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)
sixthiterationlogs2016-08-19 05:55 pm
tobeclosetohim) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-08-19 05:55 pm
Entry tags:
07 { August Plot Opener: Primitive Weapons
WHO: Jo Harvelle & Killian Jones
WHERE: The Inn, The Far Northeast/The 'Earlier Village'
WHEN: Friday, August 19th
WARNINGS: None as of Yet
STATUS: Closed for August Plot Opener
Jo's mornings start at the Inn & Pub every day. Almost always the earliest riser in the building, because it's rarely even begun to slink toward morning when she gets there. It's been a long time since she slept well and long. Even with this as the second world and, cumulatively, fourth month without monsters scratching at her door every day, four months is a paltry blip of a thing compared to all the years of them that proceeded this, or the legacy of them, forever beating, in her veins.
She likes having a purpose more than she likes waking from nightmares, and this morning and day have a even greater purpose. She's in a scouting team with Killian to cover an area that's been done, but since the log book got started they've had a number of more detailed things to start tracking, which means a little dancing.
Two steps back, to hopefully jump three or four steps forward because of it.
~ * ~
Her hair is pulled back in a braided ponytail that hangs out the back of her black, flame insignia, hat. She'd rather a bun, but it has to be in the nineties today and she wants the brim of the hat even more than she wants her hair to stop sticking to the back of her neck or her tanktop to stop sticking to her sides. Jo fishes out dried jerky, vegetables, and berries in strategic small handfuls, depending on how far the sun has moved since her last handful, as they walk further and further Northeast.
"Shouldn't be too much further off that way," Jo says, after swallowing her last, even though she knows he knows it just as well. It's the heat and the long jaunt with someone she doesn't know all that well. The pervasive eeriness of the place no matter how long they stay.
WHERE: The Inn, The Far Northeast/The 'Earlier Village'
WHEN: Friday, August 19th
WARNINGS: None as of Yet
STATUS: Closed for August Plot Opener
Jo's mornings start at the Inn & Pub every day. Almost always the earliest riser in the building, because it's rarely even begun to slink toward morning when she gets there. It's been a long time since she slept well and long. Even with this as the second world and, cumulatively, fourth month without monsters scratching at her door every day, four months is a paltry blip of a thing compared to all the years of them that proceeded this, or the legacy of them, forever beating, in her veins.
She likes having a purpose more than she likes waking from nightmares, and this morning and day have a even greater purpose. She's in a scouting team with Killian to cover an area that's been done, but since the log book got started they've had a number of more detailed things to start tracking, which means a little dancing.
Two steps back, to hopefully jump three or four steps forward because of it.
Her hair is pulled back in a braided ponytail that hangs out the back of her black, flame insignia, hat. She'd rather a bun, but it has to be in the nineties today and she wants the brim of the hat even more than she wants her hair to stop sticking to the back of her neck or her tanktop to stop sticking to her sides. Jo fishes out dried jerky, vegetables, and berries in strategic small handfuls, depending on how far the sun has moved since her last handful, as they walk further and further Northeast.
"Shouldn't be too much further off that way," Jo says, after swallowing her last, even though she knows he knows it just as well. It's the heat and the long jaunt with someone she doesn't know all that well. The pervasive eeriness of the place no matter how long they stay.
no subject
What was to say the village or the boxes would stay put here if they left them here. What was to say the weapons and boxes they left, wherever they left them in their village, would stay untouched and unpilfered from, if they left there to come back for more boxes. She hates this. She hates it so much. She doesn't want to doubt anyone here, and she doesn't want to trust the people who put her here.
This is how it starts. Even in her own head. Jo shoved the thoughts hard away. Focusing on Killian's suggestions. Thinking.
Her eyes fall to the ground, and then she looks over at him, asking, "Maybe we could use the vines, somehow? Tie them together?"
no subject
He goes over to the tangle of vines where they found the crates. "There are plenty of vines, of varying sizes. We could rig something up with them. I know several knots that would work."
no subject
Jo closed the two crates she'd freed and opened for the contents search, then started sizing up vines for hacking them down into a pile for tying. At least they didn't have thorns. She was probably going to be grateful for then when her hands were blistered red from pulling these back, even without them. But it would have definitely been a steeper kind of hell with thorns.
no subject
"I think we'll need some sturdier vines for the heavier work, and some thinner ones to hold it all together." So it's a good thing that there are a variety of sizes around.
He reaches for vines and starts pulling them free.