December 12th, 2006

torchwood

Presage

Toshiko glared at the screen, willing the text to make sense. When it didn't bow to her will, she leaned back on her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering for the hundredth time what drugs their languages contact in Los Angeles was taking.

Highlights of his contributions had been an inedible strudel recipe that had been bounced between languages on Babelfish and the diary of a teenager who wrote in Elvish.

From the fragments she'd extracted so far, she was expecting more of the same. She really couldn't see to sandshoe in law being an earth-shattering prophesy.

--

tw100challenge #4: reverse fandom: angel: to shanshu in la
dawn

Hejira

Dawn wiped away the blood and grimaced as she inspected the damage.

The demon she'd been stalking had unexpectedly attacked from behind. It was only her years of training that had saved her from becoming another statistic of violent crime.

She hefted her sword, seeing the chipped edges and telltale signs of stress fractures. As it was, she'd been lucky to get away with a minor flesh wound. She grinned and reminded herself that when she spoke to Spike later, she'd need to qualify that as a cut that didn't require stitches, rather than an imitation of the Black Knight.

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open_on_sundaychallenge #194: stress
Part of the London!verse