you are alert as a tigress at a common table with her fate
Life for the past year has been a series of motel rooms, cheap bars with hollow carvings in their jukeboxes telling stories she doesn't care for, and empty beer bottles lined up on the counters she uses later for practice. There's the occasional postcard to her mother and traveling down the open road from one middle-of-the-fuck-nowhere town to the next. She's on her own, just as she wanted, finally becoming the hunter she's desired to be.
It's late at night, and the case she's been working on lands her face-to-face with the rat bastard she's been itching to capture after weeks of research. Jo's hunter instincts kick into overdrive at the chase. Adrenaline loops throughout her along with sheer determination, enough that she ignores the fact blood drips down her arm and it's going to require stitches. She's no stranger to battle scars--what's one more?
The Rift has impeccable timing. No sooner is she gonna pull the trigger a Rift opens up and dumps her into a different place altogether. She skids to a halt at the immediate change of scenery. Quick reflexes don't allow her to linger too much on the disorientation. She's a Harvelle--she's not going to sit around and wait for answers to fall from the damn sky.
She inches further out the nondescript alleyway, silence crackling in the night save for the sound of her footsteps. When she turns back around, there's a vibrant light closing behind her. "What the--"
Happy birthday, Jo. You get Chicago.
It's late at night, and the case she's been working on lands her face-to-face with the rat bastard she's been itching to capture after weeks of research. Jo's hunter instincts kick into overdrive at the chase. Adrenaline loops throughout her along with sheer determination, enough that she ignores the fact blood drips down her arm and it's going to require stitches. She's no stranger to battle scars--what's one more?
The Rift has impeccable timing. No sooner is she gonna pull the trigger a Rift opens up and dumps her into a different place altogether. She skids to a halt at the immediate change of scenery. Quick reflexes don't allow her to linger too much on the disorientation. She's a Harvelle--she's not going to sit around and wait for answers to fall from the damn sky.
She inches further out the nondescript alleyway, silence crackling in the night save for the sound of her footsteps. When she turns back around, there's a vibrant light closing behind her. "What the--"
Happy birthday, Jo. You get Chicago.