Barbara Gordon (alwaysabat) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-11-13 20:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | barbara gordon/oracle |
Who: Barbara Gordon and OTA
What: What is supposed to be a slow night in the Comms cabin.
When: Evening, August 14, 2014
Where: Camp Chitaqua (Camp Winchester)
Why: Because downtime never lasts long when you're in the middle of a war.
For once she didn't have to use the blanket. Generally evenings, especially this late, it became much cooler in camp, but for whatever reason, tonight was ... different. The day had been mild and the night was warm. Almost as if - for the first time - something was trying to calm them into a false sense of security. It was something that none of those in any of the camps could afford to have.
The announcement about the west fence had led her to go through the logs for the last several hours but unfortunately there was nothing that she was finding. It didn't mean it wasn't there, but that area of camp wasn't very well lit, and it was sometimes hard for the equipment they had. Leela was dead... the news sent a chill down her spine that changed the temperature around her. She could remember. Remember the past. Before the end had come. It was bad but it wasn't this bad. If they made it out of this, when the odds were stacked against them... it would be a miracle - especially with God and the angels (Except for Cas).
Barbara wheeled her chair back from the console momentarily, rubbing her temples, removing her glasses and looking around for the cup of coffee she'd had had a few hours ago, but it was nowhere to be seen. Either someone coming in or out had taken it with them, that was something that actually pissed her off a bit. This was the worst possible situation. And no matter how many times Dean yelled at the skies, no one ever answered. They were stuck now. This was their bed, and they'd made it a long time ago. All of them. Just another unfortunately normal day at Chitaqua...
She moved back to the console and started up the satellite scan. Tonight at least, there wouldn't be any attacks. Movement, perhaps, but no attacks. She hoped.