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Who: Lana Luthor & YOU
What: Returning home from Libet with the first group.
When: November 20th [Afternoon & Evening].
Where: In the city and at Lana's house.
Rating: PG-13, at least. Half the people she knows are vulgar douchebags.

Lana still wasn't sure if the trip could be considered a success of any kind, or just another remote failure. So many things had been discovered, and so many new questions brought to the surface, and yet once again there were no answers. At least, none that the expedition members could understand yet. Maybe they just needed time.

But while she had been obsessed with the mystery while it was going on, now she just wanted to go home. She was certainly smarting all over, though it wasn't surprising. Along with the minor bumps and scrapes gained along the rest of the trip and that damn animal attack, the train crash at the end had really given everyone a run for their money. Compared to many others, Lana had turned out fairly lucky injury-wise. No broken limbs or gaping wounds.

Maybe the being knocked out part hadn't been fun, but she was hardly a stranger to that. Apparently she had been carried part of the way back by someone, and waking up to that and a roaring migraine wasn't as alarming as it used to be, but it was a bit confusing when she realized not everyone was together. She had accepted the standard first-aid, but refused any magical cure once crossing the border. She just wanted to go home, and right now that stupid house in that stupid city was the closest thing she had to one. Lana'd had enough of unpredictable magic for one week. One lifetime.

At the very least she needed to make a note to thank Ray and Jet.

[ ooc; Sooo open to anyone, and brackets are fine if you prefer, I don't care! I will go with the flow. I separated it into two sections in the comments since obviously random CR wouldn't come to her house. ]

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Lana has looked, and felt, better. Her stride is actually a normal pace, but then that's all part of the pain-resistance training, isn't it? Honestly right now she wants to say it can go blow itself, but she's not that vulgar. The limp is still a bit hard to hide completely, but it's subtle. Her appearance alone might be enough to scare off the average bystander.

She's changed into her spare clothes (considering the others had been torn in the crash), but they were the ones she'd worn during the first half of the expedition, so they, along with her, are covered in dirt, mud, sweat, and splatters of something dark and sticky. The only thing keeping her hair from looking like total crap is that ponytail, not to mention it helps hide the bump she sustained. She's got a few scrapes and bruises, a few band-aids here and there, but nothing visibly serious. ...Basically she looks a lot like everyone else who returned today.

Really, it's her somewhat deadpan expression that's more of a warning than anything, her attempt to tune out the stress and the headache as she moves along the streets of the city. Of course, even all that may not stop some people!

Edited 2011-11-21 21:30 (UTC)

Cross forgot about time, whoops, and is now going through town to head back to the castle. Of course, he took a shortcut and now believes he simply did a 180 and is no closer to the stupid castle. Women and drinks do that to a guy.

Ah, whatever, it was a nice night out.

He shall notice Lana as he rounds a corner — not that he can tell it's her from the distance between them.

Meanwhile it's more than easy for Lana to spot him. Not many people have that hair, man. She isn't really looking to socialize right now, but since she did just get patched up and she hasn't seen Cross in awhile, she finds herself slowing anyway, lifting her hand to begin a wave.

And then she looks a little harder, noticing that his stride isn't as....graceful as normal. Assuming he's either drunk or injured, and either is worth investigating, she closes the distance much more quickly, waving again to try to get his attention.

"Cross?"

Almost as soon as she unlocks the door and steps through into the foyer, she feels better. The semi-shredded and now half empty pack is dropped on the floor and she crouches down to greet the black lab puppy that yaps and bounds over to greet her excitedly. Of course there's a chance Damon or Crowley might be lurking about, so she calls out to see if anyone responds a few times while checking the rooms. She knows both of them had offered to drop by occasionally to feed Shadow and let him out, and she really hopes neither of them are there right now.

Once satisfied that she has some blessed privacy, Lana immediately heads for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door (one never knows with her companions) and stripping off her clothes. Rather, peeling them off is what it seems more like, and it sucks. At least now she has a chance to actually survey the damage in the mirror, and it makes her wince. Underneath her clothes, she really does look like one big walking bruise, a mix of old and new. Perhaps the training with Wesley and Buffy should be held off for awhile, because Lana's ready to admit she's cooked and done for the time being.

Especially once her (painstaking) bath is through, the small bandages are re-applied, and she's in her soft robe, she definitely decides she is done with being an adventurer...at least for the rest of the week. Collapsing onto her bed and hugging her pillow, before she even has a chance to crawl under the covers, Lana's fast asleep, little Shadow curled up at her feet.

She hasn't even had the chance to let everybody know she's back, so she isn't exactly expecting visitors. Who knows if she'll even wake up at the doorbell or a phone call, but it's worth a try. She has a dog to help wake her up, after all!

He wasn't sure how he ended up in these tense situations with Lana, but he was as stubborn as she was, so he wasn't going to just give in. She was someone from back home that he knew he could rely on - even if he wasn't quite sure about her judgement about dangerous people.

The truth was that Damon was dangerous. Oliver was friends with Fred and Cordelia and even though he had opted to keep the incidents that he'd heard about from Cordelia as a personal matter, he still wasn't comfortable with him being close to Lana. It reminded him of Lex. Of how Lana was sure she had it under control and yet all Oliver could be stuck with was the memory that he was the one that made the choice - that took the risk. He was the one that killed Lex.

He swallowed all of that down, though, and made Lana some soup. The trip he'd heard wasn't the best of situations and he figured that a bit of homemade might be something good.

Making his way up to the front door, he knocks first and after a rousing series of Shadow barking and not hearing any footsteps, he opts to ring the doorbell. He will restrain himself from breaking the door down, for now.

She wakes to the distant sound of puppy barks, which really aren't all that alarming, but certainly sharp and impossible to ignore. Then it gets sharper, and she quickly realizes that part's actually the doorbell.

Groggy and a bit confused on what time it is, Lana slides out of bed and hugs her robe tighter about her figure, tightening the sash and combing her fingers through her hair as she trudges down the stairs and over to the door.

Having already seen that it was Oliver from her security monitor, she unlocks the deadbolt and chain before making him wait any longer, but she makes a point of not opening the door quite all the way, blinking out at him as she again tries to judge the time of day by the light, or lack thereof.

"Oliver? What is it?"

He frowns a bit at the lack of full-door opening, but he's pretty sure he woke her up. There's instant regret.

In a peace offering gesture, he lifts his hand up to reveal the small container of soup. It's not exactly small, but it's still soup. "I come with soup. I made it myself." See, he can make more than just breakfast foods.

Raising an eyebrow curiously, Lana doesn't seem to really know what to say to that. He must have known that others had returned and come looking for her. Really, this was her fault for not announcing it in the journal before trying to get some sleep.

Still, she's curious, so after an amiable glance at the soup, she shuts the door. After a moment, she opens it all the way and steps back to allow him in, as well as let Shadow paw at his heels properly.

"What is it, chicken noodle?"

There was a bit of relief on his features when she re-opened the door to let him him. Stretching down a bit, he petted Shadow as he moved into the house. He was trying to be on his best behavior.

"Yeah, bit heavy on the broth." Also, whenever she goes to eat it, she'll notice that somehow he managed to get stars, instead of plain noodles. Oliver Queen, man of mystery and culinary skills to wow the world.

"I thought you might not be up for cooking and this is just something easy to reheat."

It's hours after Fred has returned home and arrived on his doorstep and filled him in. Hours after she showered and slept soundly in his bed.

He wants to check up on Lana, but has been careful to give her space and time to regroup. It certainly sounds like it's been a bit of an ordeal. For all of them.

When he knocks, it's with a small basket tucked under his arm. Hopefully he's not disturbing her...

Not really expecting even more company after Oliver, Lana still hasn't been able to get back to sleep. So she's changed into her red satin pajamas proper, trying to read a simple book she's already read a thousand times. Comfort food for the soul, as it were.

She's once again alerted to a guest's presence by Shadow's barking just before the knocks sound out, and she sighs wearily before standing back up and moving to see who's there.

When she opens the door, Lana has a pleasant smile on her face, seeming unsurprised that he's dropped by. "Wesley, hi. Come on in."

"Hello. I'm not intruding am I?" Wes eyes her pajamas, deciding that he must be. "I just wanted to drop off a few things to welcome you back home again. Fred's debriefed me on what you found. I am glad you're both back in one piece, relatively speaking. If you're still in need of rest I can always come back later."

He holds out the basket, which has: fresh fruit, baked muffins, croissants, and other breakfast-y items.

Shaking her head, she closes the door long enough to undo the chain, and opens it all the way, standing back so that he can enter.

"Not at all. I was just trying to unwind after the trip. Come on in." She accepts the basket curiously, though a little warily. What was with people bringing her food? "I'm guessing you're interested in the photographs I took?"

He steps over the threshold, then notices her puppy. He's never had a pet of his own and so he sort of looks down at it with the awkwardness of someone who isn't sure whether he ought to pet it or not. "Yes, I am. Although, I was thinking that if you liked the idea we could perhaps set up some kind of viewing evening at my place? I could invite other people who might be interested in the expedition who weren't able to go for whatever reason."

With a nod, Lana nudges Shadow back with her foot a bit while shutting the door behind him and heading up the stairs so she can set the gift down in the kitchen.

"I think that would be a great idea. I'd suggest inviting people from the expedition as well, maybe, since we did get split up for part of it."

"Of course. And perhaps some of them also took pictures or notes that they might wish to share with the rest of us."

He follows, keeping a careful eye on the puppy so as not to accidentally step on him.

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THE WALK HOME

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AT HOME

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AT HOME

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