InsaneJournal

Who: Chris and OTA.
What: He can't stand to wait around for anything else bad to happen.
Where: Forest west of the gas station.
When: Day 26, around 8am.
Rating: PG.
Status: Active.



However many days it had been, Chris was already tired of this place. Physically and mentally wore out. The brief venture home had been nice, he supposed, though all it really did was remind him of his reasons for traveling to the past. It recharged his spirits to an extent, but couldn't do too much good as the moment he had fallen asleep the night before in the gym his mind was haunted by visions of Piper. Visions of the dead thing that had looked like his mother and he wasn't exactly convinced hadn't been.

Sleep was fitful and eventually he gave up, worried about waking up the others should he get too caught up in a nightmare. He remembered Wyatt threatening him one time, before the boys got separate rooms, if he wouldn't shut up while he slept. Chris thought about watching over the others, his whitelighter instincts wanted him to so the innocents could be kept safe from any threat, but then the back of his hand itched and he looked down to see the ink that marred his skin.

First came shock and surprise, which was likely anyone's reaction. Then came a deeper sort of worry and anxiety. Once upon a time those thought to practice witchcraft were marked. Branded so all would know who among their communities were pagans and should be watched. The Charmed Ones' power came from some who had been condemned at Salem after all; with how well he knew the sisters' history (his family's history, Chris sometimes had to remind himself) it could practically be expected that his thoughts would drift to such things at times. Anger was a good cover for such feelings, and that had filled his mind as he scribbled in his notebook before leaving the gym. Leaving those he was beginning to think of as friends.

The thrift store was his first stop, where he managed to find a pair of jeans that fit him a little better, as well as a decent-sized backpack. He grabbed a spare shirt while he was there, just in case, then orbed himself to the gas station to see what supplies were left. Since he was still recovering he needed to keep his strength up. Instinct also demanded he keep in mind those close to him. It was a relief to see the place appeared freshly stocked and he didn't bother to question it. A few bottles of water were tossed in the pack, as well as some candy and granola bars, enough for two or three days, depending on how much he shared. The last thing he grabbed was a pack of rags and a mini sewing kit he found in one of the back aisles. While he might lament there not being any sort of proper grocery store in the place -- though he would never expect it to be remotely fully stocked as giving them that much food would be far too nice -- Chris never appreciated the random assortment of things that could be found in a gas station until that morning.

An hour later found him deep in the forest, inspecting a small patch of blooming plants for anything he could use. One of the rags had already been made into a small pouch to hold herbs and tied shut, stowed away safely in one of the small pockets in the backpack. Chris had been there how many days now and had yet to even attempt making a potion? It was unacceptable. If he couldn't find a way to escape the least he could do was try to look after himself. And my friends. a quiet voice added in the back of his head. That, and looking for potion ingredients kept him busy so his mind had no time to stress him out further.