don't make me cry

[ironshodboots]

Who: Nazca Barsavi, Don Draper
What: Blood and guts
Where: Somewhere between Gallmarch and Raven's Gate (Creeksideish?)
When: A bit after reality had holes ripped through.
Notes: Sorry, Don.
Warnings: Aftermath of violence, character death.

Raven's Gate hadn't been tenable. There'd been things coming up through the water - they'd destroyed her boat, but she'd slipped off. Swimming was as easy as walking, but she hadn't been able to stick to the water for long.

It hadn't just been the water, though, and the streets had proved no safer.

She'd killed two of the things, and chased the rest of them off, but she hadn't gotten far before she needed to stop. In a conveniently deep doorway, she unhooked her leather dueling harness and hissed - the white tunic beneath was soaked, and some of the blood was definitely hers.

Muttering a stream of Verrari curses under her breath, she ripped off a sleeve and started trying to fashion a makeshift bandage. Mainly, though, what she can think is not again.

(And she can't help a small pang over the fact that, at least at home, she'd had people to mourn her. She wondered if anyone would here; Gabriel. Sebastian? Dean was already dead himself.)

It had been a shitty sort of afterlife.