shatterverse | (no subject)

Current Location: Lawrence, Kansas

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Things Dianne has learned in the past month or so:

1) Do not wander out alone and get kidnapped by seven midgets.

2) Do not insult midgets when they attempt to make you keep house for them. At least, not without weapons to back yourself up properly.

3) Or family members.

4) Don't let them caste a spell on your or whatever that makes you fall asleep for a long time, even if it means tearing out every single one of their goddamn beards.

5) Shooting glass coffins from the inside is slightly painful because HUNDREDS OF GLASS PIECES, even if it is effective.

So, one Dianne Winchester staggering through the streets of Lawrence towards the usual Winchester Center, pissed and bleeding.

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Jo's been on a walk.

Lawrence is so Fuckin' Boring. Especially when one is waiting on a boy to talk to another boy so you can just go~~, the hell, home~~ to the Roadhouse already.

She looked up when she noticed company.

"Hey." Beat, rather bald, with some concern. "You don't look so good."

"I'm gonna kill them," she says evenly, keeping up her more or less steady pace towards the Winchester home.

"I'm gonna hunt those sons of bitches down and pluck every hair of their goddamn beards out and break every bone in their bodies."

She glances down at her right hand, which is still clutching a bullet-less handgun in a death grip. "You got a gun?"

"Yeah."

This is said with a note of amusement adding to the concern.

Jo dropped into an easy gait with hers.

"You need help?"

Which was both the question she asked, and so a prompt for getting to find out who and what and everything.

Edited 2008-07-25 02:05 (UTC)

She just keeeeeeeps walking, barely glancing at Jo when she joins her.

"Can I borrow it?"

"I have some ones at my house I wouldn't be too against parting with."

Beat.

"Don't need stitches too, do you?"

Thats the closest she's getting to mentioning the blood, and glinting what she assumes must be glass pieces, tiny pieces in her clothes and hair.

"I need to shoot something."

Helpfully ignoring Jo's question.

Direct and all she needed.

"Lets get you a gun then."

Jo nodded off toward her house and headed that way.

She pauses, a second, glancing in the direction of the house, then tears herself away to follow Jo.

Shoot something.

Then check on family. It can wait a few minutes.

They get into the house.

Jo went to the corner on the opposite side of the couch, dug through a pile of them, and safety, still on, tossed it toward the end of the couch near Dianne.

"You want backup, or you got it covered?"

"I got things to do first."

She shoots a flicker of a grin Jo's way- having a loaded gun in her hands feels right, and draws her a little bit out of that shell. Not all the way, though.

She has things to do first.

One of which is to take that gun Jo so nicely provided for her outside, wipe a little bit of blood away from her eyes, pick a house nearby, and shoot out every one of the windows.

She still has things to do.

But God, that felt good.

Jess...isn't calling out for Sam. This place is so empty, and a large part of her is saying that it's best not to make sound. But she can hear footsteps and peers around the side of a house.

She barely slows down, just keeps walking towards the house, her hand starting to go out for the doorknob before she acknowledges Jess's existence.

"Where are they?"

~~Crazy bleeding lady for being reassuring, check.~~

"I was going to ask you."

The bottom might've just dropped out of her world, but her expression doesn't flicker.

Just.

"When'd they go?"

"By the time I woke up. Before dawn."

Shit.

"Everyone?"

"Sam and Mary I know - I think Dean, Jo and Rachel are still here, but."

But she's been avoiding them for the time being.

There's a moment where she just processes the information.

"Who're you?"

'Jessica', she thinks, but no sense giving her unnecessary information like that if she's not.

"Sam's Jess."

"Winchester now," she says, because there's nothing else, really.

She lets out a breath.

jessica moore died in a fire

"Yes."

She nods.

"You see anything? Hear anything? Where were they last?"

"I woke up, and the bed was empty and so was the house."

"No creepy feelings up your spine, smell of sulfur, anything?"

"I feel like that all the time."

....

......The fuck?

"I was attacked by a demon in my old world. I was thrown across the room and stapled to the ceiling and set on fire and the only reason I'm not dead is because I came here.

Post-tramatic stress has made me a little...jumpy."

"Yeah," she says, eventually.

"Sam mentioned something about that."

She would be more comforting, but, y'know, she's kinda not at her best here.

"So, I can't, um. Pick things up that are actually happening."

She's not really listening, now.

She's kind of idly staring at some of the blood on her arm she's been ignoring up until now.

After which, she proceeds to productively kick the shit out of the front door.

"Nice meeting you," Jess says, turning on her heel to continue looking.

Damn it.

"Wait."

There's more to follow, just... give her a second.

She pauses, glances back. She's a tall girl, just over six feet in those walking boots, and with her hair in two practical braids, she gives off the distinct sense of Viking.

She also gives off the sense of being really, really fucking worried.

"I got stuff in the van. Books. Sammy's," deep breath, "better at the research stuff, but it's as good a place to start as any."

A quick smile.

"I was a college girl."

She's good at research.

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