Sallie Abigail Reynolds (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
realmrsreynolds) wrote2008-04-02 02:25 pm
realmrsreynolds) wrote2008-04-02 02:25 pm
Entry tags:
On Shadow.
Sallie's accustomed by this point in her career in Milliways with bringing people through to her house.
Sometimes however, she does forget to mention that her door leads to the back end of her walk-in pantry.
"Mind the rice bags, please," Sallie throws out behind her. "I haven't had a chance to put them away yet."
'Them', here, meaning 'a stack of burlap bags waist high that restricts the narrow walkway of actual living space to about half of its original width'.
Sallie's concise like that; even she has issues navigating it all.
Sometimes however, she does forget to mention that her door leads to the back end of her walk-in pantry.
"Mind the rice bags, please," Sallie throws out behind her. "I haven't had a chance to put them away yet."
'Them', here, meaning 'a stack of burlap bags waist high that restricts the narrow walkway of actual living space to about half of its original width'.
Sallie's concise like that; even she has issues navigating it all.
no subject
Sam looks into the eyes of the older woman in front of him.
"It's you, isn't it, Sallie?"
no subject
Because--when did Sallie turn into a crazy as fuck psycho freakshow?
Did he miss a memo?
no subject
She's smiling, here, just as she would if she were inviting her son to dinner with her.
"Always been me, sweetheart. Now if you really want to help -- " the cut lengthens under Sam's palm, " --- you'd let me go."
no subject
It's harshly said, tight with anger.
"But first you're gonna let her go. She's not the one who hurt you, and you don't get to use her like this."
Sam glances to the side, and only then spots the amulet his brother's holding up.
"Get that thing off her. Fast."
no subject
Dean lies.
Right now, to get that thing out of Sallie before she ends up bleeding out on the floor, he doesn't really give a damn.
snap
One good yank gets the pendant off Sallie's neck, and it only takes a second to toss it on the table with the scalpels.
You know.
Just to be thorough.
no subject
"You know nothing of me," her words coming rapidly -- her voice changing octave and pitch bending downward to gravel,
Everybody dies alone
" -- You call your way helping." Then, Sallie's eyes are only for her necklace that's far too far away to grab.
no subject
Salt first, covering the pendant that's become the focus of the spirit's grasp on the world and on so many murdered people down through the years.
Then accelerant.
(A lot of it.)
Sam flicks a quick look at Dean, then focuses levelly on Sallie.
"See, helping save people from things like you? It's a family business."
The match hisses as it falls to the table.
no subject
But he and Sam are gonna have a talk, later.
Or maybe not.
no subject
Woomch
in flashes of gray and red, with a mirage of herself floating over top of Sallie's body, blurring edges and reason when the mirage rushes toward the ceiling and dissipates into the tiles.
Whatever screams are offered are short.
In the end of it, the fact the woman is tied to the chair so steadfastly is the main fact behind her not falling sideways to the floor.
no subject
Sam ignores the dying flames on the now-ruined table in favor of rushing back to crouch down in front of her.
"It's okay, you're okay-- Dean, help me get her loose--"
no subject
Dean knocks into Sam's shoulder, maybe trying to push him out of the way.
"You get yourself killed now and so help me God--"
He'll take care of checking Sallie over, thank you very much.
"Never mind. Pass me a knife, willya?"
no subject
"Here."
He hands over the knife and goes to work on loosening the rope holding Sallie's other arm.
no subject
Her eyes are big and bright.
And scared.
She keeps her teeth clenched, and absolutely does not utter a sound.
no subject
Dean waves a little.
Too bad it's the hand with the knife in it.
"Uh. You feelin' all right?"
no subject
Once she's free, Sallie presses downward on her feet, thinking of standing -- she doesn't get very far.
"I remember falling -- "
no subject
"Yeah, um. Sorry about that. Maybe, um-- just take it slow, okay?"
no subject
Her fear dies down to a wordless confusion as her mind calms -- her table, the shattered dishes, Sam's shirt covered in pie filling --
The overall effort leaves Sallie focused on anything except the two boys in her kitchen trying to help her.
no subject
Dean's voice is a little sharp, and he snaps his fingers in front of her face.
"Let's get you set up in your living room, or whatever. Let Sammy clean up in here."
Little brother's duty. The big brother handbook says so.
no subject
(She'll go to the infirmary tomorrow, quietly; she can't work with her hip hurting that bad.)
With Dean's assistance, she heads toward the small spare bedroom just off of the living room, still silent.
no subject
He can't do anything to fix the table, but he finds something that looks like a tablecloth, and uses that to cover it up.
It doesn't take too long; the kitchen's not that big.
no subject
He looks up at Sam when he hears him moving around, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head.
Then he looks at Sallie.
"So. Uh. Since everything here's taken care of now. Uh. We can head on out. Send one of your hands to look in on you."
Or something.
God, this is really friggin' awkward.
no subject
Sam's hovering at the door of the bedroom with equal parts uncertainty and stubbornness clearly apparent.
no subject
He looks a little constipated.
This, this right here, is not gonna be a thing they talk about.
Is it?
"Leave her be, okay? She's got people here that'll take care of her. We--"
He's already shoving past Sam and out the door.
"We've got other shit to do. Come on."
There's other stuff Dean could say, but that's a set of doors he ain't ever gonna open.
Not if he can help it.