Striking in complete silence / devastating, isolating, until I lose control

[gotbottle]

Who: Raylan Givens and Rachel Conway
What: Saving the day! Aaaand opening up a CR can of worms.
Where: Champion's Walk, Griss Twist.
When: Backdated a few days, in the midst of monster madness.
Notes: N/A
Warnings: Violence against monsters.

She'd been driven from her apartment three days ago, driven from her neighborhood a day after that. Rachel had managed to pack a bag on her way out, slung across her body now, full of what meager first-aid supplies she could gather and everything she could possibly use as a light source.

...Not that she intends to go that route. Ever. But better to be prepared for something you don't have to do than to be pushed into that corner and not be ready.

She's been moving through the city, doing what she can, sleeping when she can. She's hardly prepared for this; she's been a book editor and a tea house waitress and a low-level volunteer for a political party, there's nothing in her background to ready her for circumstances like these. But she couldn't just hide somewhere and not try.

The side streets tonight are reasonably quiet, if demolished here and there, bearing scars of earlier skirmishes. She makes note of buildings that look like they'll stay standing, and when she comes across the odd person wandering the street, she checks to make sure they don't need medical attention and then she shoos them off to the nearest safe place.

But as she nears Champion's Walk, the odd people become groups of people, and they're not wandering, they're fleeing. She catches the ones she can, directing them to a safe place, unable to get much out of them besides "monster" and "didn't want to be trapped."

There's a knot of people running through the open back door of a business that faces Champion's Walk. She fights her way through, dodging people, and she gets out the front door. She still can't see much--there's a group of people coming toward her, and some more, lit by the few street lamps still working, congregating by some buildings on the next block.

And then a shape moves between her and a lamp, flitting by so fast there's only a silhouette, and an impression of size. Great size.

She can't just stand here and do nothing.

Back through the shop she goes, back out the back door, but instead of joining the others fleeing onto the side streets, she takes one that parallels Champion's Walk. She sees another stream of people coming down an alley, and she squeezes through, popping out into the crowd of people gathered there.

"Who's in charge?" she asks the nearest person. "Is there anyone helping you guys right now?"

Comments

[gotbottle]

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she says, with a faint smile.

She turns to look at him, reaching over to touch his arm. "When's the last time you got any kind of rest?"

[toooldforlosing]

He manages a half smile in return. "Been sleeping on and and off when I could manage. I probably look like shit, though - haven't had a shower in days."

[gotbottle]

"That doesn't bother me so much. But I am worried about you being tired." She gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "Things are quiet now, and there's a couch over there. You want to try grabbing an hour or two of sleep? I can wake you up if anything happens. I figure the one of us that actually knows how to use the shotgun ought to be a bit more rested."

[toooldforlosing]

"You sure?" He'd generally fight her more, but he is in fact more tired than he's showing.

[gotbottle]

The fact that he's not putting up much of a fight convinces her this is the right idea. If he's tired enough not to fuss...

"I'm sure, Raylan. Get some rest now, while you can. God knows when we're going to have another chance."

[toooldforlosing]

He holds up a finger. "No more than one hour. Really. Then it's your turn." They'll both get proper sleep when the siege ends, but for now, he can't turn down the chance to rest.

Even if he feels betrayed, he knows she won't hurt him. For now, that's good enough.

[gotbottle]

She gets to her feet, holding up one hand like she's taking an oath as she fishes out her CiD with the other hand. "One hour. You have my word--I'm even setting a timer on this. Go on, go lie down."

[toooldforlosing]

He shakes his head, but gets up to move to the couch. "Yes, ma'am. You see anything, you think you see anything, you shake my shoulder if you can, shout if not."

[gotbottle]

Rachel puts the tips of two fingers to her temple in a mock salute, smiling faintly. "I'll peek out the windows every few minutes--I don't want to hang out near them in case anything notices me, but I'll keep an eye on things. Enjoy your nap."

[toooldforlosing]

Raylan only intends to close his eyes for a few minutes, but he really is exhausted. He almost immediately falls into a light and restless sleep, and he'll easily be out more than an hour unless she wakes him.

[gotbottle]

She pokes around the room while he sleeps, glancing out the windows every so often for any sign of incoming trouble. It's clear that at one time, though probably not recently, this was someone's modest home or crash pad. There's no food int the cabinet--and if there was she wouldn't eat it--but she does find a few glasses. She gives those a good rinse in the sink so they can be used.

She gets two glasses of water in her before her CiD buzzes in her pocket, telling her the hour's up. He's clearly tired. She really wants to let him sleep longer, but she gave her word and she's not about to go back on that now, not after what happened earlier.

"Raylan." She kneels beside the couch, setting down a glass of water before putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Raylan, it's been an hour, but if you want to sleep longer, that's okay."

[toooldforlosing]

"Nng." It's mostly a negative sound before he's even all the way up. Raylan is usually a light sleeper, but exhaustion takes it's toll sooner or later. "You sleep for a bit," he says thickly, sitting up. "If we're safe for two hours, we can stay longer."

[gotbottle]

"Sounds reasonable to me." She sits down beside him, handing over the glass. "Water. God knows I needed some."

She looks exhausted now that she's still; she's not going to argue about taking a rest, but... "If we can stay, you should get some more sleep when my hour's up."

[toooldforlosing]

"Alright. After your hour, we'll talk about what to do." He shakes off the sleep like a dog shaking off water, surrendering the couch and moving (carefully) to the window.

They needed a longer-term plan, but neither of them are in much shape to make one.

[gotbottle]

Rachel watches him head toward the window, but it's not long after that at all that she's out, fatigue from the last few days in general and having to do what she did earlier in particular finally overtaking her.

(There may be some way of using her power without draining herself; if there is, she hasn't found it. She'd meant to ask Dr. Xavier about that but she also kept canceling and postponing her appointment with him.)

She's a heavier sleeper than Raylan, not moving once she drifts off, curled on her side.

[toooldforlosing]

Once the hour is up, he's more or less convinced they won't be found quickly. He half draws the curtains, and then sits with his back against the door, shotgun laid across his lap. He drifts off the way he would if it were just him, trusting that he'll be able to shoot something coming in through the window and block the door with his weight.

When Rachel wakes, he's probably still there, hat tilted over his eyes.

[gotbottle]

It's a few hours before she stirs, rolling onto her back and stretching. After a couple minutes' lying there blinking heavily at the ceiling, she sits up, scrubbing at her face with her hands and then running them through her hair.

She feels better than she has in days. Raylan must've let her sleep-- Raylan. He's not at the window; she turns and sees him leaned against the door, completely still, eyes covered. Good. He rested too.

She could use another glass of water. She slides off the couch and heads toward the sink, trying to be quiet lest she wake him.

[toooldforlosing]

He tilts his head back, and it's hard to tell if he'd just been dozing or if she woke him. "How're you feeling?" he asks, quietly so as not to startle her.

[gotbottle]

She stops, looking down at him. "I feel better, thanks," she says, and it seems she is; her smile is more sure of itself than before, her usual good humor on its way back. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

[toooldforlosing]

"Nah, I've been in and out." He shifts to sit up, wincing at the crick in his neck. "Seemed like everything was quiet for the moment, so I figured we could both use a break."

[gotbottle]

"Yeah, I think that was the right thing to do." She gestures in the direction of the sink. "You want some more water? That's about all we've got here."

[toooldforlosing]

"I'll take the water while we've got it, sure." He moves, carefully, to take a peek out the window. "Still seems quiet, for now. I mean, relatively speaking."

[gotbottle]

She refills both glasses, joining him at the window to hand him one. "Yeah. Relatively speaking."

Rachel sips from her glass, looking up at him. "What do you think we should do next? Camp out here? Try to move on while it's still quiet?"

[toooldforlosing]

"This place is defensible," he says, after reflecting, "but no food. I've got next to nothing on me. We're gonna have to keep moving, but we can rest a little more first if you need it."

[gotbottle]

She shakes her head. "Thank you. But I'm all right. I'm ready whenever you are. I don't want to linger too much longer and wind up getting caught when something else rolls back in."