In A Time Long Past
Part One: Renaming
The crowded streets of the London marketplace were overrun with hopeful young and old merchants alike, praying to God and the King alike to bless them with a bit of extra money. Huge baskets heaped to the brim with fruit, breads, spices, and other necessary items for a comfortable living were clutched by each seller. A few carts were pulled along behind small children, in hopes that the sight of their pure innocence and hunger would invoke some pence. Women walked along, their shrill voices hawking out goods. Men occasionally sat in stands, set up for the simple use of profit.
A young woman sat on the front stoop of one of the large homes that serviced many of the busy city's tenants. A puddle before her reflected shining blonde hair that sparkled even in the perpetual overcast sky that was London. She rubbed her green-hazel eyes, making the swelling larger rather than reducing it. Her slightly crooked nose was a memoir of an accident that involved a tree as a toddler. The doctor had ranted that it was a miracle that the girl had survived the fall at all. But she had always been a fighter, even as a tiny creature. Her petite form was clutching her knees tightly, as no one else would hold and comfort her. Her mother worked at the museum in the richer area of the city, and her little sister stayed with a tutor at the museum so she could reach her sister's peak of knowledge. It would be impossible to advance her after the sixth form, but she could dream her dreams and puzzle out her own queries better than any teacher in her mother's mind.
"Elizabeth Summers! What on earth are you doing just sitting there like that?!"
The stoop girl looked up at the slightly crinkled face of Mr. Rupert Giles, the man who ran the only bookshop on the whole south side of the Thames. His brown hair lay flatly on his head, the sweat from rushing about the shop causing it to stick down upon his scalp in an unflattering style. His dark eyes were squinted against the flying dust that the buggies always brought with them along with the passengers. There was a look of genuine concern evident on his features, and so she relented and replied:
"Hello Mr. Giles. I'm simply recovering from a fright if you must know, and I was calming myself before returning back upstairs. And also, I prefer to go by Buffy now."
Giles stared at her in confusion. "Buffy? Why in our dear lord's name Buffy?"
"It's what Dawn, my sister-you remember her, called me when she was just a tot, and I think it suits me."
"All right Elizabeth. I will remember to call you Buffy. But at least give me a day to plant it firmly into my brain." With that quick remark, he was off, his sports coat fluttering in the chilling breeze.
Buffy slowly began her ascent into the house. The top floor was a-ways off, and she had time to reflect as she walked.