Who; Jo Harvelle (Open to house residents) Where; Kitchen in the Winchester Etc. House When; Shortly after hearing about Kira Rating; Actually pretty pg-ish, TBA if someone joins Status; Works as a narrative, in progress if someone wants to join
Jo once made a list after a bottle of cheap red wine one night in a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere Iowa where she had hunted a spirit possessing an old mill. There were two columns, column A that had every person she had known that was still alive and column B that had every person she had known that was dead. Sure it was a little morbid and whole lot depressing but her entire mental state in those months wasn't much better than that. She wasn't shocked when column B outweighed column A, but it had shocked her to see it written out like that, to see just how much longer the one side was.
Losing people that she cared about wasn't something new to her, but despite the amount of times she had gone through it, it never got easier. It wasn't something you ever got used to. And while that used to make it worse it somehow was comforting now, because it seperated her from the things she hunted, it made her better than them.
She pushed her laptop away from her after logging off and pulled her knees up to her chest, she knew what had happened and she really didn't feel like reading or discussing it anymore because it wasn't going to bring Kira back, it wasn't going to make the ache that had settled into her go away. Jo poked her spoon around the bowl of cereal, suddenly very much not hungry for it, despite her stomach's earlier protests for food.
It didn't seem right that someone like Kira was gone. Kira who had more heart than most people Jo had met in her life, who wanted nothing more than to help her friends and see everyone happy. And it didn't seem right that life had gotten so crazy in the past months she had barely seen the girl. Everything had spiraled so out of control and she hadn't even had time to talk to Kira properly the last time they had. And now it was too late. Now she was just another tick in the list she still kept going in her head, another weight to a column that got bigger and bigger.
With her free hand she grabbed her phone next to her and scrolled through her contact list for her Mom's number. Not that she expected this time to be any different and the familiar taunting of the operator was all that answered her, we're sorry your call cannot be completed as dialed. It wasn't that she had been on the best of terms with her Mom lately but she wanted so much then to have her here, to be told that somehow it was going to be okay, even if her faith in that was shaky at best.