driftfleet | { so have a little mingle }

[The planet continues to be super gross, and now that time and distance away has given Mikleo some of his good health back, he's purging every bit of it from his possessions- and most of Sorey's, too, since they do share a body sometimes. That means today is laundry day!

He's spent the better part of two hours painstakingly scrubbing the pollution out of the Shepherd's garb and his own outfit, clad in one of his alternate colours for once, and is in the middle of drawing the water out of the wet clothing and folding them up to properly sort later. It's all very peaceful and domestic and relaxing and what the heck is that beeping noise!?]

[Hey, Mikelo, listen.

beep beep beep beep

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP--

BrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEE---]

[Sam rounds the corner and is met with a fuzzy, almost glowing imagine of what must certainly be the ghost; of course, he doesn't just expect to see the ghost out and about, because when the hell has that ever happened?! He flails backward, instinctive, looking like a deer in the headlights -- ]

JESUS—

[... And throws his bag of salt compulsively. Enjoy getting peppered with salt.

And probably wearing a bag against your face.

Good times.]

[WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT

WHO THE HECK IS THAT

WHY IS THERE SALT EVERYWHERE

WHY IS THERE A BAG ON HIS HEAD

Well, there's only one way to respond to that- namely, flailing an arm in the direction of the screech (and the shout) and firing off a blast of cold water at his attacker. You enjoy getting hosed, buddy.]

[and lo, sam's mane flattens all about his head

like this:

...........................]

[....................

He slowly drags his hair out of his eyes.]

...

I guess I deserved that.

... Ghosts aren't usually able to wear bags on their heads.

Uh.

I think there's been... a slight misunderstanding...?

[Mikleo yanks the bag off his face and flings it in Sam's direction, though with it being empty, it just sort of flutters pathetically to the ground between them. Fuzzy-looking he may be to Sam, but the salt dusting his hair is plenty visible. He's trembling with indignant anger and it's kind of falling all over the place.]

You think!?

[oh god some weird squirtle man is gonna kill me

He puts his hands up in surrender.]

I'm sorry, I'm sorry — someone told me this place was haunted with a spirit, so I... I was mostly just investigating, and. You're not. That. Um. Sorry. I can help you clean up?

[I MEAN YOU NO HARM, OFFENDED SPIRITUAL SQUIRTBOTTLE.]

[Don't worry, Sam, he has a strict no-kill policy. There is no guarantee against sogginess and colds, though.

He turns with a huff and starts dusting the salt out of his hair, forming another pile to join the rest on the floor.]

There's a closet around the corner with some cleaning supplies, at least have the courtesy of sweeping up the mess. And- you've gotten it in the laundry, now I have to redo it all... ugh...!!

[Damned humans 8( Next step is shaking the salt out of the clothes, too.]

[He's quick to kneel down and start collecting any wayward clothing.]

No, here — Let me —

I'll wash it for you. Sorry. Um.

... [He squints at the fuzzy edges around the... kid? Teenager? He looks young.]

So... Are you usually, uh... A little blurry around the edges, or?

If I am, it just means your resonance isn't up to snuff. I'm surprised you can see me at all.

[He reaches out and tugs at the elaborate white robe Sam's pulled off the floor.]

You can sweep. This is irreplaceable, and I don't even know you.

[Like hell he's going to risk letting some stranger mess up Sorey's clothes. The Shepherd's garb especially is important!]

Right, okay. Yeah, you - go ahead with that.

[As he helps recollect the poor fallen pile, he ventures for a question.]

Resonance?

What would that make you? Ghost? Reaper? ... Imaginary friend?

[100% serious question.]

[s i g h here we go again.]

I'm a seraph. And before you ask, no, not an angel. Or a ghost. Seraph.

... Interesting.

[He looks totally caught by the new information, focused and curious.]

Seraph definitely has a different meaning in my world, then.

Do you mind expanding more? On Seraphs.

[It's a pleasant surprise that he's getting a question and not an argument or assumption, which has happened enough that he actually relaxes somewhat, shaking the salt out of the laundry and setting it all in a pile.]

"Things which cannot be seen or explained, such as gods, spirits, or supernatural phenomena are revered by the people as seraphim." That's what humans call us where I'm from. The most basic definition is elemental spirit.

[He brightens a bit, though he's still making an effort to clean up the salt.]

... That's definitely new for me — well, I mean, I'm familiar with elemental spirits in the sense of the 16th century works by Paracelsus, but I'm betting that's not what you were going for.

You mind telling me more about your kind?

[8D it's cool that you're not trying to murder me

that's usually how these meetings go back home]

[Well, it's not like he minds, but... it's surprisingly difficult to define yourself with specifics. If Sorey were here, he'd probably spout off another ten paragraphs from the Celestial Records or something...]

Hmm... as I said, we're elemental. Each seraph is connected to a specific natural element, the most common being earth, wind, fire, and water. I'm a water seraph, which is why I was able to-

[He lifts the robe into the air with one hand, and the other is raised to call forth a small burst of light. Water swirls to life, creating a bubble around the robe, swishing it about like it's inside a washing machine.]

-do that. Though I imagine it looks different for you than it does for me.

[Oh. Neat. So helpful, those powers. It would be so nice to clean clothes that way, so Dean can't do something offensive to his clothing. Like iron it with beer. He nods, though he looks just as curious as before the explanation.]

Looks different how?

Maybe not you specifically, though you did say I look... blurry. Most mortals can't see seraphim, or hear our voice. A seraphic arte like this would look like water appeared out of nowhere and started washing enchanted clothes.

[He closes a hand into a fist around the robe and pulls it out of the water; once it's free, the sphere dissolves as if it was never there, and the robe looks slightly damp instead of soaked like it should. He hangs it up and goes for the next pile of salted clothing.]

... I see...

[He rubs his chin, thoughtful.]

Must be how often I interact with gods and ghosts and everything inbetween.

[He's just a supernatural magnet, okay. See: him as a six month old.

Crazy shit, man.]

...That... would likely explain it, yes. Humans with natural resonance to begin with have a better chance of seeing seraphim the longer they're in proximity, or so I've been told.

[Interesting. Maybe this guy's similar to Sorey and Rose in that sense?]

I see... I guess that would make sense; I've been surrounded by the supernatural since I was pretty much a baby, and then some. [A soft chuckle. Not only that, but he ended up having powers of his own for a while; if he still has them, has the power to tap into them... he's not sure. He'd be terrified to try it again. Would rather throw himself into a fire, unless the world — or Dean, but fat chance — needed it from him.] I'd honestly be more surprised if I couldn't see you, in that case.

It's the same situation as Sorey, then. He's human, but since he grew up in a seraphim village with me, his resonance developed since we were children.

[It's kind of comforting to know that there are others like that.]

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