TITLE: Love in translation [for Halfamoon 2026] AUTHOR: kerk hiraeth
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer;
RATING: NC-17;
LENGTH: 650;
CHARACTER(s): Kennedy; Tara Maclay;
SHIP(s): Willow/Kennedy (future); Tara Maclay (past;
SUMMARY: Translating people's love language can, on occasion, make the Kobiyashi Maru look easy.
A/N: Still not sure I have a handle on which Buffyverse of mine this belongs in but, given the date when the Rupi Kaur poetry rupikaur.com/pages/milk-and-honey-books was published the earliest date for this scene is 2015. That, at least, fits in with the fic I posted for Day One's The Innocent Prompt.
“Hair, “
Ignoring by the sound of her locker door being closed Kennedy; not bothered enough to cover herself, simply continued to towel herself down as she walked out of the showers.
She came to a sharp stop when she saw who was waiting there though.
Sat right in front of her locker.
She was just sat there.
Studying her.
Checking her out?
She barely moved as Kenn advanced on her carefully, until she was standing over her antagonist.
Bitch actually licked her lips; not bothering to pretend where she was looking, just slid out of Kenn's way so the slayer could get to her locker.
Instead of her underwear Kenn turned from her locker with a note 'twixt her fingers.
Why the fuck had phrase it like that?
“You were saying? “ She asked out loud.
Brazenly licking her lips again, Tara Maclay raised her eyes to meet Kennedy's before she stood; staring right into them.
''hair
if it was not supposed to be there
would not be growing
on our bodies in the first place''
Whatever that was supposed to mean had nothing to do with the obvious.
“Thus spake zarathustra, “ Kenn responded, at which Tara grinned.
Kenn had the feeling she had somehow passed some kind of test. Unable to stop herself she glanced down at her groin.
“You approve?”
Dilated pupils notwithstanding her antagonist said nothing, simply leaning in and laying a kiss on the Kennedy's cheek; away from the fingers holding the note.
Inaudibly, but for proximity, she simply stated, “She lied to you.”
She knew.
Then her eyes seemed to go quiet and she started to walk away.
Just as she appeared about to reach for the handle of the inner door she turned her head slightly; enough for Kenn to see a deeply saddened, melancholic, smile on her face.
“I didn't...”
Tara turned her face toward Kennedy; eyes looking pained and resigned.
“Take care of her. “
She spoke as softly she had when Kenn could feel her breath, but Kenn could hear her clearly.
“I don't understand why she'd want you to believe she was cheating.”
She snorted, or tried to stifle a laugh; Kenn couldn't tell for sure.
She couldn't find the words either.
Why... why would she?
Then Tara was standing right in front of her; reaching out and pinching the note from her fingers. Staring deep into Kennedy's eyes she unfolded the note; turned it text facing her and returned it to Kennedy's hand,
“She's not my problem anymore.”
Take care of her.
For me.
Kenn watched her; speechless, walk funereal over to the inner door.
Take care of her.
For myself?
Grasping the handle; door opening, Tara seemed to be pausing.
Considering.
Fascinated, Kenn watched the decision being processed.
She was still caught by surprise.
“You never stop loving her.”
Statement?
Warning?
Kennedy couldn't tell if she was even the one Tara was talking to.
Tara opened the door and, before she closed it behind her looked Kennedy in the eye again.
“Oxford.
Near Lady Margaret's Hall.
She won't listen, but tell her not to contact me.
I - I'll do that when I am ready.”
As she turned away for the final time she spoke once more.
“I broke up with her months ago...
and
Green?”
Then she shrugged and closed the door with a final wink and a smirk.
Kenn heard her ~ was she skipping? ~ walk away down the corridor to the outer door.
She was whistling.
Kenn had never heard her whistle.
Not recognising the tune*; sounded mediaeval, she found herself committing it to memory.
If Tara was sending her a message she probably needed to decipher this entire locker room talk.
She understood why this quiet, startlingly unassuming, woman commanded such fierce, and unswerving, loyalty at least.
When she gave in to the need to breathe the silence, interrupted, was suddenly deafening.
Kenn finally took a look at the note.
Whatever it meant it was not for her.
“losing you
was the becoming
of myself”
Kennedy let out a loud snort and glanced downward.
“Tell me something.
¿Por qué decidí teñirte?”
Goddess watch over you,
Rupi Kaur
~ foreword note,
'the poems
they're falling out of me
like Rain.'
(April 3rd, 2014. 10.33 pm)
{ right now I feel like I know what she meant }
kerk
* This www.youtube.com/watch is the tune that Tara is whisling at the end. Read into that what you choose.
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