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guiltapalooza[Willow is on her knees in one of the open spaces of the makeshift dining room-- if it could even be called that-- frowning comically into a hollowed, blackened space used as a fire pit in the stone floor. She has a small fire going, mostly embers; that wasn't the problem. And there was a large, shiny stock pot propped on scavenged bits of metal above it, at an appropriate distance.
The problem was what to put in it. She has water in the pot, and a collection of various herb-looking things and a couple scattered, scraggly vegetable-looking things set out on the floor in front of her. She'd done enough exploring with Buffy in the past week or two to find some of the outdoor areas, and rustle up the things that looked like reasonable approximations of cooking ingredients.]
And then Willow poisoned everyone while trying to make soup, [she says to herself under her breath. No, better do an edibility-detecting spell. Was that even a thing? It was now, because she needed one.
She just needed to... do it. Yeah. She could do that. Willow continues to eye her set up, composing the spell in her mind.]
The problem was what to put in it. She has water in the pot, and a collection of various herb-looking things and a couple scattered, scraggly vegetable-looking things set out on the floor in front of her. She'd done enough exploring with Buffy in the past week or two to find some of the outdoor areas, and rustle up the things that looked like reasonable approximations of cooking ingredients.]
And then Willow poisoned everyone while trying to make soup, [she says to herself under her breath. No, better do an edibility-detecting spell. Was that even a thing? It was now, because she needed one.
She just needed to... do it. Yeah. She could do that. Willow continues to eye her set up, composing the spell in her mind.]
