shatterverse | (no subject)

"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.

She waits until just before the next trigger pull.

"I meant being a teenager." Completely casual.

Her finger stumbles on the trigger and doesn't quite pull.

Jo's getting another blue-eyed glare. But Rachel doesn't lower the rifle.

"I lost twenty pounds and had to go shopping all over again. That the 'everything' you're talking about?"

"Guess I missed where this was just binge dieting?"

"Besides that, nothing else has changed," Rachel snaps, angry. She starts to turn toward Jo, combative and defensive.

And stops herself, taking the stance again and glaring fire at the target.

Before Jo can answer, she snaps off a shot. It's wild, but it makes her feel better.

Jo doesn't believe it.

But she might have smiled.

Rachel continues scowling, taking clips to reload, firing off again.

Nothing's different. Part of that is the problem. She's back in her own, original skin, the same Rachel that died, and everything. is. exactly. the same.

That shot is closer.

"That's shit."

Cartridge.

"I'd be better if you weren't distracting me like a jerk," Rachel growls.

"You'd be worse in the long run."

Is honest. "Load."