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 Long Lost Perfume, Willow
Daniel Osbourne
 Posted: Jul 1, 2018 | 1:48 pm
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player: Dingo
16 posts

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Well, is it any wonder that the stars just don't rush by
When you're only doing 60 through this oh so vacant night


The Gin Blossoms sang through the speakers in Oz’s van, his home on wheels. He took a sip from a bottle of iced tea, now tepid from the heat. The air conditioner wasn’t working, which hadn’t been a problem in the northern states, but was damning in Louisiana.

New Orleans was a unique city. Every neighborhood seemed to have its own distinct feel, which was kind of cool. Oz had passed through on more than one occasion. It was a good place to find supplies of the magic or otherwise supernatural variety. There was also a surprisingly good music scene in the area. He was usually able to catch a show somewhere during his stays while he was gathering herbs and crystals.

Oz pulled into a parking garage off of Canal Street. He’d only had to have his van towed one time in the French Quarter to figure out you didn’t want to chance dicey street parking in the area. It was better to park somewhere and walk around than to spend half a day trying to pull together the money to get your car out of an impound.

Oz didn’t mind walking. He never really had anywhere pressing to be, which was nice. Maybe it was just his mentality. He’d always been the type to be ten minutes late and get sidetracked on his way to wherever it was he was going. That part of his personality had only gotten worse now that he was sort of a drifter. His life was deliberately lacking in ties to any one place, designed to allow him to pick up and go whenever. In some ways that was a good thing. He was great at packing, he didn’t need much, and he didn’t have much to worry about by way of schedules and bills. But, it was a lonely lifestyle, and harder to get out of than he could’ve anticipated.

Oz combed his fingers through his hair, which was its natural red for the moment (and could’ve used a good trim, if he was honest). He was wearing a faded red t-shirt over worn khaki shorts. His sneakers were pretty new. He wore shoes out quickly these days. He wore a pair of cheap sunglasses he’d bought a few hours ago. His own had gone missing a few days before.

The buildings along the French Quarter always struck Oz as particularly old timey, like walking into a time capsule in a way. He walked leisurely down the street, heading for a well-known magic shop (or, well known to people who knew about real magic). It was one of the few places he’d found in the country that carried a particular herb he’d only found in Tibet. Driving to New Orleans was typically faster than traveling to Tibet most of the time. So, he’d become a somewhat frequent visitor, though not by any means a regular.

As Oz approached the shop’s front entrance his footsteps slowed. He couldn’t say why at first, his brain taking a moment to catch up to his body. And then he realized he’d caught a scent, very faint, but familiar. Sweet with a hint of something floral like lavender, but more on the fruity side, just a hint of something clean and light.

It had been years since Willow’s scent had been familiar to him, but he’d know it anywhere. Oz looked around, brows knit, for Willow Rosenberg.


Willow Rosenberg
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Willow Rosenberg
 Posted: Jul 3, 2018 | 10:53 pm
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player: Ren
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Returning to the city after heading back to New York, Willow felt a huge weight lift up off of her shoulders and she was able to breathe again, like she could really again focus on her shopping. There were a few extra things wrapped in a bag in her basket from the last time that she was here that she wasn't sure she'd actually need, but she'd taken them because it had felt right at the time while she was playing verbal chess with the prince of the city, but she'd brought them with her to exchange if it was at all possible.

Without even meaning to, Willow had gotten herself in deep with everything that was happening down here in the Crescent City, but now that she was involved, the last thing she was planning to do was just to bail out. Now that Buffy was safely out of Hell, she felt as though she could focus just a little bit more on the multi-levels of problems that were going on down here. Breaking a pack of oppositely cursed werewolves who'd been trapped in animal form for the better part of twenty years or better was in the foremost running on things to be fixed.

But the witches here in the Quarter also gave Willow pause.

Some might say that it was because she had no witch blood of her own, that her power started with her and continued because of her books and training (and some cleverness just to round out the quote), that these were the reasons that Willow found the state of the coven in New Orleans so... off. But she had a basis of comparison, she had Tara if no one else. Tara's mother had been a witch and her daughter inherited her abilities as well. Backwards bullshit that the whole 'the women in our family have always had a little demon in them' malarkey was, it told Willow at least that there was at least a couple generations of witches in Tara's family, and Willow knew for sure that her love would have never stood by and let things like this happen.

Maybe it was because of her own walk on the dark side, how intimately she knew the seduction of black magicks, that Willow was very nearly convinced that there was a lot of evil bubbling in the coven down this way. Maybe everyone down here wasn't a fully lost cause, but they were most certainly lost.

Turning to leave one area and move to another display, Willow happened to glance up toward the glass door in front of her before freezing at the sight of what was on the other side. If it had been a rabid vampire in broad daylight, Willow could have not been any more surprised. Sunglasses and a desperate need for a haircut couldn't change the man she'd known for so many years enough that she wouldn't recognize him on sight and Willow felt her heart leap at the sight of him, even with the door separating them, Willow couldn't help his name slipping passed her lips,

"Oz?"

Daniel Osbourne - Long Time No See

**Templet by Kef**


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Daniel Osbourne
 Posted: Jul 9, 2018 | 7:23 pm
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Scent was probably the strongest of Oz’s heightened senses, if he had to pick one. He’d gotten used to it, for the most part, but scents saturated him all the time. Walking down the street in the French Quarter, he could smell a variety of fragrant flowers, pungent hot tar from the street, the backdrop of something swampy (and slightly putrid). There was a spattering of other smells – other people’s scents, each distinct and unfamiliar.

Willow’s was always a scent that stuck with him. He imagined there were a few reasons for this. He’d just started dating Willow when he had his first cycle, his first turn, and as he’d tried to learn to live with his lycanthropy, they’d continued to date. She’d been the closest person to him, the person he’d spent the most time with, as he was learning to utilize and tame his senses. Naturally, her scent would be one he could readily recognize. Their emotional connection factored in too, he guessed. They’d been in love for a time, so he’d been pretty attached to her. He imagined that formed a link, too, even after all this time.

As he walked down the street, following the scent, he was confident he’d find Willow, or someone close to Willow. He’d caught her scent once on Tara, which had been a shock and had not ended as well as it could have. He was prepared for something like that now, and thankfully had more control of himself.

When Oz got to the front of a store he stopped, not needing to follow his nose anymore. He could see Willow through the door of the shop. His mouth gaped a little in surprise, even though he’d known he’d find Willow or someone who hung around her a lot. Seeing her was different. She looked surprised to see him, too. He heard her say his name even through the door. His hearing was pretty sharp, too. He held up a hand in a casual wave, despite the circumstances. He opened the door, removing the barrier between them.

“Hey,” he said.

His tone was casual, too, as if he saw her every day. His voice had a way of doing that, sounding bored or carefree or dry no matter what was going on inside.

Right now, what was going on inside was his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. He’d imagined running into Willow, trying to figure out how it would go. Would it be awkward? A relief – oh, good, you’re still alive? Would there be bitterness over how distant they’d become? Really, there was no way to prepare for it, and now he was in the middle of it, not sure which way it would go.

Willow Rosenberg
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