Jo's got more than a few knives on her, but it's still a grating thing not to be able to bring her sword here. Or anything larger than a knife. She's pretty sure the number of knives currently on her is probably breaking that rule, too, but it's not like anyone's going to know without a dedicated patdown. Post a few hours in the Hunting Grounds, picking up a crossbow and giving it back; it needles a little deeper even. That not having of something more substantial.
Jo contracted off what she hunted to a butcher with contacts for a tanner and a few other people. She hadn't been listening. She did it for the money, which bothers her, in all of this. It's been a month since she got out the doors of Caden and over two since she first got to go hunting here. But this? Isn't hunting.
Or it is. But it's not the kind of hunting that's digging deeper into Jo's bones the longer she can't do it. The zombies had softened that for a handful of days, but this place isn't home, and she can't do the only job she wants to, needs to, be doing here. And four months is starting to grate harder and harder. At least when she was locked in her mother's bar, hunters were still coming in and out who were doing the job. No one is here.
It's in the back of her teeth. She hit the gambling hall yesterday. She hit the Hunting Grounds this morning. She's done more than she needs to keep up her part of everything. Getting more into her pocket to get herself back to the right setup (for a life that doesn't need that set up, even if she does).
Which leaves her at ends. It leaves her wandering aimlessly through the streets, which is how she finds herself among the newest shops with pieces brought in from all the locations to sell to other Summoned. She browses some book spines, even while thinking the Bunker has a billion she hasn't read yet. Then, she moves on to the potions. They're all sizes and colors, and Jo doesn't even know if she cares, but she ends up asking the guy next to her without much more than a first glance.
ɴᴏ ᴅᴀᴡɴ, ɴᴏ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴡɪʟɪɢʜᴛ
Jo contracted off what she hunted to a butcher with contacts for a tanner and a few other people. She hadn't been listening. She did it for the money, which bothers her, in all of this. It's been a month since she got out the doors of Caden and over two since she first got to go hunting here. But this? Isn't hunting.
Or it is. But it's not the kind of hunting that's digging deeper into Jo's bones the longer she can't do it. The zombies had softened that for a handful of days, but this place isn't home, and she can't do the only job she wants to, needs to, be doing here. And four months is starting to grate harder and harder. At least when she was locked in her mother's bar, hunters were still coming in and out who were doing the job. No one is here.
It's in the back of her teeth. She hit the gambling hall yesterday. She hit the Hunting Grounds this morning. She's done more than she needs to keep up her part of everything. Getting more into her pocket to get herself back to the right setup (for a life that doesn't need that set up, even if she does).
Which leaves her at ends. It leaves her wandering aimlessly through the streets, which is how she finds herself among the newest shops with pieces brought in from all the locations to sell to other Summoned. She browses some book spines, even while thinking the Bunker has a billion she hasn't read yet. Then, she moves on to the potions. They're all sizes and colors, and Jo doesn't even know if she cares, but she ends up asking the guy next to her without much more than a first glance.
"What are you looking for?"