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

Entry tags:

[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.]

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[ 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.

[She won't demand an explanation until after medical help or healing has been arranged-- there are priorities, and she can't help, and much as that hurts to admit she keeps her mouth shut in the first flurry of replies. Gives it a small amount of time, in which she finds someone to cover the last part of her shift at the bar, and rearranges the next couple of Sam's besides.

Then she'll ask. But she's already on her way to the Red Fish.]

What happened?

[She really hopes her first guess is wrong. Punching Dean while he's recovering probably won't endear her to anyone.]

I can help.

[ She wishes, again, absently, that the Atroma had left her with her healing magic, but - now she will have to deal with just her traditional spellwork and potions. ]

Let me know exactly where you are and I can come and help him. I have my magic, and some potions that should help ease the pain, too.

[Misty was down in the swamps, not paying any attention to the network when Sam's original call for help went out. Eventually, though, she sees, and now she feels real bad about it, that she wasn't there for him in the beginning. So she shows up at the Red Fish toting a jar filled with what suspiciously looks like mud - or worse.

She pauses uncertainly in the door, staring at the two brothers.]

Hey.

[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?

[It's good, that's good. Sam finally got a breath of fresh air. He hasn't quite changed out of his clothes, but he's at least washed his hands and anywhere else the blood had gotten. It's not... too bad. Blood always seems like there's more than there actually is. It just. Looks bad. That's what he tells himself, so he doesn't think too intensely about how bad this whole thing was.

He wipes his hands off on his pants and replies.

On voice, of course.]

He tried to take the augment out. But — but it's okay. He'll be okay.

Sorry, I was gonna call you.

Please.

[He says it whole-heartedly, sincerely, voice heavy with concern.]

He's — I'm getting him laying down. He's gonna be pissed about anything witch-related; if we don't tell him what it is, he should be okay. He's, uh, he's got a job-related... prejudice.

[But if he tells Dean who Hermione is, maybe he'll be okay with it.

Maybe??]

I'm in Red Fish's medical lab.

[Misty is fortunately late enough to the party that Sam's tossed his bloody clothing and washed up — and got Dean into a clean shirt, too (while bitching the entire time about how they have to replace some of their clothes, because that's how Winchester life is, fucking save them). He had been apparently in the middle of talking with a pretty drugged-up brother, smiling as friendly as ever to the witch.]

Ah — hey, Misty. Sorry, you checking in? I should've updated everyone...

[Don't mind Dean, he'll probably say something he shouldn't somewhere in this thread.]

[ She frowns. ]

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

I've got ears. [She's been listening. There was no need to call. And goddammit, that is her first guess. Here she'd thought Dean was smart.

Whether or not his video function is on is moot because she'll be there in about two minutes. So in the meantime:]

How the hell did he get so far? It inflicts horror on anyone who tries. Does he not know how to read warning signs or what?

The atroma probably enjoyed the show; as far as I can tell, something stopped him from finishing the job, though.

[He lowers his voice, softer now.]

... He doesn't care what happens to him.

I think... as far as he's concerned, he doesn't have anything to lose.

[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.

Then he's an asshole.

[It doesn't matter if Cas is gone, and that's something that wrenches deep down because she knows Cas has nothing to go back to. He could come back. And Sye has proven Dean will come back too, so he's a stupid asshole, and carving up his own neck when his brother is right there on the ship--

Well, you know what, she's already gone on rants previously about throwing things away you shouldn't. There's a hiss of breath through her teeth, and then she adds more evenly:]

I can think of a couple of things he has to lose. Are you okay? Didn't get hit with the knife?

[Because lbr it's pretty obvious there was wrestling of weaponry involved here.]

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.

[He blinks on his end, surprised.]

Ah — no, I'm. I'm fine. It's not like it was a fight or anything. It was more, um, me plugging his neck up with towels and yelling at him a lot. [He chuckles weakly, because... that's what you do when horrible shit happens. You fake a smile or laugh weakly like an idiot who walked into a stop sign post.] He's not — Okay, he's an asshole, but... He's just... He's hurting, and he doesn't know how to deal. And the augment thing freaks him out a lot.

[Dean's not used to universe jumping and being under someone's control quite like this. And he's from a world where he was damn sick of it and destiny and all of that, too. It makes sense in Sam's head, even if he wants to throttle Dean with words of guilt-stirring kindness and brotherly love. Or cursing and the desire to punch him. Whichever.

He rubs his eyes.]

I don't think he really sees me as, uh. His Sam. Y'know? And I mean, I'm not. He lost his Sam, so he probably thinks he really doesn't... I don't know. I — he's still my brother, no matter what he feels.

[He smiles weakly, sounding a bit like he's pleading for advice.

For once.]

I don't know what to do.

Edited 2016-08-23 07:05 (UTC)

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.

[.....]

Asshole.

[But there's less heat to it, more a mutter as she shifts her attention. Hell, maybe she's calling Sam an asshole now, who knows? She's angry, but it's that adrenalin reaction, the JFC that was close of tempers.

Lost his Sam. Yeah, she know how that went. This situation isn't fair on either of them.]

Stay with him. [You're asking, so here's her advice.] There's not much else you can do, Sam. Just... don't let him wake up all muzzy and try anything else on top. It's the best you can do for you, too.

And change your shirt. If there's blood on it when I get there, I'm gonna throw a fit.

Just tell him I have a lab augment, that should do it. It's not a lie.

[ She has the correct augment for this but she knows that most of her aid is going to come in the form of magic and actual potion based healing, but if Dean doesn't appreciate it then she can keep it quiet. It's not as if she's blind to prejudice against witches and wizards; she's read the history. ]

I'm on my way. Just make sure he stays lying down, and - and try and put pressure on the wound as much as possible, okay? I'll be there as fast as the shuttle can take me.

[ The fate of a Winchester: a never ending supply of clothing needed simply because of war wounds. Or stupidity. Or both. Granted, now that Dean's drugged, there's both little and too much he cares about, a lessening of all the things he usually worries about but leaving him more verbose. Dean seems inclined to grumble about the stupidest of nonsense, though perhaps the fact that he's speaking at all should win him some points? He's not sure, but it takes him a second to drag his attention sideways at the appearance of a new visitor, interest peaking. ]

Welcome to the shit show.

[ Because it looks like you have a jar of poo. ]

[Excuse you, it's a jar of dirt.

And moss.

And some poo.

Misty giggles and steps into the room further.]

Looks like they got you doped up real good though.

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

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.

Totally no blood on my shirt; I'm good.

[... He says as he starts unbuttoning a bloody plaid shirt.]

You don't... Um, don't worry about rushing. Dean's just passed out and resting. Not that I wouldn't mind some company, but Dean's hard enough to be around when he's bedridden.

[A-ahahaha......]

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[voice] oh yeah it's still voice eternally shh; also privated now

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