veneficusvenato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veneficusvenato) wrote2016-03-16 10:15 pm
veneficusvenato) wrote2016-03-16 10:15 pm
Alice, Through the Looking Glass
Do your job, you love it, Lee had said,
and Sokka hadn't helped adding, Be good
and we'll make it worth your while even.
For them, Jo'd stood still while two of the costumers got to make her over in a way she rarely agreed. She told herself if was for Sokka and Leah, but it was for Gillespie, too. Who might have been a Gil, but could have been a Dick, John, Harry or Bartholemuel, too. That was the job, after all. Part of which was dressing up and dragging the newest trainee to a Ministry Function, because that, too, required training this high up. Learning that this was all part of it, too.
Blending in, using your real name, but with the longest-lived lie you were handed.
Today, which involved watching two people curl her hair and apply her makeup with wands, and even a board that looked more like an artists pallet. Then a short white dress, with just enough give to hide her wand but nothing else, and an even smaller, more ornamental, looking shoulder jacket.
It would have been lovely if that was the worst the night could offer. Dresses, makeup, small talk, and Gillespie. But things never went that easy, really, did they. She couldn't just go home and bitch to her people about the mind numbing boringness and the funny tasting food. No, of course not. Instead the night went from that to explosions, sparks raining purple and black, from two dozen people dressed in black and purple, and running.
Shoving Gillespie, while shouting and and firing behind them. Creating a diversion. A spectacle. They weren't meant to be the people who did clean-up or cattle herding of the ministry wives and children. This wasn't exactly what they were for either, but they excelled in a pinch. Just like a handful of the other groups that had been in the milling dinner crowd.
The throbbing knuckles, and the disarray of her curls, as well as a rip along one side of her skirt, had happened before the running started, but they were lost in that. The way running did. Took every thought that wasn't attacks, hexes, and counter-spells. Stumbling through the doorway that should have led to a staircase, but didn't. She felt it sizzle through her skin, but all the three wizards were following right after, and as a burst of purple exploded toward them, Jo shoved Gillespie out of the path.
But it slammed straight into her, acid burning and needle stinging, sending her stumbling backwards, with a crack that she was sure was one of those damned heels they'd insisted on, which only helped it. She reached out to catch the reddish drape hanging behind her, but her fingers went straight through it, and her shoulders followed sending her into a tumble.....
Or the one after that. Everything went black around, and she swore she would
have Gil's ass for breakfast, as well as the costumers, and her best friends.....
....before the light returned in a blinding assault and Jo collided solidly,
in an all too familiar feeling, with another body beneath her.
in an all too familiar feeling, with another body beneath her.
[ Jo's Timeline: 1 Year Before Order of the Jobberknoll
SPN Timeline: ??? ]
no subject
"You know, can we not say that? And just pretend you never did? Just. No."
The last thing she wanted to think about was Sam Winchester, in flagrante delicto, dragging her down from the sky, or through curtains or whatever the bloody fuck that had been. She was going with No. Just. No, and more no. Magic, yes. Sam Winchester's penis? No.
The rest was beating hard at the edges, as she clung to the only thing she could correctly reject outright as his other words sank in with alarm speed. Trying to take the breath out of her chest. The breath she'd barely gotten back to breathe, in the chest that still ached like someone thought she was gong and rang every cell in her body at 300%.
"What are you talking about?" Not knowing who she worked for. She worked for the only real government force the country had.
no subject
"A few times, over the years, Dean and I have been propelled into alternate universes, universes that possess the same people, but some event has gone differently. Often, it changed everything." He sighed.
"I have no idea who you work for, or where you're from, but I know you're not from this universe, as..." he fixed his eyes on hers. "the Jo Harvelle in this universe is dead."
no subject
It's idiotic, that's her first thought when she realizes she's still staring at Sam, to the fox, back to Sam, but her hand went to the amulet at her neck at first reaction. Fist curving too familiarly around it. The solid, heavy weight of the brass in her hand. Before she drops it. The second she realizes. How idiotic it is. Even while the words tumble out, hard and incredulous, "That's not possible."
She wasn't dead. (Even if she wouldn't be surprised if Dean wanted her to be. Or wanted to pretend she was. Or wished she had. For how she vanished. For how she let the Ministry be the wall between them it was supposed to be between her and the world. He'd deserved better.
But so had she. Hadn't she? Is he'd loved her at all?)
She couldn't be somewhere else.
Could she?
no subject
"Which isn't? Being dead or being here?" Amy then nudged Sam's hand with her nose at Jo holding whatever her necklace held. Something that she did herself plenty of times with the little stars and moon when she needed reassurance. Maybe it was time to face being human again. Recovering enough energy to keep herself to her normal appearance.