shatterverse | (no subject)

Not a big deal. Just details to memorize and implement.

Rachel straightens her shoulders and adjusts, relaxing her elbow to allow for the kickback. She tries again.

Her aim is still atrocious. But her hands and stance are steady.

She's sitting the center more than the sides.
But the third ring is still getting a hit.
Which makes her frown.

Not as much as Rachel's last shot.

"Like this." The revolver hangs from her left hand.
She reached out. Her right hand settling on Rachel's arm.

Edited 2010-06-20 06:54 (UTC)

Rachel frowns immediately, bright eyes glancing sharply to the hand on her arm. But she allows it easily, looking back out at the target.

"How is this supposed to help?" she asks after a moment, a little rough. "It's not even moving."

"Precision."

Jo shifted Rachel, hands deft but impersonal.

The set of her shoulders. The stance related to her hips.

Rachel puts up with the maneuvering with a scowl, lips tight with annoyance. Love of shopping aside, she does not appreciate being moved around like a mannequin.

She puts up with it. Jo's helping her.

Jo tilted her right shoulder slightly more back.

"Now, down the center, look at the circle through the site. But don't unfocus it."

Rachel frowns again, eyes squinting a little. Her shoulder tilts back with Jo's touch obediently and she lifts the rifle again.

"How do I focus?"

...on the gun, of course. Though it wouldn't hurt for her to get a full definition.

"Forget the target. Look at the sight. See the flat silver of the top."

A deeper frown, her shoulders squaring automatically. "I see it," Rachel murmurs, watching the circle flash in the morning sunlight.

"Think of it like the ground."

Jo shifted, looking at Rachel standing there.
The way her shoulders shifted.

Pulling her right slightly back, again.

"You don't think you look at the ground, but if you lose sight of it, you can't walk straight, balance, stand upright. It's your equilibrium, the foundation."

Letting her shoulder pull back with Jo's touch, Rachel nods slightly, eyes on the silver of the sight. Immediately, she starts to pull her shoulder up again - then stops and forces herself to put it back again, to stand and find comfort in the position Jo's put her in.

The silver glows bright and her eyes narrow a little, thinking immediately of the list of morphs that would be better equipped for this.

Then stops herself, mouth thinning into a fine line as she nods slightly. "Okay."

"When you look through it, it's there and you never lose it."
Even if Jo couldn't tell you the last time she saw it firing.

It'll be off. For whatever Rachel will need to compromise for.
Jo has to do it for her height and her lower perspective.
But it'll come in time a lot later, too.

"Line it up to the middle."

The nose of the rifle moves marginally, Rachel's young face set in fierce concentration. It's not that hard. The mental focus it takes to hold a morph, or leave it, has given her a great deal of experience in holding her focus with distractions around.

But she has to want to do it. There needs to be adrenaline and a need and a purpose.

...except that Jo's teaching her.

She adjusts the rifle against her shoulder until the target is centered with that little silver piece, the darker block on the point of the muzzle.

"Okay," she murmurs, focusing less on Jo, more on the target. Focus.

"When you're ready, fire."

Jo only makes it through half of that last word, fire, before the rifle goes off.

Rachel will have to compensate for a lot of things, once she realizes how her body and the gun work together. And eventually, one day, she'll have to learn patience.

For now, she lets the rifle drop from her shoulder, holding it steady at her waist, and squints at the target. "...it's worse than the last one," she points out, grumpy.

She chooses not to acknowledge that her last shot was pure luck.

Jo dug down and pulled out a handful of cartridges.

She's didn't pause for complaint or pity. "Keep going."

Or for the fact that Rachel might reminds her of herself. Long ago.

Rachel glances at her, face open a little, surprised by the lack of comment.

Almost immediately, she lifts the rifle back into place, makes the effort to pull her shoulder back as Jo insisted. Her eyes narrow.

A shot fires through the woods again. Blue eyes dart to Jo, waiting - but not lowering the rifle.

Jo holds out cartridges. Obviously there's no stopping.

Even when she says, "How're you doing with everything?"

Given that silent order, Rachel answers, taking cartridges and loading them. Her hands fumble but only from a lack of experience. She tries. She does her best.

"I've got the stance," Rachel murmurs, distracted as she squints at the target, "but I'm not getting any better."

In her eyes.

Rachel was relaxing into it.
But if she pointed it out, it would leave.

"I didn't mean the gun."

Rachel frowns - and blinks, lowering the rifle slightly to look over at Jo. "Then what?"

Jo pointed at the rifle.

Miming lifting, pointedly.

Rachel scowls at her, annoyed at the interruption.

But she still lifts the rifle and squints down the sight again.

"Better." Is too amused. Even dry.

She knows Rachel isn't following yet.

Rachel makes a noise. It may have been a growl. The human throat isn't really made for it, but she does a good job with what she has.

Another shot rings through the air. She scowls at the result but is already shifting to reload.