Ellen Harvelle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justrunsasaloon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kore_logs2013-06-22 11:03 am
justrunsasaloon) wrote in kore_logs2013-06-22 11:03 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Mama BearEllen and you!
Where: The land of dreeeeeams
When: Days 83-88
Warnings: Canonical death, destruction, demons… it’s Supernatural, so be warned
1. There’s propane tanks wired together. Pails of rock salt and nails are next to them. At the counter, two figures are huddled together, bloody, sweaty, with tear lines on their face. A blonde head rests against the shoulder of the older woman. Jo’s body is warm next to her. Their hands clasp around the switch together.
Then, there’s nothing but stillness. “Honey?” Her voice cracks. Her lips quiver when there’s no answer. She looks straight ahead and doesn’t blink. “Jo –“ The sob breaks free and her hand tightens on Jo’s. “It’s okay; it’s okay.” She sobs out. It is. It’s going to be okay. Ellen leans over and kisses Jo on the head. Her baby girl. “That’s my good girl.” She whispers.
She leans her head back and swallows the tears. A warm breath stirs her head and she glances out of the corner of her eye. “You can go straight back to hell, you ugly bitch!”
2. The pickup truck roars down the road, the windows open, headed for someplace unknown. Scenery whizzes past. Ellen is younger and looking at a map. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and her bare feet are on the dash. The nails are bright pink.
She’s munching on some fries. The other man is tall, lean. There’s a tattoo on his forearm that is simply her name and a heart. He tries to steal her fries. Ellen moves them out of the way without looking.
“Ellen.”
“Bill.”
The man, his green eyes laughing, huffs out a sigh. “I’m hungry.”
“Sure does suck.” She throws a fry at him and goes back to studying the map, marking something on it before stuffing a couple fries in her mouth. Then she starts laughing as he leans over and mouths her neck while still keeping his eyes on the road. “ACK! Drive! Drive, Bill! Eyes on the road!” She laughs, squirming away from him against the door. “Here, you big baby.” She offers her fries, laughing.
“Thank you.” He grins and pops a few into his mouth.
3. The roadhouse is empty and quiet. Ellen sits at a table. There are chairs on the other tables. The bar is clean, sparkling glasses shining from the towel they’re drying on. The jukebox is turned off. The fans overhead squeak softly.
In front of her is a picture of a blond man with green eyes, his arm around her and a pretty blonde baby girl in his other. There’s a bottle of whiskey in front of her and an empty tumbler.
Ellen’s eyes well with tears and then they fall down her cheeks, streaking through the dust from finishing up the evening cleaning. The door gently swings in the wind behind John Winchester as he left. She can’t quite feel yet.
A sob breaks free and Ellen’s fingers brush over the photograph. Her head falls forward onto her arm and she sobs to the floor, screaming out her husband’s name. She curls in on herself and just cries. She can’t breathe properly and the tears spatter her arm, the floor, her legs. She doesn’t care.
A warm hand lands on her shoulder and she jerks, falling off the chair. She stares upwards.
“Ellen, honey? What happened? Is it Joanna Beth? Where is she? What’s wrong?”
She surges up and grabs him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Bill… Bill, you’re okay. You’re okay.”
He cradles her to him. “Of course.” His head drops to drop a kiss on her shoulder. “What happened? Where’s Jo?”
“She’s fine. She’s… she’s with Felicia. I thought you were… John said that –“
He cups her face. “Of course I’m fine. It was just a demon. What did Winchester say?” He looks like his temper is sparking.
Ellen just shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s okay. Let’s go get Jo.”
Where: The land of dreeeeeams
When: Days 83-88
Warnings: Canonical death, destruction, demons… it’s Supernatural, so be warned
1. There’s propane tanks wired together. Pails of rock salt and nails are next to them. At the counter, two figures are huddled together, bloody, sweaty, with tear lines on their face. A blonde head rests against the shoulder of the older woman. Jo’s body is warm next to her. Their hands clasp around the switch together.
Then, there’s nothing but stillness. “Honey?” Her voice cracks. Her lips quiver when there’s no answer. She looks straight ahead and doesn’t blink. “Jo –“ The sob breaks free and her hand tightens on Jo’s. “It’s okay; it’s okay.” She sobs out. It is. It’s going to be okay. Ellen leans over and kisses Jo on the head. Her baby girl. “That’s my good girl.” She whispers.
She leans her head back and swallows the tears. A warm breath stirs her head and she glances out of the corner of her eye. “You can go straight back to hell, you ugly bitch!”
2. The pickup truck roars down the road, the windows open, headed for someplace unknown. Scenery whizzes past. Ellen is younger and looking at a map. Her hair is up in a ponytail, and her bare feet are on the dash. The nails are bright pink.
She’s munching on some fries. The other man is tall, lean. There’s a tattoo on his forearm that is simply her name and a heart. He tries to steal her fries. Ellen moves them out of the way without looking.
“Ellen.”
“Bill.”
The man, his green eyes laughing, huffs out a sigh. “I’m hungry.”
“Sure does suck.” She throws a fry at him and goes back to studying the map, marking something on it before stuffing a couple fries in her mouth. Then she starts laughing as he leans over and mouths her neck while still keeping his eyes on the road. “ACK! Drive! Drive, Bill! Eyes on the road!” She laughs, squirming away from him against the door. “Here, you big baby.” She offers her fries, laughing.
“Thank you.” He grins and pops a few into his mouth.
3. The roadhouse is empty and quiet. Ellen sits at a table. There are chairs on the other tables. The bar is clean, sparkling glasses shining from the towel they’re drying on. The jukebox is turned off. The fans overhead squeak softly.
In front of her is a picture of a blond man with green eyes, his arm around her and a pretty blonde baby girl in his other. There’s a bottle of whiskey in front of her and an empty tumbler.
Ellen’s eyes well with tears and then they fall down her cheeks, streaking through the dust from finishing up the evening cleaning. The door gently swings in the wind behind John Winchester as he left. She can’t quite feel yet.
A sob breaks free and Ellen’s fingers brush over the photograph. Her head falls forward onto her arm and she sobs to the floor, screaming out her husband’s name. She curls in on herself and just cries. She can’t breathe properly and the tears spatter her arm, the floor, her legs. She doesn’t care.
A warm hand lands on her shoulder and she jerks, falling off the chair. She stares upwards.
“Ellen, honey? What happened? Is it Joanna Beth? Where is she? What’s wrong?”
She surges up and grabs him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Bill… Bill, you’re okay. You’re okay.”
He cradles her to him. “Of course.” His head drops to drop a kiss on her shoulder. “What happened? Where’s Jo?”
“She’s fine. She’s… she’s with Felicia. I thought you were… John said that –“
He cups her face. “Of course I’m fine. It was just a demon. What did Winchester say?” He looks like his temper is sparking.
Ellen just shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s okay. Let’s go get Jo.”
no subject
"Here." She dishes out a slice for each of them, not terribly bothered by the fact that they haven't eaten dinner yet. Considering the circumstances? It was a special occasions. They didn't need to stand on formalities.
She slides a piece towards Bill before pushing the other towards Ellen, then takes the beer her mother brought for her and helps herself to the seat directly to Bill's right, not wanting to dare to let herself get further away than that.
"So you -- you're gonna hang around for awhile, right? Before running off on another job?" she asks, her voice just a touch hopeful.
no subject
"So, he's spending the night then going out again." Ellen smirks and nudges his boot with her own. He snorts and bends over, trying to nibble at her neck but Ellen scoots out of his way. "Eat your pie. You still smell like the road." She points at his plate, eating her own.
"Slave driver. She still making you do all them chores she insists will make you a better person?"
Ellen rolls her eyes. She works just as hard as anyone else.
no subject
She helps herself to her own slice of pie, that smile hitching wider as she lets herself become more comfortable with the situation. Maybe she shouldn't -- it's tempting fate -- but she can't help it. "He can shower later. Not like we ain't around guys who smell like the road all the time anyway. Could be worse."
He could have been covered in monster guts.
He could have been dead.
no subject
"We may be around them all the time, doesn't mean your Daddy is one of them." Ellen puts in. An old argument, an old agreement, something familiar to go with this dream of blissful domesticity.
Bill snorts, eating his pie. "See how mean she is to me darlin'? Mama never gives me a rest." He grunts when Ellen kicks his foot. "And now she's kicking me. Don't make me call your Daddy."
"Ha! He'd shoot you first." Ellen grins, stealing a cherry from Jo's plate.