(no subject)

[theresnodoor]

Rachel has yet to find what useful purpose Dean serves to this world or any other. So far his driving skills, propensity for violence, and taste in music has been far outweighed by the pure annoying of his personality.

The number of punches she's dealt his shoulder has multiplied ever since she hit her head, too. Maybe Jo was attracted to men that tried to baby her but Rachel would take a monster over a concerned individual any day of the week.

Which is why she had no problem with stealing one of Dean's guns after they'd made camp and he'd gone off to-- do whatever it was he was going to do. Se has her own, of course, but it doesn't serve her purpose.

It isn't shiny.

"Mort?" Rachel frowns and glances over her shoulder to make sure no one's around to see her acting like a crazy woman, talking to a gun. "C'mon, I need to talk to you."

Comments

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph's bike still runs perfectly. She's even learning how to tune it up herself, from Canary and from Sokka. (She learns a lot more from the Canary. About bikes, anyway.) So it's a healthy engine-purr that approaches and fades; and then, in an obvious 'hey-wait-what-was-that,' gets louder again as Steph approaches warily.

[theresnodoor]

(that's only because Steph distracts Sokka from teaching her)

Rachel sighs irritably, giving the gun a final glare before getting to her feet and slipping the gun into the waist of her jeans at her back. She doesn't know who's coming but she doesn't have to to know it'd be better if they didn't see she was armed to begin with.

[alwaysroomforhope]

Unfortunately, Steph has sharp eyes.

"Oh... it's you." She pulls the bike up a safe distance away and drops one leg to the ground, eyeing Rachel warily.

As if the other girl might leap at her and attack her at any moment.

"What are you doing back this close to the farm?"

[theresnodoor]

Rachel tries not to roll her eyes and sigh quite so obviously.

...wait, no, she doesn't.

"Passing through," she snaps in answer, sighing sharply and turning to head back toward the car. "Don't you have some kittens to go save?"

[alwaysroomforhope]

Steph glares at her. "Don't you have some victims to go murder?"

[theresnodoor]

"Victims?" Rachel snaps, whirling on her, eyes narrowed and angry. "Victims?! You have such a problem with murderers - the freaks controlling the zombies that tried to eat us, they're victims?!"

[alwaysroomforhope]

"Would have been nice if we waited to find out, wouldn't it?" Steph asks, folding her arms. "That wasn't the only zombie crowd overrunning places, you know."

It still stings that she hadn't been able to save them. Or even to find out if they were guilty.

"Yeah. I have a problem with murderers."

[theresnodoor]

"I have a problem with people who think that wishing a problem away actually works," Rachel snarls, hands on her hips. "Don't even try to change your explanation now - you aren't mad that we didn't interrogate them, you're pissed off I killed them instead of taking them to kiddie jail. Wah. I noticed you didn't stay to help bury the bodies or clean up the blood. Too busy running back home to people who could congratulate you on getting away from the monster, huh?"

[alwaysroomforhope]

"Oh, screw you!" Steph glares at her. "Sorry if I didn't want to stay around a psychotic shapeshifter!"

She hasn't told anyone about the zombies yet; not even Sokka. That just makes Rachel's words hurt more. And makes her angrier.

"Must be nice not to be human. Do you even remember what it was like when you were?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean has two adorable fluffy bunnies (with fangs, but still, they're fluffy) when he wanders back to the fire, a suspiciously short time after the bike disappears.

"Sup?"

[theresnodoor]

Rachel drops her hands from her face and looks over at him.

...mmm fluffy bunnies.

"Nothin'," she replies shortly, rolling to a crouch and reaching for a skinning knife. She holds out a hand in a silent offer for one of the rabbits.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

One gets tossed to her, legs flailing in the air. Dean smirks.

"Didn't look like nothing."

[theresnodoor]

Rachel catches it by its long, skinny feet - even while she looks up at Dean sharply.

He knows entirely too much about her without this. His knowing about Steph, or the shopping mall with the zombies, doesn't make her feel much better.

Rachel scowls and sets the rabbit down in the grass by her feet, starting to peel the skin off of it.

"Could be you need glasses, old man."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Well, I sure don't need a hearing aid," Dean points out cheerfully. "Not the way you yell."

[theresnodoor]

Rachel tears the skin off with a great riiip and flips the knife in her fingers, spraying blood at the grass and looking up at him with a glare.

"Is there something you want to say or are you going to make commentary at me until I throw this at you?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean smirks. "Commentary's good. You don't have that great an aim, I'm not too worried."

[theresnodoor]

Can't throw a knife, can't throw a punch - completely useless in this body save for the gun she's been training with, which doesn't hurt, it kills.

Rachel glares at him, smoldering with swallowed back anger, and drops her eyes to the rabbit again.

She's a little rougher with putting it on the stick than usual, but that just be because she really feels like stabbing something right now.

[godofshiny.livejournal.com]

"A gun barrel. How... appropriate."

Mort seems rather nonplussed about his current residence. Some people would just pick up a travel mirror, but nooooo, mis shifty has to use a gun barrel. It's kinda twisty in there. Makes him feel like he's looking at the sides of his face.

[theresnodoor]

This is so not the time for a smart-mouthed god to whine at her. Rachel glares and makes a face at him.

"I'm sorry, I was out of make-up mirrors. And make-up. And a purse to carry it all in. And everything but weapons and travel supplies, can we skip the sarcasm and stick to my question?"

[godofshiny.livejournal.com]

"Kind of new to this whole worship thing, aren't you?" It's okay, so is he, but he's getting more and more used to it. But Mort heaves a sigh, rolling his shoulders. "Very well then my child."

His eyes turn a liquid silver, gazing out at her, her own image reflected in them. "Ask what you, although your answers will not be to your liking."

[theresnodoor]

"That's because your answers are half-assed at best," Rachel points out sharply. "And you never told me to worship you, you said I had to say your name and you'd appear. If you wanted worship, you should be giving better answers.

"I need to know about those hawks you saw."

[godofshiny.livejournal.com]

Mort harrumphs, but lets the worship issue pass without more comment.

His head tilts back, as images pass across the surface of his reflective eyes, seeking the answers she seeks. "One heads south, seeking to cross the border. He has been granted knowledge, told tales of something hidden in the forests of Brazil, that will return him to his homeworld."

Mort pauses, a frown crossing his face. "The other moves North, tracking a creature of alien make that crossed over with him, and got away from him. He is close to the great white north, but not yet there."

[theresnodoor]

"No, not that," Rachel says quickly, shaking her head and holding the gun steady. "Not directions. Can the hawk change shape? Does it-- become other animals sometimes? A human boy, or... or a green creature about eight feet tall with blades all over? Can it talk to people in their heads without actually making a sound?"

Alien make.

But it's hard to hope.

[godofshiny.livejournal.com]

"The one traveling south appears to speak in others head. The one traveling north has been seen to change shape." She's awfully picky, isn't she?

[theresnodoor]

Rachel takes a deep breath and sighs, defeated and tired. "But not both? This-- this alien thing, the one it's following? What's it look like?"