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Rupert Giles


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Oct 21, 2017 | 10:02 am
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Hands tucked deep into his pockets, Giles perused the shelves of the “New Age” store. Much of the winter chill still clung to his bones from the walk here. He had not bothered to even properly open his coat when he came into the shop, still feeling the bite of the wind even inside the protective walls of the supply store. It had been a brief phone call with Willow that had brought him here, with a request to find a legitimate shop of mystical wares. The world had become one where telephone books and word-of-mouth rumors were no longer the way, but he was caught in the generation of those who simply could not navigate the world wide web, so he had asked Willow to use the Google to get a fix on a shop in New York City. She had also mentioned something about Message Boards, and putting up a Post on them to say he was in the city, and she asked if anyone sent him and Electronic Mail, should she send them to him. He saw no reason to say no.

<p>Somethings, though, never changed. When he first entered the store, he had been hit with the aroma of dozens of different kinds of herbs There were shelves of them, all labeled in their jars with handmade description. Scattered about the store were tables with displays. Considering the time of the year, supplies for rituals for the Winter Solstice were front and center. Glass cases displayed other items, ranging from generic tools, to more specific, rare items. His well trained eye picked up on other items, ones that may night be sought out by witches, but rather those that were a little more active with the hidden world of the supernatural.

<p>In the back, there were books and tomes on even more shelves, and it was there that Giles had himself tucked away. The entire place made him nostalgic, with memories of Sunnydale and the Magic Box living front and center. It was an old man's prerogative, to reminisce about simpler times, and, in his own way, mourn their loss. Had he been told that this was the road he would have ended up on, he might not have tried to halt their coming, but he would have tried to hold on just a little longer to them. Instead, he was a man rapidly approaching the age of 60, in a store that was designed with a much younger demographic in mind, wondering id this edge of self discovery that he was on was something to be chased or ignored.

<p>Books were piled on the table in front of him, taking up half of square tabletop. He had selected a few to cross reference and was now crawling through their pages. He did not know if he was going to find many answers here, but he had to start somewhere. All of the resources he had with in his traveling library were ones that were of help to a Watcher. He had nothing that could help a witch... if it even turned out that was what he had become... what he always was? It was that question mark that stayed with him as he researched, quietly, in his little corner of this quaint store. Things did not stay quiet for him long, so he knew this moment would be rare and fleeting.

<p>Maybe... he should try a spell? Something small, but not in the ritualistic way it was required for those not born with magical blood, but in the innate way that came from a witch heritage... He turned through the spell compendium, looking for something that would prove simple, subtle, and safe.

</div><div class='nlyrics'>finding a place to start</div>
 <div class='nsubl'>tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 617 / I am sorry that this took so long to get out. I placed the setting in a kind of neutral way, since I was unsure about Tarwick's plans, but it can definitely get moving more once they join up in the scene.
Jul 24, 2017 | 3:10 pm
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Rupert’s life is certain more interesting whenever Ethan is around. The last time we saw him, Ethan was being dragged away by the Initiative, but it is easy to believe that they could not hold on to him forever, and he has since escaped their custody. Or maybe something happened to him while he was inside, and he was released a “changed man.” I do not know, but that is the fun of playing Ethan!
<p>I am a firm believer in the things that the actors and show creators have said about Giles and Ethan and their past. During his Ripper years, he and Ethan were involved in a relationship, one that was confirmed to at least be sexual in nature, if not romantic. From there on out, I am willing to play their relationship out however any player would like! It can be a legitimate ship, or a hate ship, or just hate, or even friendship. Ethan is a wildcard! Did he escape? Is he on the run? Is he a man seeking redemption? Is he up to his old tricks? Does he want forgiveness from Giles? Or is he looking to pull the man down with him?

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Name: Ethan Rayne

<div style="width: 180px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; word-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #000; font-size: 8px; line-height: 100%; letter-spacing: 2px; "><center>late 40s/early 50s :: warlock :: chaos worshipper
<br><b>Robin Sachs</b></center></div>


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<div style="width: 440px; text-align: right; font-family: arial; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 100%; padding-top: 2px;">THANKS ♥</div>
May 9, 2016 | 12:06 pm
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<div id="resolute"><div class="idea"><div class="CHARname">rupert giles<br>
<div class="CHARstat">watcher | head of the council | still learning | eternally concussed</div></div></div>
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<div class="CHARname2">friends</div>
<p>The entirety of the Scooby Gang, to varying degrees, are the closest friends that Giles has. There is a significant age gap there, but he does feel like they have grown from initial surrogates in his care to full fledge peers with strengths and weaknesses of his own. They have grown in his affections (admittedly, some of them more like a fungus) over the many years of being together. Also, though it has been disbanded as it previously was, many of the members of the Watchers Council were friends and peers. While he knows that there are many who do not agree with him, Giles is still actively seeking out Watchers who were fortunate enough to not be at the Council HQ in London when the First attacked.

<div class="CHARname2">enemies</div>
<p>Giles’ enemies are numerous, but also, fortunately, dead. It many cases, he had a hand in making them so. Enemies of the Slayer also tend to hone in on him as their enemy, and it quite often works that way in reverse. There are many demons of his past, however, that have not been put to rest. While Eghyon had been defeated, Giles is keenly aware that he is not gone forever, and does not look forward to the day that he will return. Until then, though Giles is always working to avert the next apocalypse.

<div class="CHARname2">family</div>
<p>Giles’ parents are both dead, and that’s all he has to say about that. While his relationship with his mother was better than the one he had with his father, that is not saying much. Him and his father never saw eye to eye on anything. It was his grandmother, Edna, that truly shaped him into who he would become. He also has a pair of aunts whom he does not remember well, but who very much remember him…

<p>It must be said that while he initially came to meet her as his slayer, and firmly intended to have a wholly “professional” relationship as slayer and watcher, Giles came to care for Buffy Summers greater than he ever anticipated. There is no mistake that he views her the same way a father would a daughter, and loves her with the same affection. There have been times it has gotten in the way of his duties as a watcher, but he does not regret them. It is also argued that he has this view for many of the other members of the Scooby Gang, though it presents itself in varying degrees.

<div class="CHARname2">lovers</div>
<p>At this point in his life, Giles has firmly given up on love. Romantic relationships never end well for him (and, rest assured, they have always ended.) Some ended in death (Jenny Calendar), the inability to get past their mutual embarrassment (Joyce Summers), fear for their own safety after being exposed to the supernatural world that he lived in (Olivia Williams), or the other becoming a completely disrespectful jerk who didn’t know when it was time to stop playing games (Ethan Rayne.) (Ethan is listed here instead of in “enemies” since he acts more like a jilted ex-lover than an actual foe.) If romance were to come along, it would need to take him completely by surprise. He has been burned too many times, and feels like he has too much work to focus on, anyway, to have time to foster a relationship.

<div class="CHARfoot"><div class="CHARlyrics"> I am the Iron Fist. I hold back the storm when nothing else can.</div></div></div>
<a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/A_THOUSAND_FIREFLIES/index.php?showuser=8378"><div class="credit">c∆f</div></a>
May 6, 2016 | 12:39 pm
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<table id="cont"><div id="titl">RUPERT GILES’ THREADS<h2>This tracker is the work of <a href="http://twitter.com/designsbyrevo">Revo.</a> of <a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/A_THOUSAND_FIREFLIES/index.php?showuser=2133">ATF</a> and <a href="http://rpg-directory.com/index.php?showuser=6066">RPG-D</a>.</h2>
<img src="https://41.media.tumblr.com/1fee2a5b0d6d532f6960b22383b94b7c/tumblr_inline_o0msdicUO71szg1fu_540.jpg" width="525"/>
<h2>watchers, head of the council, eternally concussed</h2></div>

<tr><td valign="middle"><div class="cal"><h1>001</h1><a href="http://thesupernaturallife.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=2500">ACTIVE</a></div></td>
<td valign="top"><div class="desr">
<h1>"you get through the twilight"</h1>
<h2>alec lightwood</h2><i>
((In Progress)) In which Giles proves that he is more than just a silly “mundane…”

Feb 27, 2016 | 2:03 pm
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We'll see it through.
<br>It's what we're always here to do
<br>So we will walk through the fire.

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Water and soap, cold from how long it all had been sitting in the sink, ran out from the pan and down the drain. The sound of the crashing splash and the slowly fading drain were the only things to pierce the still quiet of the apartment, before the silence was back. Rupert Giles watched the water as it disappeared, rushing away from the pots and pans and sinks and off to join some other series of pipes before it would join the ocean… He stood looking at the sink long after the water was gone and the faucet was off. It wasn’t due to some great intellectual or mystical foresight, or pondering, but because his brain had reached a kind of capacity, and there was nothing but numbness that could only be reached in such a mundane, normal observation. Water down the drain.
<p>His inert mind was awoken by the thing that called to his English heart; The tea kettle that had been heating in the stove sputtered then committed to its whistle and let him know that it didn’t needed to be heated anymore, thank you. Giles liked this kettle. It was a particularly polite one. Some kettles were screamers and others barely a titter so it was easy to forget that point. But this one he would be disappointed about leaving behind when it came time to move again. He put the pot down and walked the two paces to the stove to remove the kettle from the heat.
<p>He finished the dishes while the tea seeped, and in a few minutes he was walking out of the kitchen and directly into the living room/library/altar space that was the one room that wasn’t a bedroom and bathroom in this tiny apartment. Most of the space in the room was taken up by the casting circle that he had drawn out in it, but he managed to keep a corner of the room separated by the window with just enough room for a desk and a wing-backed chair. While there was a bedroom with a bed in it, he preferred to spend his time in the living room, dancing around the edges of the casted circle. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Buffy alone.
<p>The girl in question had been unconscious now for several days, just this side of a week, and while there had been moments when he was concerned for her, so far she had been, for the most part, stable. At least, she was as stable as a person in a state of astral transdimensional travel could be. They hadn’t gotten to the point where he should be worried about how long she was gone. The Trials were not known to be an easy thing, and time worked differently in all layers of Hell.
<p>They were, however, getting to the point where Giles needed to wonder about where his next meal would be coming from. It was this thought that occurred to him as his skittered around the edges of the circle, settle into his chair by the window, resolve to finish reading the next chapter of his book, and promptly fall asleep. He knew because he blinked for a moment and the sun went from being sometime around late afternoon to being completely gone, and, even more tragic, his tea got cold
<p>Well, that was an afternoon well spent... After he firmly woke up with a start, which was really the only proper way for a slightly paranoid Englishman to wake up, and remembered where he was, he tossed the book aside, slung a disapproving look at his tea cup, and rose from the chair. He stood cautiously, moving only just slightly, and looking down at the sleeping girl... young woman... in the room. The only light of the room came from the flickering candles placed around the circle that encased Buffy Summers. He didn't need to worry about them burning down or going out. Their position in the active ritual meant that magic had a clear hold on them. Technically, he didn't need to worry about Buffy's safety. Not really. Even if someone came in here to harm her, he had made sure to cast extra protections on the apartment and the circle beyond the measure in place from the Demon Trials ritual itself.
<p>He had taken every precaution. He knew Buffy was the Slayer. Even if there were many in the world now, she would still be “the.” For all intents and purposes, she could take care of herself. That wasn't it. The idea of losing her (again) was not a mistake that he could bare to face. She trusted him to protect her now, and he wasn't going to fail in that. His musings, before they could take a predictably dark turn, were put on halt when he stomach reminded him that he had been hungry when the sun went down, and his little nap hadn't really helped him in that department.
<p>He needed to leave. The apartment was short on food, and man could not live on tea alone. He knew, were she awake, Buffy would tell him to get something to eat, but he didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. Worse, though, was the idea of ordering food and having it come to them. The door had a clear view of the living room, and Giles didn't feel like explaining to some wide eyed delivery boy why he had an unconscious twenty-five year old woman sitting in a runic circle in the middle of his floor. So out for proper groceries it would have to be.
<p>He checked the charms and protections two more times before he left, and checked the lock on the door thrice. He would need to be quick, and he thought he remembered seeing a grocer some two blocks down. The worst part would be walking in this February chill...
<p>Twenty minutes later, he was almost back with several bags in hand. He had been doing his best to not look at his watch or in the general direction of the apartment every thirty seconds. He managed to keep it to five, and only look like an English prick with better places to be, as opposed to a paranoid foreigner who looked hopelessly lost. Pulling his coat closer around him, he pushed on and came to the correct building. He was about to let himself inside when something stopped him. It wasn't something particularly noticeable. More like a shift in the direction of the wind, but...
<p>He turned away from the door and walked to the corner of the building. The wall to the nearby alley was made up on one side by the wall that held the window to the apartment Buffy was in. Looking down the alley, it was hard to tell, but he was certain there was something there, and it felt like it was something that shouldn't be. Since they was not some casual Sunday stroll he was on, he knew better than to ignore that gut feeling.
<p>Without a word but with his groceries still in tow, he made his way into the alley, sidestepping slowly, and prepared for he knew not what.

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<center>notes: starter!
<br>words: 1206| tag: alec, open </center>

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