Sookie Stackhouse

With the gun laying right out in the open for all to see, Sookie Stackhouse was almost surprised that no one had taken it into their possession earlier. Wrapped in a length of pale lavender ribbon, it was a lighter model than the one that had graced the Stackhouse parlor, easily balanced in Sookie's arms as she picked it up from where it leaned against the side of her hut, several boxes of rounds resting by its base. The amount of detail on its side made it almost a piece of art, however morbid Sookie felt at the thought. She hadn't held a shotgun in her hands since the day Rene attacked— Sam had been the one to replace the shotgun she'd abandoned in her desperation to escape. It felt so long ago, now.

"Well," she breathed, practically speaking at the weapon as she leaned down to pull it away from where it rested, feeling the weight with a toss or two. "I may not be a member of the NRA, but with all the stuff that happens 'round here, it'd be ungrateful if I didn't take you in, wouldn't it?" Her brow furrowed as an eggshell-colored tag revealed itself, her name written in fine gold script. Ripping both it and the ribbon off, Sookie checked the barrel of the gun, leaning her back against the wall of her hut as she cracked open a box of ammo and loaded it in record time.

Her lips curved into a wry grin, mirthless, if firm. "Still got it."


[ This post is dated January 23rd, but will be linked to the main comm in February. ST/LT welcome, no limit on tags, open to all. ]