful? HA! Not even remotely. These are the former housing grounds of me, ex-convict, Faith. How Angel ever pulled that one; the being an ex-convict, I'll never know. Why? Cos he won't tell me. Guess he likes playin' the dark and mysterious hero even t'this day, er, night. But, whateva. I'm more greatful than anything f'him setting me on the right path. Sure, it ain't been easy and people had tried before; mainly being B, but it took my near self-destruction t'see the error of my ways. So, like I said... LA. No place like it save for maybe The Big Apple. The smog and the traffic are killer. Boston def ain't like this. Sure, its got its moments, but nothin' as overly crowded as this shithole. Why am I even here? Well, cos, it's been a while since I talked to Angel and I don't do phone conversations. Plus, I wasn't exactly busy in Boston. Mostly jus' taken toll of what's changed and what hasn't. That mostly bit I mentioned is my mother. Eh', she's alive and drinking. That much I know. No, I didn't stop in. Why bother? I doubt she'd've recognized me. I watched her for a week or two. Just seeing if she got out of her rutts. Apparently she did. Only to wind up at the local corner for some Valium. Valium and a bottle of Vodka? Even I know tha's a dangerous mix. But, hey! Least she's not operating heavy machinery. Her trailer house doesn't come with wheels. Heh. I'd been there not too long as I stated. Before that I was in Cleveland. Cos, c'mon! G-Man mentions another Hellmouth and I ain't g'na stop by and take funny tourist Slayer photos? I'll likely head back to Cleveland. Jus' not now. Why? One name; Robin Woods. Long story short; Robin thought I had walked out on him. Left him like I did all the other guys I was with. His little boy insecurites about his own ma leavin', yanno dyin'...whateva, rose up and his conscious took the bait. Fine by me. S'not like I needed him. He needed me. He'd been badly wounded enough in the last big battle at Sunnydale that he needed someone to help change the stitchin' on his wounds for three months post. Who was there for a literal helpin' hand? Moi. I did it without protest. Why? Cos I had genuinely liked the guy. Until he became like every other assfucker in the world and ditched me cosa some lame excuse. I take responsiblity for leavin', yeah. But I said I'd be back. And I was honest to those fucking Powers That Be, g'na come back. It was only when he called whining like some parole office, I decided to graciously...er, gracefully?, bow out of that relationship before it got ugly. I'm not afraid of anyone, don't get me wrong. When I say ugly, I mean in the sense of I'd be afraid of what I'd end up doin' if he caught me on a bad day and trust me... majority of people don't like me on a good day, let alone a bad one. And now, I'm here. Took a bus. I hate planes. When the Scoobs said they were headed across the water and on those plastic lookin' contraptions, I stuck my grounds and stayed in the good o'l US of A! Plus, if I wanted a change of weather, Canada was a nice drive and so was Mexico. Familiar grounds are the bus depots of America for me. Can't help it. It's who I am. I like riding with the lower social class of America and the college kids heading home. Plus, with all the shit goin' down in the skies, most being planes, I like being as close to the ground as can be. With my bag slung over a shoulder, I walk the rest of the way towards the better part of the city. Iono if it's Slayer instinct or what, but somethin' here jus' doesn't feel right. Which gives me more of a better feelin' f'coming here. By the time I reach a street I finally know well enough, it happens to be the one with the Hyperion on it. Man, tha' place is still standing tall and proud. Although lights are off and the front gate has a work of vines knitting around it's iron bars. Pushing my way through, I head up on the path, the sound of someone inside making me wrestle with decisions. Do I go in or just head back to Wolfram and Hart like I intended? Squatters could be living in there or... VAMPS! Ignoring the fact that Slayer alert didn't sound off, I march in there all high and mighty, the front doors swinging open and lo and behold they reveal, "Fred?" I ask in total confusion. Why she here and why she crying? "You aight?" I slip my stake back into my pocket and close the distance between us. Inspire Me

mouthofhell [Wednesday, September 27th, 2006 @ 10:51pm] [ mood | determined ] [ music | "I Alone." -Live ] How'd I'd end up here? The middle of nearly nowhere, between Hell and Los Angeles. I'm dressed in my jumper still. Orange isn't a color that any person should wear. And trust me, I've seen my fair share of it on various sized people. And the bigger ya are, the more ya look like the sun. The sun? Fuck. Haven't seen it for days, if not weeks. I've been cooped up in solitary confinement for tha' length of time. I didn't even start it. It was just easier to blame me, I suppose. The girl tha' doesn't, no... didn't socialize with the other inmates. The one tha' always hadda keep to herself. It's not how I survived. It's how they did. I was sure if I made any kinda relationship with one of the other chicks, I'd find myself in a similiar sitch as I did back in Sunny D. I don't think I play nice with other girls. Guys? Sure. So long as they keep me entertained, I'm all for it. But back to how I managed to get to the middle of the California desert. It's not such a hard story to recollect. Especially since it happened about five hours ago. Well, I was released from my enclosure and told to play nice. Like I said, I don't play nice with others. I don't play period. I simply mind my own fuckin' business. And that's what I did. Sank on a bench outside and stared at the cloudy sky. An hour passed before I felt it. The tension in the air. A tension I hadn't felt since I had to watch my back with B in LA just before I did the redemption bit and got on a oneway trip to prison, trying to better my-- ah, who am I kidding? I belonged here where I wouldn't screw up more. Oh, and oneway? Obviously not so oneway. Well, there I was, sitting and minding my own when the tension gathered closer. For Slayers, or at least this one, the tension feels like a buzzing in the air. Like someone cut a live wire and its electricity was scratching air waves. Humming in your ear, brushing against your skin. All the hairs on my arms and neck stood on end. So, I waited. Waited until I heard the first cut of air. The knife making it's first connection with my instinct. One knife to my back. Aiming for my neck to be exact. Not a bad choice considering the rep I had. Standing I spun, snagged the knife, broke the owners wrist. Tossed the bitch to the ground and waited to be rushed by armed guards. Only I wasn't. What happened next was another knife coming at me. This time from some bean stalk of a dyke. She made a hit on my left arm. Luckily not hitting any real needed tissue or vein. I subdued her with a kick to the chest, not with as much force as I'd've liked... oh say, my foot through her ribcage? Eh, but needless to say this had the attention of all around me. Even the asshole on watch post. Except he wasn't moving. He just watched intently. Fucker. He wanted one of us to wind up dead. One less animal he has to watch over like a zoo keeper, or I'd imagine. The last thing I needed was another face to haunt my sleep. But what was I g'na do exactly? What anyone else would. I knocked the pair out until better help arrived. Only that's not where it ended. I felt as if I was on OZ, y'know, the canned show on one of those HBO slash Showtime networks? I was on edge as they walked me away from the two unconscious hitwomen. I was told it wasn't a direct threat. Cheah, fuckin' right. Tell that to someone who's had a few session rounds of electric shock therapy. I knew better. I felt it in my gut. Something was goin' down or planning to. It begged the question of why I was the center of attention? Figure it be B or someone else, iono. Either case, I felt caged. Yes, I'm aware I was caged in a prison, but moreso without help. I felt suffocated. So, whatta I do first chance that comes? I bail. I make this beeline right for the barbed fence and with a jump, a flip and thanks to some tall weight lifting machines, I was over the fence in a flash. From there, I ran. And ran. Fortunately I had enough water in me to keep me hydrated, cos damn, if it ain't hot out here. About twenty minutes into my run, I heard dogs barking. Trying to catch my scent and trail me. They didn't. Neither did any officer. On the news there was probably broadcasts all around indicating an escaped felon. With my luck B, or Angel would see it and think I chickened out. Or worse... whoever was after me might come looking for the job that wasn't finished. And so, voila! Here I am, five hours later, standing on the end of a highway strip, finger pointing towards somewhere. Not sure where, but it has to be LA. I'm facing east, finger west and if I went east, I'd be out of Cali. I don't wanna be. I need to see Angel. Tell him what went down. Then again he'd likely tell me there were phones for that. No matter. I need to get away from here. I need to figure out who's after me and show them tha' I ain't g'na be the one at the end of a blade. Here's hoping someone who doesn't watch TV or listen to the radio picks my ass up. Inspire Me

GED. [Tuesday, September 12th, 2006 @ 12:15pm] [ mood | productive ] [ music | "Sweetest Perfection." -Depeche Mode ] Long time no write. Been busy. Tryin' to get my GED and the only one around to help is... well, B. Imagine tha'? B tryin' to help me get obtain(a new word I found in the dictionary!) my GED. She ain't the best teacher, but compared t'what I was used to? She fuckin' sure is! She told me also that people who use foul language a lot, well, are jus' too lazy to use other words. Pfft. Y'believe her or wha'? I want my GED, not a lesson in social skills. 12 Inspire Me

nomore_dreams [Monday, May 9th, 2005 @ 12:18pm] [ mood | sad ] [ music | "Walking Dead." Z-Trip ] Her room. Her room? Was it really her room anymore? I ono. I just...I feel strange. I feel lost inside. I'm used to feelin' tha' way, but this kind of lost is different. Neva' felt this way until now. And as the door opens, I know I can feel it. My muscles twitchin' to jus' run down the steps, out the front door and keep runnin' until I can't breath. Tha' I'll jus' die. Maybe then all this will go away. Tha' I'll find some kin'a peace in an endless war and battle. Not jus' with good versus evil, but with myself deep inside. As Dawn walks off, I can't help but think to myself, tha' maybe once I go in there, she'll come runnin' back 'cos B might wake up and knock me on my ass. Gimme a real good ass kickin' from here to LA, and back in jail. Tha' be somethin', 'eh? But I know it ain't reality. Wha' is, is B layin' there. Now in full view as I creak open the door completely and then shut it behind me. Clouded vision blurring further, and reddened cheeks now stained with tears. I'm cryin'. You believe tha'? I wouldn't unless I saw it; but I knew I was. I felt it. Years of holdin' it all in, I let go. My emotions pourin' out of me like a dam that burst. Tip toeing, like I'd wake B up?, I came to the bed side, and sank. Not on the bed, but besides it on my knees. Hands clutching the edge tightly. God, she's never looked more fragile than she did now. And by impulse and by somethin' strikin' me to do so, I leaned up and I kissed her forehead. Eyes closing as I settled back on my knees. She did it for me as soon as I slipped into the coma. Don't ask how I knew; but I did. Chalk it up to maybe an out of body experience...if tha's wha' I even mean. Wipin' at my eyes furiously, I tried to offer B's sleeping form a smile. It was cracked and hard. I didn't wanna smile and I'm sure if she could see me, she'd know. I wanted to punch her for not bein' awake and taken care of the people here. For bein' the weak one for once and not the brave soldier everyone declared her as. "Cos ya no martyr now, B." I mumbled and clutched a hand into a tight fist. Nails digging into the palm of my hand in a bruisin' manner. Snifflin' I eyed her and I studied her. "Sleepin' beauty." Sure it was quick and snide, but I mean, is tha' who she thought she was? No. No, but still. She looked like Aurora. And cheah, I saw tha' Disney movie in the big house of all places. "Are you waitin' for ya prince to come? 'Cos he doesn't know yet, B. I think it'd kill him to see you so weak. And weak by your own means. I mean, c'mon! Wha' the fuck were you thinkin' tha' this ain't real? Tha' it's all a figment of your imagination? I know you better than everyone, and your imagination ain't tha' good, sister." I half chuckled...reaching to lay my hand over her's in a sign of protection. She was warm. Not cold, which is good. I knew she wasn't dead, but when people looked like they should or could be dead, then you jus' jumped the gun. "And seriously, B. Aren't ya g'na kick my ass for jus' walkin' in without knockin'?" I waited for a response I felt might come, but knew never would. Not now anyways. "I swear, if you spend eight months in a coma like me, I'll kick your ass back into one as soon as you get up." Now is when I grin at her. This conversation between her and me...it ain't over. Not by a long shot. I still have a lot more to say apologize for. ( Read More ) Inspire Me

slayers_key [Friday, May 6th, 2005 @ 10:08am] [ mood | annoyed ] Settin' the bag to the counter, I watched as B got up and started puttin' it all away. She had to have shit her way, or no way. This order and not tha'. I mean, I get it; order and organization. If she ain't got it, little miss muffet ain't in fuckin' control. And we all don't want tha', now do we? Nooooo. Note the god-fucking-damn sarcasm laced on every word in my thoughts. Foldin' my arms across my chest, I listened. Dawn saying' she could go alone. B nearly droppin' the eggs I jus' bought. Then the pair of 'em exchangin' glances. Well, gee! If I wasn't so fuckin' paranoid most the time, I would'a missed the big fucking sign tha' was. The two lil' shits were conspirin' against me. ME! Ha-fucking-ha! Wha' a crock of shit tha' is. I mean, seriously! Who do they think they were tryin' to play? Giles? And then ontop of tha', the squirt was tryin' to sugar coat me into foldin' and agreein'. Please. I wasn't born yesterday . Plus, I'm sorta the master mistress of this game. Smilin' over at Dawn, I nodded. "Cheah, sure. Pool. Sounds wicked fun, I'm in and I'll show ya more than how'd'a play with tha' stick." Winking her way, I saw B's mouth drop and there went the eggs. Barbie tryin' to gather it up while stammerin' a few drawn out cusses my way. "So, when we leavin' half pint? 'Cos I ono 'bout you, but I'm ready t'leave. Could do for a stiff drink. You up for some shots?" Inspire Me

[Thursday, May 5th, 2005 @ 1:57pm] I'm back, yo'. Inspire Me

Well, fuck. [Wednesday, February 23rd, 2005 @ 12:05am] [ mood | annoyed ] [ music | "I Hate Everything About You." -Three Days Grace ] It was as if I was stepping back in time. I put up all my defenses when we neared that old familiar house. I had to. I could feel Buffy inside. That slayer connection. Sorta like twins. We're connected. B and me, yeah, I think we really are. Too bad I fucked up a relationship that could've been kickass. Ah well. Can't change the past. Sure as hell can atone for it though. Angel taught me that. A lot. That's one of the reasons why I helped him when Angelus was at the reigns. The other reason was right inside the house we neared. You betcha. Buffy. I owe her a lot more than I owe Angel. "1630 Revello Drive." I mumbled as Willow drove up into the driveway where a dark green jeep was parked. Joyce's car. I remember the woman driving around in it and searching for Buffy as we stayed out late. Patrolling or even Bronzin' it. Fun times that soon turned into a twisted morbid nightmare. All hell broke loose, or at least tried to. Remember folks, we were, and are, on the hellmouth. "You remember the address?" Willow asked in an inquistive tone. Of course I just shrug and flick the half smoked cigarette out the window and onto the cleaned cement driveway. "Yeah, guess I did. Hard not to when half the time you all were here." It was a half assed remark that I doubt Red even believed. I sure as hell didn't. It was because of Buffy that I remembered it. I ruined so much in such a short time for the blonde slayer. "Sitting there isn't going to be of much help." Willow was speaking now from the porch. I had drifted into some sort of trance as I stared to the green jeep. Joyce really wasn't there anymore. You could tell just by looking at the dirty car. It looked like it hadn't had a wash in years. Probably hadn't. B most likely never even stepped foot inside the vehicle. What was done was done. It was a waste of a perfectly good machine to me. Then again, I wasn't the one with morals and some sort of conscience, was I? "Yeah, yeah. I was jus' thinkin' on shit." I replied in a whisper to Willow, who had to have heard me because she turned and made her way to the front door of the house. Here goes nothin', I thought to myself with the distant sound of a car door slamming behind me. As I came onto the porch, there they were. My walls that is. I was building them ever since Angel asked me to go back with Red and help the others out. First initial thought, 'No way in fucking hell. B hates me. She'll most likely think I'm in on the end of the world shit. I was in on it at least once.' Oddly enough, I didn't say what I thought. Something strange for me. I was passive and agreed. I still have a lot to redeem myself for. Maybe this will give the bad misfit of a slayer the earned brownie points to get her some sort of solace. Here's hopin'. With a deep breath and a heavy heart, I followed Red inside the house. Inspire Me

My life as I fuckin' know it. [Tuesday, February 22nd, 2005 @ 5:38pm] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | "Master and servant." -Depeche Mode ] Summary: Faith reflects on other things she did whilst in Buffy's body. Things unseen to our eyes and tells us just why Buffy was so worked up after the entire body switch. Disclaimer: Wish I owned Buffy and all the characters related. If I did, I'd have enough money to hire someone to clone Sarah Michelle Gellar and let the true shippers have peace once and for all with the entire saga. But, I don't. I'm just a poor girl with the obsession of writing. Also, I do not own the lyrics to the song. I heard it from a friend, and I give credit to the author on that note. Note: Everything in bold are lyrics. In italic are thoughts. And pardon the typos and the way I adjusted some words to fit Faith's way of speakin', kay? ^_< With that said, enjoy and review. - - - - - - If I was beautiful like you. Oh, the things I would do. Those not so blessed would be crying out with murder, and I'd just laugh and get away with it too. Like you do. It had worked. Buffy was on her way to being gone. In my body. My fuckin' body! Talk about a kick to the head, huh? Imagine livin' everyday in a body that you really hated. A body that men worshipped. Worshipped just to get into the temple only to fuckin' disgrace it. Then bam! One gift of the gods, and you're in the body of the person you hated for makin' you hate yourself. They should'a made a fuckin' movie outta it, 'cos I swear, it was really goddamn poetic. The things I had done in the body of the cherished golden girl. Hmm, what's tha' ya say? Riley? Oh, hell no. Nah, this is way before Captain Cardboard, as Spike calls him. Now Spike? Tha's a vamp I'd bang into the grave. Do you see the cheekbones on the deadbeat? God, tha' was somethin' I *really* wanted to do while in B's body. Bang Angel's grandchild. Just as I told him. 'I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne, and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.' Because y'know what? I would. I wouldn't even hesitate. In that body of hers, or this old one of mine. Mostly in B's body, I would've done so. Why? Why the hell not?! Imagine Barbie's face when she not only found out I slept with her precious Soldier, let alone Spike too? Man, she'd flip. Which she actually did on my ass. Though, it was for more than her thought tha' I was manipulatin' the master at it all, Angel. Yeah, right. Remember, B? Tried that once before. Ain't going for twice, babe. Did my fair share of trying to bed a man headstrung on his beloved Buff. Eh', Buffy, whateva'. Angelus, Angel. Same thing in the end. Same body. Same sins. Yeah, as I was goin' to explain. B was royally pissed for more reasons than me sleeping with her newest meat. Her emotions went deeper than that. I guess somewhere in the back of the goodie goodie's mind, I knew that living in the temple men actually worshipped and respected, minus Parker, that it wasn't goin' to last. Nothin' ever does for me anyways. I always get screwed in the end. All too literally for my likin'. If I was beautiful like you, I would never be at fault. I'd walk in the rain between the rain drops and pulling traffic to a hault. But that would never be. What got the firecracka', shooting off her mouth and limbs, was the fact tha' I tattooed her. Y'know it. The most sexual of kinds. Right between her legs. If you parted those sun kissed thighs, you'd see a name on the inner flesh. Just before the sinful curve where thigh met her beautiful entrance to the goddess' temple. Faith. Who elses name belonged there? Not dead boy's. Fuck tha' shit. He only wished he could've been as intimate with Buffy's body as I had been. To know just how she felt while fingers pushed the folds apart. How wonderful it felt to arch up when the lightest of feather touches grazed over the swollen nub. The way the skin burned because, unlike him, or anyone else, I knew what I was doin' to the gorgeous body. I was worshippin' it and keepin' it holy. Yeah, whateva', twisted as it might be, I know half a dozen people wish they had been in my shoes, or hers, howeva' ya see it. Havin' that delicious lithe body squirming under their skilled ministrations. Mouth sucking on the fingers tha' tasted of herself. Hips bucking up in the air, all the while crying out for more as the orgasm rushed out. If I was beautiful like you, I'd be quick to assume, they'd do anything to please me. I see the reaction when you walk into a room. But, that would never be. That just can't ever be, 'cos I'm not beautiful like you. It was a reminder. A reminder as to who truely owned Buffy's body, even if for a fraction in time, like no man ever would. Me. I'm beautiful like me! I claimed her body in a hundred ways. Makes me wonder, as I sit here, watchin' her sleeping frame with the SIT's all 'round the house, if she has the name still etched on the inside of her thighs under that thin little peach colored night gown. One way to find out, huh? ( F I N D _ O U T ) Inspire Me

One of my many musings. [Tuesday, February 22nd, 2005 @ 3:34pm] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | "Master and servant." -Depeche Mode ] Fingers hovered over the computers keyboard. One of those old and ancient keyboards of a faded white, and key letters smudged off by the massive use of it over a period of maybe two decades, or a little less. There it was; writers block. The light above hung high, light flickering on and off almost religiously every two minutes. Luckily she had the light of the green monitor to keep the room illuminated. Though, the buzzing sound the tower gave off could definitely quit right about now. Writers block was doing nothing for her weekly journal entry. She kept an entire log after the last two years. Marked every bad episode of Faith's life; behind bars. That title had to be erased and replaced with something a little more better. "Hells Awakening." The brunette said to no one aloud. Only her conscience was Faith's loyal companion. Reminding her when things got hard, she had made others lives harder. A reason why she was here. Redemption, it isn't always easy. The distant echo of fingers tapping the keys stopped, Easy? No, fuck tha' shit. It ain't easy ever. Wha' the fuck was I thinkin' when I thought I could do this? Damn, I must've been trippin'. The brunette thought. Especially days like this. Days? No. It was nightfall already. The darkness consuming the entire prison. The windows locked with steel bars taunt you with some ounce of freedom, while at the same moment in time, denying you it with a cruel understanding; you're part of a free nation, just unable to participate in it. Fingers stopped again, doe eyes staring intently on the screen before her. Wanting to rip it from off the desk where it was nailed, purposely for that reason, and bash one of the guards heads in. "Whatta crock of shit. I sound like the lamest fucking loser eva'. Me, writing almost influen...influentially. Ha, cheah right. I bet if I tried spelling tha' word, I wouldn't be able to." To prove her point, she went on to try it. I N F L U E N T . . . A pause again, and Faith shook wild tresses of milk chocolate spirals and hit the backspace button. "I can't even fuckin' spell it. Goddamnit. I should just use word speller, or whateva, after I figure out wha' the hell to write." So, losing herself in the hypnotic trance of the horrid green lighting of the old monitor, Faith went back to work. It was just hard to focus when you felt something going down on the outside and not be able to go and find out. But, if it was something big, she figured Angel would at least give her a heads up in knowing. Despite her being behind maxium security. Inspire Me

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