Chaos Precip

As soon as her stitches were out they'd been back to their mission, ghosting along in the wake of a particularly vicious slave train. They'd taken away several chains worth of slaves, transporting them to safety, to freedom, and yet the train hadn't foundered. They slavers hadn't died or drifted apart.

That was a disturbing trend. NO slaver ring had ever followed that pattern again.

It was frustrating.

And scary.

And it meant that they had to follow and keep trying. They had to watch as the train crossed into Mexico with new slaves, gleaned from small towns they hadn't managed to warn, or free afterward. That tore it. They needed a base of operation, some place to watch the main routes from, a place to hole up and recover at while they worked on this newest, terrifying ring.

The old church high on a hill, an old Spanish mission, left on a twisted rise of line after a Chaos Storm was a literal Godsend. "It's perfect..." Dagger grinned, stepping from the folds of Ty's cloak to peer up at the arched rafters.

TJ was having a good night. It was warm, her fur was ruffling in the wind, someone else had the kids. Honestly, what more could a person ask? She'd heard rumours about disappearances in the Kentucky area but that was all they were; nobody had asked her or Clarice to do anything and she was just fine with the downtime.

It was really good to get to spend time with the family. Mr. Creed had been through briefly in the middle of the night, and she'd had a chance to catch up with him before he went on another mysterious mission. Soon enough another job for the sisters would come up and they'd drag poor Havelock along into trouble again.

For now? Fuzzy blue Water settled on a large rock next to a small river, brushing her fur.

The letter looks battered, the once cream envelope smudged and creased, evidence of many stops along the way. The outside simply reads 'TJ of the Organization'

Ms. TJ,

I'm very sorry to be contacting you without a formal introduction, but my partner Cloak mentioned you to me. He smiled when he spoke of you, which is a high recommendation as to your good nature. I do not want to impose upon you but I do find myself in need of a healer with a good nature, as the town we have been resting in has gotten...darker than I care for.

The town we are staying in is called 'Hope' in Arkansas, but it's rather far from the truth I think. Many of the better people we met upon our arrival are no longer alive, or in residence, and that does not set me at ease. It may seem paranoid but I'm not entirely trustful of the healers here. If it is not too much trouble would you mind if Cloak and I came to meet you?

I look forward to your reply,
Dagger

Tandy was...well, working. Not the usual work of tailing slavers today, no, they were in a town so that endeavor was on a break for now. No, she was staying in shape. She knew most people (Tyrone included) thought her silly and frivolous, but she was dedicated. Very dedicated.

She'd gotten the inn keeper's help in strapping her stitched arm to her chest. She didn't want to jostle it and tear stitches, not when it was starting to heal so nicely! It was awkward, and odd, but she was managing. She felt lopsided when she did her warm up stretches, but by the time she was doing advanced footwork she'd figured out the balance necessary to still dance properly.

The large, flat roof was all she could ask for in a practice space. no one to stare and giggle at her, enough open space for leaps, jumps, and tumbles, and sunny enough to make an outdoor practice a pleasure. She'd never really thought about how much of her dance work she was incorporating into her fights...but a quiet time to practice was making her realize it...

...and think about honing her dancing to be more weapon like. Yes, it led to some awkward experiments and tumbles, but nothing worse than when she'd first started dancing!

Tandy whimpered and turned her head away. They'd gotten the camp set up, a fire started to keep the bugs away (and there were some really big bugs in this state), and finally she could peel her sleeve back and look at the damage. "It hurts." she hated how young her voice sounded, like she was a whimpering little child instead of a girl who'd taken on a slaver band earlier in the day...

...but that was the problem. Normally they were fine. Normally nothing could touch them, but sometimes there were just too many bullets flying and not even her speed or Tyrone's cloak could take care of them all. She hadn't seen the one that hit her arm, punching through the white leather easily and the flesh beneath even easier.

It hurt. A lot. But it hadn't hit the bone at least. She could move her arm. She just wasn't good with pain. "Please please please don't tell me the bullet's still in there?!" She was asking her partner of course, she wasn't looking. No, looking would just make it hurt more right?

Right.