Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
collegedropout) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-12-02 05:47 pm
collegedropout) wrote in driftfleet2015-12-02 05:47 pm
Entry tags:
entry 001 | arrival
Who: Sam and [OPEN] to all!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: December 2nd
[When Sam wakes up, he expects to be laying in his bedroom in the bunker, tired from a particularly long case (clown, there was a clown, he's getting too old for this shit—) but nope. He opens his eyes to stare at a completely foreign ceiling, in a completely foreign bunk. He's of course in his nighttime clothes, to boot. No weapons, no phone, no nothing. Okay. He considers all kinds of possibilities, first. Djinn? Some sort of curse? Witchcraft? Maybe even some sort of dream-root-related snafu, or angels being dicks (somehow). There's also that little elephant in the room, in the back of his head: dude, you know exactly how this kind of thing plays out.
He rises up, easy to spot among a milling, small group with his six feet and four inches of [giraffe-necked] height. When he finally sees the high-tech machinery, the casual and potentially oh-so-different newbies wandering, the absurd amount of space out there — he says but one thing in front of the people around him, first and foremost, to break the ice:]
Well. Shit.
[Well shit indeed. He doesn't panic, but he does suddenly crave another vacation, somewhere without rips in space and time (if that's even the case here; maybe he's a captive to some higher power, because that wouldn't surprise him at all). When he's got the broadcasting thing down — thanks Adstringendum for the life lessons on what to do first — he begrudgingly addresses yet another audience, slipping on that polite and professional (and, okay, exasperated) aura that he's good at.]
So, show of hands. How many of you out there have fallen into other universes before? Because this sort of thing's getting kind of old.
... Did anyone from Adstringendum show up? Guys? Don't tell me the PCD's teleporting feature is going on the fritz or something. I know it was kind of too good to be true, but it was going well for a few months there. [Silly Sam, nothing stays good forever. But he hopes, y'know?] Let me know if I'm riding solo here, fellas.
And, uh. This isn't exactly my first rodeo, sure, but it's the first time I've ever... um... been in space. So I gotta ask, for my sanity: where exactly do us new spacemen go from here? Other than shooting jokes about Roswell, New Mexico.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: December 2nd
[When Sam wakes up, he expects to be laying in his bedroom in the bunker, tired from a particularly long case (clown, there was a clown, he's getting too old for this shit—) but nope. He opens his eyes to stare at a completely foreign ceiling, in a completely foreign bunk. He's of course in his nighttime clothes, to boot. No weapons, no phone, no nothing. Okay. He considers all kinds of possibilities, first. Djinn? Some sort of curse? Witchcraft? Maybe even some sort of dream-root-related snafu, or angels being dicks (somehow). There's also that little elephant in the room, in the back of his head: dude, you know exactly how this kind of thing plays out.
He rises up, easy to spot among a milling, small group with his six feet and four inches of [giraffe-necked] height. When he finally sees the high-tech machinery, the casual and potentially oh-so-different newbies wandering, the absurd amount of space out there — he says but one thing in front of the people around him, first and foremost, to break the ice:]
Well. Shit.
[Well shit indeed. He doesn't panic, but he does suddenly crave another vacation, somewhere without rips in space and time (if that's even the case here; maybe he's a captive to some higher power, because that wouldn't surprise him at all). When he's got the broadcasting thing down — thanks Adstringendum for the life lessons on what to do first — he begrudgingly addresses yet another audience, slipping on that polite and professional (and, okay, exasperated) aura that he's good at.]
So, show of hands. How many of you out there have fallen into other universes before? Because this sort of thing's getting kind of old.
... Did anyone from Adstringendum show up? Guys? Don't tell me the PCD's teleporting feature is going on the fritz or something. I know it was kind of too good to be true, but it was going well for a few months there. [Silly Sam, nothing stays good forever. But he hopes, y'know?] Let me know if I'm riding solo here, fellas.
And, uh. This isn't exactly my first rodeo, sure, but it's the first time I've ever... um... been in space. So I gotta ask, for my sanity: where exactly do us new spacemen go from here? Other than shooting jokes about Roswell, New Mexico.
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Is that a no? Did she just poof into this place?]
A vacation in space, on a reality show?
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Nobody has told her anything about that. :D]
What's a reality show? It sounds boring.
[Hello I am from 1989]
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It's where they film people doing real things. Like... dating.
Or surviving out in a jungle alone for money.
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[Less boring. She'd do it for kicks, god.] Is that's what's going to happen to us then?
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... I guess we're space pirates for a while.
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Do you think we'd be any good at it? We should see if we can find some space parrots. I'm sure they exist somewhere.
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Never owned a parrot before. Seems like an idea.
[Also it will never happen, Katie, so sorry. As he scopes the kitchen out, though, he does continue that stream of jolly good banter; he's too used to it from her by now not to.]
But what if it gets chased by a cat?
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We'd have to get a very fast one. I'd hate for the parrot not to be any challenge.
[I am a cat.]
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Maybe we'll get a dog instead.
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[Blatantly a lie given how much time she spent flopping around in the cabin with Bones and Riot okok.]
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I was just getting him to trust me. Dogs are far too trusting for their own good, you know.
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Well, maybe Riot will follow you here. You never know.
[Pretty sure Dogs In Space is a movie somewhere.]
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You really think he will? Maybe. Don't know how well a dog like him would do in space, though.
He's probably living it up back in Adstringendum.
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Well..maybe we'll visit a place with lots of dogs! Then you can adopt one.
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My own dog kennel, huh? And one cat.
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The cat's needed to keep everyone in line. [Such solemn judgment.] You could have the world's very first space kennel.
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I hear we're shuffled onto ships with other people. So I don't think they'd appreciate that much.
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[3:^) He's not surprised, but still.]
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Like Captain Bligh! [She saw that movie once.] You could make them walk the plank into space. Though I suppose it wouldn't look anywhere near as dramatic, as they'd all float off.
[Conceivably she hasn't followed that thought through to its consequences and realised she's technically advocating murder. Shh.]
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Am I gonna have to put you on pirate watch?
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[:D?]
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