Booker DeWitt isn't father of the year (dewitt) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-02-27 22:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, booker dewitt, isabela |
Are you okay? Think I’ll live.
Who: Booker and Isabela
What: Orcs and goblins and hotwiring cars
When: During the Orc Plit
where: Near Isabela's place
Status: complete
Rating: PG-13
Isabela wouldn’t have gone outside - she really did understand Atton’s argument about not fighting while pregnant - except for the fact that the enormous orc had seen fit to crush away half of the house’s front wall at a random moment. She’d just been sitting there, and then the front window had broken, and then the door and the wall between them had caved in.
Atton had pushed it back, yelling for her to get the animals. Isabela reacted as fast as she ever had - Frankie had been sitting next to her, and she simply scooped him up. Churchill was in the bathroom, and she tried to grab him, but that would have required about four hands. Finally she dropped Frankie, picked up the cat and told the dog, “You follow me! Don’t run anywhere!” After meeting Lilo, she knew they understood.
True enough, Frankie followed her out of the house. Isabela knew Atton would be fine; in the meantime, she made for the neighbor’s house. Hopefully she could find some shelter there while the threat passed. She banged on the door with her free hand, coughing as the ash began to get to her.
No one seemed to answer, in fact everyone was probably so terrified that they thought she was an orc! One charged up behind her, only for it’s head to disappear into a fine, black mist. A man wearing a white handkerchief like a mask was holding a revolver. Booker turned, shooting another orc as it ran up the street, then beckoned for her. “This way!”
The ground rumbled as an ogre of all things came lumbering towards them. The man’s left hand started to burn and spark, then he flung a small, somewhat pathetic ball of flame towards it. A moment later he threw what looked like a green, ghostly woman towards a small goblin. The creature turned and attacked it’s friend.
Isabela could only stare, lucky that she had the training to keep her head. Eventually she heard him yell for her to run, and run she did. Churchill seemed to understand that crazy things were going on, so he just let himself be carried. She heard Frankie barking, and she shouted for him. “Frankie! Here, Frankie!” She ran behind the man, hoping shelter was near.
“There’s a garage over there,” Booker drawled. The size of his fireball was disappointing, it was much bigger in the dreams and he needed a serious recharge. He reloaded and fired his revolver again. “I’ll give you cover!”
“Can do!” Isabela ducked into the doorway, making sure Frankie got inside before yanking the door shut. She put the cat down, telling the animals “Don’t go too far!” before turning her attention back toward the door. Fucking hell, she felt sick. Now was not the time to throw up.
Booker ran out of bullets as he drew the creatures away from Isabela, then he turned and ran with several of them chasing after him. He flung another fireball and hid. The orcs ran past his hidey hole, and he waited a few minutes before he came out and jogged back to Isabela. Mostly jogged, because he was coughing like a bitch.
Isabela was still sitting on the ground, head between her knees. She looked up, hoping her gag reflex calmed down. “Thanks, mate,” she said, managing a smile. “Let me ... just hang on.” She breathed deeply. “Not scared or whatever - not particularly. Just pregnant.”
Booker tore at his shirt. “Here, cover your mouth with this, ain’t sure what the ash could do to you right now.”
Isabela did so, looking around worriedly for her animals. “Not sure what the cat and dog should do,” she said. “Churchill! Frankie? Here, kids.” She had her own shirt, and she started to rip at it. She had a bra on, and enough men had seen her tits before.
Booker started to work to close the garage door, the gears grinding against the ash. It took forever, but he got it closed before any more of those creatures noticed there was manflesh to consume. "Jesus fuck."
She managed to get little scraps of fabric around the animals’ heads. It made a difference knowing they understood her. Turning back up to the bloke, she asked, “Are you okay? Think I’ll live.” She coughed a bit, but that couldn’t be helped.
“Gonna need a lung transplant. An’ to stop smokin’.” He beat a hand on his chest. He was not much the worse for wear after Neena accidentally choked him, but it had still been stupid to go out in this. He’d needed to work out his emotional trauma.
“Can’t help with that, alas.” Isabela closed her eyes. “Who are you? Do you live nearby?”
"Name's Booker DeWitt, an' I was just passin' through," He said, peering out the window. "What're you doing out?"
“I’m Isabela. Isabela Rand. My husband and I live about a block down.” She paused to take a deep breath, coughing a little out. “One of these things took out the front wall of our house. Husband ran after the thing, and I tried to run to the neighbour’s with the pets to find shelter.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Atton can take care of himself. So can I, when I’m not pregnant.”
“Yeah that kinda gets in the way of shit, I try to avoid it,” Booker joked, but he was half serious. Have a baby once and have her stolen from you and you never want to put up with that again.
“I did too, but it sort of happens. At least the husband’s staying.” Isabela had always been a bit relieved by that, from day one.
“He ever leaves I can hunt him down.” He located a bullet in his vest pocket and loaded it. “Kinda what I do, track down deadbeat husbands.”
Isabela laughed. “I’d say no offer necessary, and I really don’t think Atton will go anywhere, but I’ve learnt to never turn down a favour. So I’ll keep it in mind.” She looked around for the animals. “Churchill! Stay close. Sorry,” she said to Booker. “My cat and dog understand English. Rather handy.”
He eyed the animals. Right. She was pregnant so he’ll forgive her her crazy hormones. “Okay, so I think it’s clear back to your house, but I ain’t sure how secure that is.”
Isabela rolled her eyes. “Mate, trust me, if orcs and trolls can appear, I can prove that they understand me. But anyway. The front of the house is fucked, but maybe my husband is back by now. Are you going to be all right, or you need a place to go?”
“I need to get back to my shop. I got ammo there an’ some other weapons.” He wondered if Neena was okay. Fuck that bitch. Fucker fucking fucky fuck.
Isabela saw that he didn’t look very enthused about it. “Maybe we can try and get you there? At least give you backup.” If she could find Atton around the house, they could at least give him some help to get back to his place.
“Might be safer there.” He didn’t feel right leaving a pregnant woman standing around fending for herself. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
“Me? Oh, I’m all right.” She worried about the ash, but she knew how to handle knives. And guns, of a certain type. “I mean ... in theory it might be better, but these things can open doors, can’t they?” She was afraid for Churchill and Frankie more than herself.
“In theory. They ain’t stupid but they ain’t smart either. Kinda run into the fireballs.” He looked around, wishing there was something he could use to regen.
“I can fight with knives, but I don’t actually have any. So hiding is probably better.” Isabela knew her limitations. “Is your place far? And can the animals come?” If not, she’d stay here, consequences be damned.
“Farther than I’d like but I bet I can hotwire this car.” He looked at the car in the garage, then walked over and broke the window.
“Handy.” Isabela commented, watching. “Something I’d like to know. Husband’s a smuggler, he probably knows, but I stick with the charming people and using my breasts to win at cards.” She couldn’t help but smirk.
“Well come over here an’ watch,” he said, popping the access panel under the drive shaft. “And keep your breasts to yourself I ain’t needin’ a pissed off husband on my ass.”
Isabela rolled her eyes. “No offense, mate, but I’ve got better at home.” Still, she shut up, figuring he was doing her a favor.
“None taken.” He walked her through cutting the wires and which ones to press together to spark it into starting. He got it to start, then cut the engine. “Okay your turn.”
“Okay.” Isabela wasn’t sure she could get it all from one hurried tutorial, but she managed decently well; she missed a step in the middle but otherwise got the hang of it. “Not bad for a first shot.” She could hear the animals panting behind her, and it made her slightly anxious. “Can you fix it? Or do we need to start again?”
“I think we’re good to go.” He looked at her then at the animals, wondering if they should go to the hospital instead, at least for some oxygen.
“Okay.” Isabela reached into the broken window, unlocking the doors. “In the back, kids. Up!” The dog and cat jumped into the backseat without another word. “You want to drive, or me?”
“I’ll drive, I know the way.” He hit the garage door and got into the car. They ended up running over a goblin, which made a squishing thunkathunka sound.
“All right.” Isabela went around to the passenger side, climbing in and making sure the door closed. “Obliged. I mean, staying in the street with this lot would probably be a bad recipe.”
“Definitely,” He said, and floored it.