Shatterverse Panfandom RP

December in Kansas is nothing like December in California.

Translation: Rachel is freezing.

And also in the meadow she's been sleeping in for weeks with Tobias, rolling up her sleeping bag and packing a backpack.

On the ground floor of an abandoned building in Metropolis, there is a soft exhale.

Shhhhhhhrrrri-

"Ah, damn it."

Schloop! Crrraaac-

"Argh."

Crunch. P-p-p-pop!

"Crap."

Rachel is practicing morphing clothes. Right now it's just a tighter t-shirt and a pair of skinny-leg jeans, but it's fairly obvious that it isn't working, judging by the half-formed animal-human... wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

Metropolis remains a waystation. Rachel's starting to pine for the few weeks she spent in New York or in the Impala, where there was something to fight every few hours, at least. And she has plenty to work on - her aim with the gun, the very basic moves she learned for hand-to-hand combat - but there's something keeping her from it all the same.

(see: stubbornness)

It's hard to force herself to be interested in the abilities of her boring human body when she can become a grizzly and pile-drive someone, or go eagle and snatch out their eyeballs after diving down a few thousand feet in the air.

But none of that is of any use now either because there's no one to pile drive, or no one's eyeballs that need to be snatched, and no way to do either of those things without calling entirely too much attention to herself either. So she's moving on to another ability of her human body that's been on her mind, pretty much since she met the BatBoy.

Rachel's in an abandoned building, having dragged out some old and somewhat moldy mats, running through routines: backflips, roundoffs, cartwheels, front flips, handstands - anything and everything she can think of. If that guy could be that good at his height, then she can, too, damn it.

...eventually.

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."

There was quite a bit of noise in Lawrence recently, as three blood-stained people stumbled their way back into town. Rachel had watched them from her old room in Jo's house, frowning slightly. She'd made a list of reasons why Jo would have come back to Kansas at all, and one of the biggest is that Dean probably wanted to see his family again.

But she hasn't seen Jo yet and Dean wasn't with his blood-stained family when they returned to the house.

In the morning, she's not any closer to answers. But, after an hour in the back yard running through routines and a quick flying trip followed by the completely magical cooking skills of Ai-Ling, she's feeling much more prepared to face conversation.