i'll have you know cockroaches make extremely loyal and durable pets

[underachievement]

WHO: Jessica Jones
WHERE: 6I
WHEN: July 13-16, to be updated throughout the month
OPEN TO: Kamala; Sam; other options OTA
WARNINGS: language

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07/13: INN + SURROUNDINGS

[ Closed to Kamala ]

Jess avoids the well-trodden paths throughout the day so by all rights, she should be well out of danger in the event of an afternoon earthquake. She's on an emergency supply run to the Inn for tissues, of all things, since her nose is now stuffed when it isn't runny. A pretty stupid item to get crushed to death over but thankfully her bubble has her back, and her head and all the rest of her weak, common cold-susceptible Average Jane junkheap of a body. She didn't reach her destination, almost safe out on the street as the quake's intensity peaked; it's many minutes after, having run into Kamala and sort-of not-really paired off (they're just walking the same way, at the same time), that an aftershock gently dislodges a loose sheet of shingles to come sloughing against her shield.

And ricocheting right at a helpless teenager. No matter what power she's stuck with, she'll make the bullshittiest use of, apparently. She reaches out in alarm but keeps her feet planted, her shield still up, as far as she knows. Like the tent she commandeered her first week here, putting it up is fairly intuitive, but taking it down? Living nightmare.

OTHER

Wildcard option. Jess's sleep schedule is all over the place but she's more active at night than most other times of day, when she likes to wander or watch the 6I streets -- when too many people have the same idea, she hops the pond and skulks around 7I with even less direction. Before sundown, she's reading about the setting at idk wherever that happens will edit that. She hits up the 6I Inn every couple of days for booze, crossing peoples' paths like a black cat.

[ ooc | Will match tag style if you prefer brackets! My plot post is here if you'd like to discuss first, and here is Jess's bio and application with her CRAU history. Will be using this post for all of July, editing only to add new starters or update Jess's circumstances for the wildcard option. ]

Comments

[underachievement]

Twilight Something. It's on the tip of her brain but she lets it get away, eying the stream of filthy amber pouring til it runs dry. Her nose is of less use to her every day so goes right for a sip after accepting the bottle. A small, sputtering sip, some spat back into the narrow neck and some dribbling down the sides as she covers her mouth with her hand and forces herself to swallow before she resumes coughing.

"Jes- us," she hisses out, "Christ." The bottle is set on the counter, along with the heels of Jess's palms. She hangs her head, shoulders rattling with quiet coughs she refuses to let past her lips. She sniffs hard, her nose starting to run again, and lifts her head, partially recuperated. "What'd you distill that from, railroad spikes?"

[thegreatexperiment]

It was really a shame Sam didn't have a webcam. Or a phone. It would have made one hell of a YouTube channel, recording people's reactions to her moonshine vodka.

But then again, as long as she was wishing for things, she kind of wished for a big door with a neon sign that said 'Exit.'

That would be fucking awesome.

She smiled mildly, the sort of smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and gave a shrug. "Just potatoes, yeast, and water," she said. "And a lot of ghetto, jacked up siphoning with this." She gestured to her still, with a small measure of pride, in spite of herself. "I did warn you about the first batch."

[underachievement]

She'd say she's not complaining but she just did. It's still better than nothing, and nothing is better than mouthwash, and Jess wasn't kidding about getting desperate.

"Keep it coming," she strains to sound game, or encouraging, or less like a lightweight piece of crap. After ironing her breath out, Jess has a second quick, harsh sip, which goes down much smoother. Presumably because her tastebuds were singed dead in the liquid wildfire of her first swig. "Actually, keep a tab open for me and my wrecking ball's on call."

[thegreatexperiment]

"As long as I have the ingredients, I whip up a few batches every week," Sam replied gamely, putting herself to work on the next batch as spoke. As far as science went, it was a little tedious, but it was better than nothing. And it wasn't like she was good for plowing fields or hunting Bambi in the forest. "We're pretty much a barter culture around here."

Wow. She'd said 'we.' That was new.

Fuck, herself from a year ago wouldn't recognize who she'd become. That was probably a good thing, but Sam wasn't entirely sold.

"Although I'd love to hear more about this 'wrecking ball.'"