16297/Heart of Shadows: Talk About a Bad Neighborhood

Heart of Shadows: Talk About a Bad Neighborhood
Date of Scene:	24 May 2024
Location:	Brendan Cemetery, Sunnydale
Synopsis:	Gwen comes to Sunnydale looking for answers. She leaves with a lot more questions.
Cast of Characters:	Ghost Spider, Buffy Summers
Tinyplot:	Heart of Shadows

---

Ghost Spider has posed:
"Go to Sunnydale, they said..."

There's a Ghost in the cemetery, and she's muttering to herself as she dances from the top of one large monument to another like she's playing some messed up game of 'the floor is lava.'

"...it's always sunny in Sunnydale, they said..."

*Thwip*

A web line streaks through the dark and smacks into the top of a museum. Ghost-Spider uses the tension to _yank_ herself forward, flying an extra hundred feet to perch on the top of a particularly narrow column-style marker.

Oddly enough, she's also stopping at the top of each one and (sometimes, having to turn herself upside down and crawl down it), using the light of a phone that she pulls out of an abdomen-area-pocket to check the plaque on each one. (Though where the phone actually sits is anyone's guess... the black-and-white suit is so tight it seems like the outline should show up.)

"...well, it's not. It's like a freaking horror movie up in here."

The only real light she has to guide her on her midnight trek is the full moon overhead and the way it illuminates the patchy layer of fog that Gwen seems to be trying to avoid like the plague. Because who wants to go traipsing around in the mud in some creepy cemetery in the middle of the night?

Not Gwen, that's for sure.

She's on her dozenth monument when she lets out a sigh.

"_The Heart will guide you?_" she mutters. "Well, it's not doing a very good job right now..."

Buffy Summers has posed:
"Well, that might depend on whose heart you should be following," comes a suave voice from out of the fog. Masculine, deep, a hint of humor perhaps.

Through the fog appears a dark silhouette at first. Broad of shoulders and chest narrowing to a smaller waist and then disappearing into that fog that swirls around the figure with each step he takes forward. Then he steps into a moonbeam, illiminating him fully.

He fits the 'idealized' idea of male beauty, with his symmetrical features. His blond hair is worn slightly long, just enough to curl at the collar of his clothing. He's wearing a charcoal gray suit but in this light, it likely appears to be black. A modern cut but off the shelf, not something designer or tailored to him. Yet, he wears it well. His eyes are a pale blue, like the depths of a glacier, though quite a few degrees warmer than the ice they resemble. He gives her a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before." If he means Sunnydale, it might be an odd statement. While it is certainly a small suburb of a town compared to the bigger neighboring cities in the tri-state area, it isn't small-town-America where everyone knows everyone else either. Or maybe he means the cemetery. Though that would imply he is there often meeting people. Which is far more odd than the city angle.

"I'm pretty familiar with the stones. I have loved ones here." He waves a hand in an oddly graceful manner at the area round them. "Is there something I might help you find?"

Ghost Spider has posed:
As if hit with a freeze-ray, Ghost-Spider's whole body stills at an awkward, unnatural, half-upside down angle. It leaves her hood sagging under gravity (though not falling off -- never falling off), both teal slipper clad feet and one hand still on the monument, and one hand still clutching her phone.

The eerie blue light from the screen bathes the white parts of her costume in a cyan tinted glow -- at least for the next few seconds.

She's still perched there, as effortlessly as one might lean against the wall while waiting for the subway, masked face turned in the direction of the voice... when the screen times out and turns off... just in time for the man to step into the light.

The first movement, then, is the widening of her over-sized, expressive white eyes. She wasn't expecting to find anyone in a cemetery in the middle of the night. She certainly wasn't expecting to find some kind of Abercrombie model.

"What a coincidence," she finally taunts, tucking her phone back into that pocket without otherwise righting herself, "I haven't seen you here before, either."

Because she's never been here, before. Get it?

Yeah. Not her best line, but she's writing it off to a sudden, inexplicable weakness for confident, well dressed men that short-circuits her brain.

Mental note: Buy Peter a suit.

_If your schedules ever sync up again... not like you've seen him a lot, recently..._

She shakes her head as if to clear it and finally releases her grip on the monument, flipping lightly down to the ground, but as hot as the guy is, she's still wary, making sure to keep her distance from him.

"I'm... not sure," she says. "I wasn't expecting a tour guide. Is this a frequent haunt for you? Cause, I'm not gonna lie, this is _kind of_ a weird place to be chilling in a suit unless you're... you know... stuck here."

Buffy Summers has posed:
That got a little laugh from him as he shook his head, the smile only making him even that much more attractive. For those into those sorts of looks. Some preferred lab coats, after all. But he seemed easy going enough and she wasn't getting any tingles that he was a threat. At least, not at this moment. He was a good distance away still and he stopped there that perfect moonbeam, as though aware that to approach too close or fade back into the darkness and fog might be uncomfortable for her.

"Stuck here? An interesting phrasing. Are we not all stuck here in some way or another?" That smirk was just ridiculous. "Though I believe you mean this in a more literal than philosophical sense. If you are asking if I am a spirit bound to this location, that is a yes and a no. I am a spirit. I am not bound to the cemetery. The city itself does seem to be as far as I can go but that isn't so terrible as fates might go."

He seemed human. Material. Not some ephereal ghost. Yet, he was saying he was something of that sort at the very least. "Though what brings you to a cemetery in a town that is not known for being safe after dark...after dark." That humor again. "I would think you could be searching during the daylight when it would be less dangerous. Unless there is a time concern involved in which case, I can be of assistance. I was not exaggerating about having loved ones in this place. Both those who are asleep and others, like myself, who wander."

Ghost Spider has posed:
Gwen's mask hides her furrowed brow, but her posture straightens just a bit, betraying her curiosity. An attractive, seemingly corporeal spirit bound to the city? That's new, even for her.

"Okay, so you're saying you're a ghost... but not, like, a ghost-ghost?" She tilts her head, the expressive eyes of her mask narrowing. "This place gets weirder by the minute."

She takes a cautious step forward, but not too close, still keeping a safe distance. "I'm here on a bit of a scavenger hunt," she explains, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness. "I'm looking for a marker that's supposed to have some kind of... I don't really know. Whatever it is, it's only supposed to show up under the full moon. So, yeah, it's kind of a time-sensitive thing... sunlight's a no-go for this one."

Gwen glances around the cemetery a moment, at the eerie shadows stretching out into the fog from the tombstones and the trees. "So, if you're not bound to this spot, but you hang around here... got any tips? Like, maybe you've seen a marker that says, 'Follow your Heart'? Because that's all I've got to go on, and I gotta say, this place isn't exactly giving me warm, fuzzy feelings."

She pauses.

"No offense. I mean, I'm sure it's a very lovely spot to be eternally bound. Compared to some of the alternatives. It could have been a trash dump, right? I mean, imagine if you were stuck in Jersey..."

Humor is the answer to everything, it seems. Including talking to WTF SPIRITS in the middle of a cemetery.

She shifts her weight, ready to spring into action if needed, but her stance is mostly still relaxed. "So are you like... _really_ a spirit? Cause, not gonna lie, people call me Ghost-Spider, but that has _nothing_ to do with me knowing how to deal with ghosts. You'd be my first, actually."

Buffy Summers has posed:
"I know of several markers that have hearts on them. I can show you those. Yet, I feel like that might be a bit too obvious for something supposed to be hidden away." His own brow furrowed a bit then he shrugged. "I cannot say that I have ever looked to see if they differ under moonlight though. We shall see. Come."

And he turned to move away, leading to the next row over of headstones. Some were the more modern, just a flat plate on the ground with the details. Some were more elaborate. Then there were the mausoleums though they were a bit distant from their current position. An active cemetery but one that had been around a few centuries by the dates.

"Perhaps an understanding of the source might help in interpretation? I used to be very good at solving things. Back in the day." He glanced over at her, making sure she was following. As they walked and spoke, he would point out specific stones for her to check that might fit the criteria he had so far.

And to answer you question yes, I am a spirit. I've been here..." He paused and thought hard. "I'm not really sure how long. Time is somewhat different for me as I'm not always in this plane. Though I am curious why they call you a Ghost Spider if you are not a ghost or related to them in any way. Is it an actual species of spider that you share traits with? Is that perhaps why you wear the costume you wear, to hide your appearance?"

Ghost Spider has posed:
Sure. Follow the strange spirit (_maybe_, the jury's still out) through an unfamiliar graveyard.

What could possibly go wrong?

_Is it an actual species of spider that you share traits with?_

"Too on the nose?"

Also, it's _definitely_ not because she was having an emo-teenager-day when she realized that she needed a name for her secret identity and 'Spider-Woman' was already taken. Given both the type of spider and the fact that she was _basically invisible_ next to the exiting Spider-Woman, it was sort of an easy choice, at the time.

And she _still_ gets called Spider-Woman!

All. The. Time.

"As for clues, I'm trying to help a friend. With a thing."

She pauses a beat.

"I know that's not really helpful. I'm... it's sort of a long story? And if I'm being honest, I don't really understand it myself. But, she's a kid, and I wasn't going to let _her_ go digging around here in the middle of the night."

Another pause.

"Not literally. I'm not a grave robber."

Another pause.

"I don't think. I mean, I guess it could be underground. I hope not. I didn't really bring a shovel."

She sighs, stopping to crouch for a moment near a small headstone, brushing some of the dirt off affectionately.

"You know, I just realized that this technically qualifies as a ghost tour..."

Yeah. The puns don't stop coming to her just because she's not fighting Rhino or Vulture.

Buffy Summers has posed:
"So you have four to eight pair of eyes under there but just do the mask to make it seem otherwise?" He tilted his head again as he considered her before pausing before another headstone with a lovely flower and heart design for the Loving Wife and Daughter who was buried there. The name was Lilly Bronson. Explained why most of the flowers were of the lilly family perhaps. Though having a Lilly as a favorite flower while being named Lilly seemed a bit on the nose. One had to wonder if she actually hated the things perhaps and this was a familial choice. Or worse they just said flowers and the maker of the tombstone had an ironic sense of humor.

"Though I suppose with there being two Spider-Women titles already in use, it was for the best to go with something original. Though you might want to play up the ghost angle, if you can find a way. I don't know what sort of fancy tech is out in the world these days. I presume you have powers of some sort or tech. Or you just like spandex. Not judging." He raised his hands to be sure she wasn't thinking that was a negative comment at her wearing of spandex in public.

"So the friend told you to follow your heart? Or was that the instructions that tied into what they are looking for in some way?"

Ghost Spider has posed:
"No, I do _not_ have eight eyes!"

Those big, white costume eyes blink, deadpan.

How do they blink?

It's one of those tech things. Or maybe it's magic.

"I'm completely normal under here, thank-you-very-much."

Pausing, she rubs the side of her neck.

"I mean... _completely normal_ might be a stretch, all things considered, but I _look_ completely normal."

She stands, though, hands going to her hips as she faces the too-attractive 'spirit' in the suit.

"What are you, a ghost that watches CNN?" She actually sounds a little testy. It was probably the spandex dig. "How do you even know there are other Spider-Women, anyway? And yes, I have tech! The suit's only spandex because it helps me move. It's called air resistance. Look it up."

She _technically_ only has her web-spinners, but they use water vapor instead of cartridges like Peter's! So that's pretty cool. She _was_ working on some cool chameleon-camo tech with Nadia, but then that sort of fell by the wayside when she got busy. And Nadia got busy. Maybe Stark could help her pick that back up... as if he'd have time. She only met him once, at Peter's birthday party, but then she was so busy trying to wrangle nano-controlled dinosaur skeletons that she didn't really get a chance to chat.

Also, you'd think someone getting their doctorate in Molecular Biochemistry would have a more stinging retort ready than _It's called air resistance. Look it up._

But there's a lot going on right now.

Not the least of which, her conflicted emotions about arguing with a catty ghost that looks like he stepped out of a GQ magazine.

"The second one. I mean, technically the first one, but not in the inspirational way. There's something weird going on, and I'm trying to figure out what it is before..." It's too late? Before whatever happens that brought her to New York from Louisiana 'blows up,' whatever that looks like? "...look, I realize I don't exactly have a lot to go on. We're sort of in the beginning phases of this investigation."

Buffy Summers has posed:
Oh now she did it. Because if she thought he was insufferable before stepping onto her touchy-subject of the Spider-Woman moniker, she was about to get the full brunt of it as he said the inevitable words.

"You're cute when you're angry."

But then he continued toward the next headstone as though he hadn't just dropped that bomb in her lap. Of course, he didn't have a body so if she got violent, it wasn't like he was in any danger.

The next headstone that might fit the bill had several hearts. Two in the lower right corner, two in the upper lift. It was a couple's shared pair of plots with a single headstone between them. Loving Husband and Wife. Tom and Bethany Welling. They had each lived to be in their 90s and she passed about four months after he did. True love perhaps reflected in marble. Though his next words perhaps tempered the anger the 'cute' comment may have drawn. "I'll be sure to look that up though. I like learning new things. The library is one of my favorite haunts." That smile again. "Pun fully intended." Then on to address the rest of her comments. "I used to watch CNN. Not as much anymore. It seems to have gone downhill in the last ten years or so." Which gives a little more hint how long he's been ghosting around these parts.

Then he turned his head sharply to the side, suddenly smiling as though seeing an old friend. Not that there was anyone there for Gwen to see. But the illusion that was the case continued as he spoke. "Oh yes, this is Ghost-Spider. She is new around here. I'm trying to help her with a mystery." A long pause as though he was listening then a terse nod. "Perhaps you might help? There is something that is supposed to appear on a grave headstone only under moonlight, if you are familiar with such a thing? And 'the heart will guide you' is the only other clue we have at the moment."

He listened intently then gave a sage nod. "I didn't think about that angle. We'll have to try that if this doesn't work out. Thank you."

Ghost Spider has posed:
_You're cute when you're angry._

"I am not _cute_!!"

Gloved, stark white fingers curl into little fists by her side as Ghost-Spider's posture goes rigid. Comically over-sized eyes squint to slits.

"I am a _professional_ who's here on a _mission_."

Thank God the suit can't blush for her.

She might have considered violence, but then she'd be assaulting the only person -- no, _spirit_ -- who was able to help her. _If_ he was actually helping her, and not just leading her around on a wild goose chase. At least the markers did have markings closer to what she was looking for than what she was finding on her own, using the brute-force method.

Body language is so telling, though. Especially when the facial expressions are reduced to eye shapes, everything else is amplified -- how board straight she stands, how her fingers curl... even how her head tilts just a fraction of an inch when he moves past it and just tacitly accepts her intended insult as something he should look up. Not to mention the whole CNN thing, which was _supposed_ to be a joke.

"Are you _always_ this impossible?"

The words are out just before whatever 'friend' arrives. Gwen had relaxed just enough to check the marker for oddities herself when she noticed the movement, watching the interaction from one bended knee. Her eyes shift from the spirit she _can_ see to the one she can't... which means she's looking at nothing. Then back and forth that way, several times.

Several seconds pass after that _thank you_ before she stands again, brushing a bit of dirt off of her costume.

"Okay... two things real quick. One, what was that? And two, are you even really a spirit? Or are you just a crazy person that walks around cemeteries at night and talks to himself? Because I am going to be _so_ mad if you're messing with me. You have no idea. Like..." Her hands come up to her hooded head and make a little explosion mime.

Buffy Summers has posed:
"This is," He turned his head toward the blank air then his expression fell. "Was. Guess it was time to cross back over for a bit." Then back to what he was expressing. "That was Mr. and Mrs. Welling. Even now, they are always together. Come back to check on the family from time to time. I suspect they are on their way to see the great grandkids as we speak." Since they had disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The oddities of being a spirit perhaps.

"Mrs. Welling had a thought about a specific grave here. If theirs doesn't have your picture on it." Since they didn't seem to know of anything that appeared on their own headstone only in the moonlight either. But the hint, that is what brought them to the thought he now shared. "I think it might be a good possibility if you will humor my company for a few more moments. Despite my being impossible." The laughter once more reflected in his pale blue eyes as he smiled at her.

"If I were a crazy person, I would not be aware of it but if you will be so kind as to not have your head explode, I can prove that I am not human. Per se. At least, not in the way that corporeal beings are. I am indeed a spirit of someone who was once human though." He brought up three fingers of his right hand in some sort of salute. "Scouts' honor." And all things considered, he probably could've been a boy scout. Who could tell for sure.

The grave he led her to was different from the others. It was further away, off in a corner under a tree. The stone was damaged and looked like it had not be etched professionally. More like someone had done it by hand, thus the irregularities. And there were only two words on it along with a date.

My Beloved
1823

Nothing more.

"There is a tale of the woman buried here. She was murdered and her love never was able to find out who did it. No one brought to justice. We see her here sometimes but she won't speak to any of us. Just seems sad and disappears after a short time. Perhaps she is where the heart is guiding, to this lost love?"

Ghost Spider has posed:
A soft breath passes through Gwen's mask.

On the off chance that these _were_ real people -- just real _dead_ people -- she couldn't exactly bring herself to keep hurling insults and disbelief. If there _were_ ghosts walking around (and she'd seen enough to have a hard time believing that ghosts were that far fetched... not the least of which was the Ectomobile racing around New York and doing whatever _they_ do), they still deserved respect.

...unless they try to eat her face off, which didn't seem likely, at this point.

"Fine," she mumbles in response to his mention of humoring his company a bit longer, eyes having softened to something like sympathy. Begrudgingly, she adds, "...Thank you, for helping me."

That didn't mean she _believed_ him. Not completely. But it did mean that she had some pretty easy to tug heart strings, and she didn't like being mean or rude just for the sake of it. It's hard to balance that, sometimes... the kindness in her heart with the fear of being taken advantage of. It makes so many people callous, unpleasant, frigid. Yet, Gwen holds onto that shard of innocence like her life depends on it, refusing to mistrust everyone around her just because some people are truly awful.

The ground is soft under her feet as she follows along, eyes still scanning, those Spidey-senses still on high alert. She liked being above the fog. In it, even though it was only lingering in patches, it felt claustrophobic.

The story is captivating, though, and it's the closest thing to _anything_ that Gwen's heard or seen that resembles an answer to the riddle.

"Sunnydale Cemetery... The heart will guide you... only appears in the moonlight..."

She shrugs, hands coming up at her sides.

"I haven't seen anything that fits any better. But, I also don't know how to talk to ghosts."

If only she knew someone who did.

"Present company excepted, of course."

Her head tilts a little, eyes smiling since her lips can't through the mask.

"Thank you, for this. Honestly, I think there's a good chance we might be on the right track."

Buffy Summers has posed:
"I hope it is what you seek. And can help you and your friend," he said sincerely. Though then he turned his head again, that sudden motion of something unexpected this time as his eyes narrowed. "Get your images quickly and depart. The demons are coming."

And that didn't sound like it was a fun colorful choice of words. He sounded serious as a heart attack that might've killed him.

"Though they wear the skins of humans, they no longer have the soul and they feed on the living." He looked back to her in concern. "We have no power over them to stop them and the ones who can are not here yet tonight." Not a Slayer to be seen apparently.

"I will continue to try to speak to her when she appears, to see if I can learn anything for you before your next visit."

Ghost Spider has posed:
"_Demons_?"

And why wouldn't there be demons coming?

Even as the spirit explains what he means by 'demon,' Gwen's already pulling her phone back out, capturing an image of the gravestone (complete with geotag so she can find it again later).

"Yeah. That sounds like my cue to skedaddle. Thanks again, and..."

What do you say to a ghost?

"...I'm sorry you're dead. You're kinda okay."

Beat.

"For a ghost, I mean."

She's definitely smiling. The eyes give it away.

But without wasting any more time, Ghost-Spider takes a few jogging steps and then flips up onto the top of one monument, using it to springboard herself up to another, and another. Before long, she's back to racing across the tops of them until she can *thwip* a web-line out to a tree.

Then she's swinging for home.

And, apparently, she had a call to make.