driftfleet | [voice.] stop poking your augments???????

Who: Sam and Dean
Broadcast: Sam (with Dean in the background); fleetwide panic! :)
Action: There will be a post-incident section on the Red Fish! Read below.
When: After this. Warning for sorta suicide-y augment removal attempt. It's miserable.

(As a note, this entry has suicide-y augment removal attempt talk, too.)

[VOICE.]

[Sam is currently busy wrestling a heavily bleeding brother and is also trying to work a network device, so sorry if his shaky voice entry is a little concerning. He'd text it if it wasn't, y'know, his friggin' brother bleeding out in front of him. If he sounds like he's barely masking his own panic, that's because he is. He's doing pretty okay, okay. He's good at being calm under pressure, though it's a bit more of a challenge when it's Dean in danger.]

This is Sam on the Red Fish — Coil, Beverly, Allen, Jennifer, um...! Anyone with healing or medical experience or lab support, I need — [Dean can be heard in the background, pissed off and maybe a little sluggish from, y'know, the usual bullshit: "I don't need to be saved, goddammit-"] I need someone here. Someone's bleeding a lot from a, an injury to the neck, and I can't —

[A breath, to calm himself.]

My brother's hurt really bad. I'll try to patch it up, but I need — help.

["Son of a bitch, I swear- it's not- I don't need help!"]

Shut up —

[He cuts the feed.]

[ACTION (LATER ON)]

[After Dean's been laid down in the Red Fish's medical section (and here Sam thought the Coil and Winter fiasco would be the only reason he'd need to see people laid up recently), Sam can be found with his brother. He's not taking his eye off him, not for a goddamn while, trust him. There are a few ways people can run into the two brothers the next few days: one, they could run into Sam while Dean's drugged up and asleep. He's sitting firmly with his arms folded, blood still on his clothes and exhaustion in his expression. Dude should really sleep.

Or - once Dean's awake and mildly alert, they may find the rare occasion where Sam's accidentally fallen asleep beside the guy, buried face-first in the bed sheets or tipped backward and snoring on occasion. He doesn't mean to even go to sleep, but it's about on par with falling asleep because Lucifer's hallucinations won't leave you alone. No, okay, this is better than that, but. Anyway. He's out.

Or, if you want to bother both of them at the same time, it's easy to walk in and find them afterward. Sam's maybe got a book, or maybe it looks like they've just had a glaring match, or something. Probably bickering. Or probably intense family conversation they're quick to mask when a visitor comes in. Let's be real, though, Dean's gonna probably hate your dumb hospital visit.

Sam would just like to say: shut up and take your friggin' blood.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Cara hesitates. Should she offer her services? Richard would expect her to. He wouldn't let a man suffer. ]

I can bring him back. If it seems too late.

[It takes him a moment to respond because... well. You know how it is.

When he does it's breathless, unsure, rough.]

He's not going to die.

[He says it in a way that says he won't let it happen, more than it being a fact.]

How do you? Bring people back?

[ She doesn't argue the statement. She knows how irrational people get when dying is a possibility. ]

The breath of life. Recalling his spirit soon after is not difficult.

[He looks at her for a moment — blood on his cheek, because wounds that bleed a lot tend to find ways to ruin everything around it.]

With what? — Witchcraft?

[ She frowns. ]

I am no witch. There are no pacts or vows necessary. Either you use me or you don't.

[He laughs, surprisingly, but it's a bit dark and startled.

Oh, lady. He's drained here, covered in blood, and he's done this song and dance.]

Trust me, you can still get screwed over plenty without more details.

I can't use what I don't understand, unless you explain.

There is none. I am a Mord'Sith. It is how it works. Men come back as themselves. Not undead or suffering or lost.

[ she's not even annoyed. ]

I do not care if you use it or not. I'm not here to collect favors or bargains.

Mord'Sith. Can you — [He bites his lip, and is gone for a spell; whatever he went off to do, he's back a few precious moments later.] Can you at least... give me a definition? A description. I, um.

[His voice softens, rough.]

I'll keep it in mind.

[ Her voice is curt but honest. ]

A Mord'Sith is a special warrior. Due to our upbringing, we repel magic and keep this one innate talent. The Breath of Life. I have used it on people. It does not place them under my control or turn them into shells of what they are. They remain living, breathing creatures. But the wound must be closed so that the same issue does not arise once they are brought back.

I only offer because it is what Richard would want. He would not want someone to die needlessly. . . . Neither do I.

[.............]

I'll contact you again if it comes to anything.

[But — he's not sure.

He doesn't want to go against Dean, and if this bites Dean on the ass in some way... it'll be on Sam. And god knows Sam has had some shit happen from being healed or otherwise resurrected incorrectly.]

... Thank you.

Thank me if you need me. Not for the offer alone.

... Thanks for not needing a thanks, then.

[He's gotta go now, but.

He'll remember.]

[voice.] stop poking your augments???????

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