I couldn't sleep, so have this.
Oct. 6th, 2016 04:54 amBuffy the Vampire Slayer is all about averting the end of the world. Always Coming Home is what happens after. I've looked around and there doesn't seem to yet be a crossover between these two works. It wouldn't take much to make it happen, either: just the vampires staying around to see the world speed up and slow back down. Saying they remember when the world was cold, when humans come to speak with them.
Fewer humans means far fewer vampires - the ones who've stayed on, through everything, live in a loosely-connected society of their own now, if predator animals like tigers can have what's called society. If what was described in the Le Guin short story "Solitude" can be called society. Which it is. It's just hard for humans to see it. The remaining vampires each have their own individual territories for hunting and protecting - large spaces fiercely guarded and well defined. A settled vampire have to defend their territories from the rare incursion from other vampires looking to oust them and claim it for themselves, and what demons remain that want to harm their humans. Most humans know how to set up protections and defenses the way most humans know how to navigate by the stars at night. But sometimes the vampire helps out in their own way, usually without anyone knowing.
Sometimes another vampire comes by for company. And, like the humans in "Solitude," they'll see each other for a while, and then go off and be alone again and still be happy.
Cold people. Night people. People outside the word dance. People with their own dance.
It's easy for me to imagine a version of Always Coming Home with small references and warnings scattered throughout and a dedicated segment in one of the reference chapters about them, and the proper protocols for dealing with them. What to do when you find a dessicated deer carcass in the woods hung up somewhere for people to notice. How some other places will put out an animal for their vampire, a calf or kid to keep the cow or goat in milk. How to approach them, if you want to talk, and how to set out the proper offerings to see to that. Because they've got stories to share, long stories, because they've lived a very long time. Some of them have walked on the bottom of the Inland Sea - not by weighing themselves down to stay under the water, though a few have done that. No, they walked on the bottom of the Inland Sea back when it was dry. That's how old they are.
The world will never be that cold or that dry again, they'll say.
I can see Spike in this role, following the lessons he got centuries ago in a town that's currently a deep underwater cavern from people barely referenced in the Archives. He found a new place like that town, and held to the memories of those who've gone, and set his claim on the territory. And sometimes people come to him to talk. His hair's back to being brown and curly, and he sometimes comes into town for the festivals and the music. Not to eat or hunt, though; you don't do that in a town. Not here, not with the way the world is now. He knows he's not welcome - nobody welcomes him, nobody invites him, he'd be upset if anyone did because they should know better than that. Sometimes, though, when he talks to the people that are around now, he's glad to be such a long-lived creature. It's given him time to see the world change.
Fewer humans means far fewer vampires - the ones who've stayed on, through everything, live in a loosely-connected society of their own now, if predator animals like tigers can have what's called society. If what was described in the Le Guin short story "Solitude" can be called society. Which it is. It's just hard for humans to see it. The remaining vampires each have their own individual territories for hunting and protecting - large spaces fiercely guarded and well defined. A settled vampire have to defend their territories from the rare incursion from other vampires looking to oust them and claim it for themselves, and what demons remain that want to harm their humans. Most humans know how to set up protections and defenses the way most humans know how to navigate by the stars at night. But sometimes the vampire helps out in their own way, usually without anyone knowing.
Sometimes another vampire comes by for company. And, like the humans in "Solitude," they'll see each other for a while, and then go off and be alone again and still be happy.
Cold people. Night people. People outside the word dance. People with their own dance.
It's easy for me to imagine a version of Always Coming Home with small references and warnings scattered throughout and a dedicated segment in one of the reference chapters about them, and the proper protocols for dealing with them. What to do when you find a dessicated deer carcass in the woods hung up somewhere for people to notice. How some other places will put out an animal for their vampire, a calf or kid to keep the cow or goat in milk. How to approach them, if you want to talk, and how to set out the proper offerings to see to that. Because they've got stories to share, long stories, because they've lived a very long time. Some of them have walked on the bottom of the Inland Sea - not by weighing themselves down to stay under the water, though a few have done that. No, they walked on the bottom of the Inland Sea back when it was dry. That's how old they are.
The world will never be that cold or that dry again, they'll say.
I can see Spike in this role, following the lessons he got centuries ago in a town that's currently a deep underwater cavern from people barely referenced in the Archives. He found a new place like that town, and held to the memories of those who've gone, and set his claim on the territory. And sometimes people come to him to talk. His hair's back to being brown and curly, and he sometimes comes into town for the festivals and the music. Not to eat or hunt, though; you don't do that in a town. Not here, not with the way the world is now. He knows he's not welcome - nobody welcomes him, nobody invites him, he'd be upset if anyone did because they should know better than that. Sometimes, though, when he talks to the people that are around now, he's glad to be such a long-lived creature. It's given him time to see the world change.