Jo Harvelle runs on 100 proof attitude power (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tobeclosetohim) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2016-07-07 11:46 pm
tobeclosetohim) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-07-07 11:46 pm
Entry tags:
Day 3 { like it doesn't hurt, no
WHO: Jo Harvelle
WHERE: #44, The Waverly
WHEN: July 3rd, morning, Before Exploration #1
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Jo, so swearing, other updates as needed
STATUS: Open
Jo doesn't choose a house until somewhere in the early midnight hours of the third day, and not even then because she wants one, so much as she's just dead on her feet tired, starving in her stomach, and she can't keep her eyes open anymore. Not without a threat more active than the tension in her shoulders and the hairs on the back of her neck, while nothing makes a sound in this place except the creaking buildings, the running water, and the other kidnapped people.
She's broken into any number of houses and the large buildings. The only ones of note that landed pilfered items in her bag, tucked in her clothes and her boots: the butcher shop, the police station, the hospital, the school house. It's not her fault if people's thought process here isn't to stockpile weapons, or anything that could be used as one, and then figure out provisions and shelter, in that order.
Everything is woefully outdated,
More than half needs repair work,
But a weapon is a weapon is a weapon.
Sleep takes her for a few very short hours, and the restless tension is still there when she wakes up. As she rummages the dusty choked space and takes a washcloth bath, without any soap. Her stomach rumbles, but she ignores it. Giving up for a while, Jo settles down on the thick front wall of the Waverly porch, back against the corner column, sharpening a slightly rusty knife with a handleless sharpening rod.
WHERE: #44, The Waverly
WHEN: July 3rd, morning, Before Exploration #1
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Jo, so swearing, other updates as needed
STATUS: Open
Jo doesn't choose a house until somewhere in the early midnight hours of the third day, and not even then because she wants one, so much as she's just dead on her feet tired, starving in her stomach, and she can't keep her eyes open anymore. Not without a threat more active than the tension in her shoulders and the hairs on the back of her neck, while nothing makes a sound in this place except the creaking buildings, the running water, and the other kidnapped people.
She's broken into any number of houses and the large buildings. The only ones of note that landed pilfered items in her bag, tucked in her clothes and her boots: the butcher shop, the police station, the hospital, the school house. It's not her fault if people's thought process here isn't to stockpile weapons, or anything that could be used as one, and then figure out provisions and shelter, in that order.
Everything is woefully outdated,
More than half needs repair work,
But a weapon is a weapon is a weapon.
(All of it -- all of it -- is still better than hell.)
Sleep takes her for a few very short hours, and the restless tension is still there when she wakes up. As she rummages the dusty choked space and takes a washcloth bath, without any soap. Her stomach rumbles, but she ignores it. Giving up for a while, Jo settles down on the thick front wall of the Waverly porch, back against the corner column, sharpening a slightly rusty knife with a handleless sharpening rod.
no subject
"I am keeping my options open," Jo said easily. It rolls right off the her tongue without any hesitation.
She was keeping her options open, which didn't keep her from keep her hands full. Or from gathering weapons and supplies in case the whole lot of them end up crazy, evil, or demons. Which sounded insane, if the whole thing hadn't all already happened to her before. Yet. So had finding good people, who she could trust, team up with, and building things with. It was early yet.
It was day three, and if she knew anything about these places, they'd all have the time to see how that shook out.
no subject
"Would you believe me if I said I meant no harm? And I'd like to offer my help wherever needed?" Because she does mean to and is sincere. She needs all the alliances she can get.
no subject
"Maybe." It's just as fast, just as hesitationless. "But I wouldn't disbelieve you either."
It's not that she has anything bad to say about most of these people. One, two, sure, she's keeping an eye on.
It's a very black and white sort of thing, and she has them all in the grey until they prove they are in either of those.
"I like to make my moves on proof, and try to give people in these situations the benefit of the doubt first." Even while planning for being absolutely on point, on key, prepared for the second the whole table turned on her entirely. They way it could. It was not saying it would. It was being prepared in case it did. Refusing to be caught unaware and unprepared by the fucking multiverse ever again, if she could help it.
no subject
"I like to think I'm a good judge of character," she admits. "I tend to get a good sense of people, from experience."