Dark_Wesley (dark_wesley) wrote in iftomorrow,

Different direction

Quite a bit of time passed-- hours, perhaps, I didn't even bother checking my watch, as I'd found that had a tendency to slow research time down to a crawl. Illyria had pointed out a few more books for Cordy and myself to crack, but had been largely not that helpful in narrowing down the field to useful information. And so, with my own eyes starting to blur and a rather melodramatically loud yawn from Cordy, I adjounrned the session. A much smaller pile of books, most with slips of paper marking possibly important pages now faced the next round of scrutiny. At least we'd managed to pare things down.

I left Cordy no doubt on her way back to her room for some rest. Illyria seemed content to remain behind the desk and commune with the potted plant.

Leaning against the front desk, I stood rubbing my chin in thought as I tried to suss out anything that I might have inadvertently missed in research. Unable to think of anything useful, I turned back towards the stairs to search out someone with both experience with The First and the expertise to help me analyze it.

Rupert Giles.

((Open to Giles.))
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I leaned back in my chair and tilted my head up, sighing at the ceiling as though it were the inanimate shelter's fault for my frustrations. I withdrew my glasses from my face and set them on the desk atop one of the many volumes of literature that littered the tabletop in an anarchaic pattern. "If the first doesn't kill me, trying to find a word on the bloody thing will," I grumbled in complaint to myself and resumed my previous posture, turning the page to view the following text.

And then the next.

And then the next.

I'd so often heard that there hadn't been a written word recorded of the First but what other avenue had I to pursue information? I'd hoped to find something -- a page, a paragraph, so much as a word about it that would point me in the right direction. So integrated was I in my study that I didn't even see Wesley step into my company.
The door to Giles' room was ajar, and so I entered cautiously, but without knocking. My fellow former Watcher was as I had been not so very long ago, quite buried in a pile of books. I glanced at the spines of the volumes, guessing that they were among the ones Giles was able to rescue from his own collection in England.

I cleared my throat, hoping to announce my presence as gently as I could.

"Giles? I was wondering if I could bend your ear for a tic, see if we can pool our resources at all."

The man looked tired, and I certainly couldn't begrudge him that. They'd escaped Sunnydale thinking they'd won a war, only to find it had been merely a long series of battles.

"How are you doing? Can I offer you anything?"