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)
driftfleet2016-11-02 08:46 pm
collegedropout) wrote in driftfleet2016-11-02 08:46 pm
text/action. we aaaall are living in a dreaaam but life ain't what it seeems
Who: Sam Winchester
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Red Fish / Iskaulit Bar
When: November 2nd (or somewhere abouts, if you need a different day)
Warnings: post might deal with mental illness-related talk, potential darker themes like conversations regarding non-consensual icky hallucinations, memory/mention of torture, etc. It's possible that it'll be a pretty light post and none of this comes up depending on how threads go, but I wanted to put out a blanket warning in case I forget. This is a heavier post from Sam! No happy augment glitches today or alien chicks with pancakes, sorry buddies. :(
[ACTION]
Sometimes augment updates happen in pretty unextraordinary ways. Sam laid down to sleep on the 30th, and woke up the 31st to find that he had a vast array of new memories and scars — but not quite so simple. He remembers being bound by his ankles and wrists to the chair in a sodden, dark basement. He remembers the hallucinations, vivid and painful. He remembers the knife cutting skin, the smell of his own flesh seared by a blowtorch. When he wakes up on the ship, he does so disoriented and pale with shock, sweat drenching his pillow.
It almost all feels like a dream.
Almost.
The image of Toni Bevell feels impossible to scrub from his mind. But this... This place — the fleet... he hasn't seen it in many months. It's as he remembers, but with the augment update, there's a sensation of falseness. Is this even real? How is he supposed to know? Not too long ago, he had wholeheartedly believed that he and Toni were lovers, confidants, not at all strangers, and certainly not one being a torturer. He had put so much faith in that hallucination — and it had felt so vivid — that there was a horrible shame and disgust and emptiness when he realizes he'd been played like a golden fiddle.
Toni had just smiled, proud of her savagery.
And here lies Sam's great dilemma: he doesn't trust any of this.
Sure, his foot is scarred, and he's got freshly pink and shiny marks where he'd been shot, sliced. But there's a strange emptiness he feels when he gets out of bed, showers, and redresses for the day. It's Halloween. Strange. He checks the roster on the ship. There's someone named Carl. He remembers noting their arrival before and making a note to meet with them properly; a kid, right? Right. He puts on a smile and goes to work at the bar aboard the Iskaulit, but everything feels robotic in gesture, like he's just going through the motions. He's a decent actor, but this augment shift is really making him misstep.
Dean's dead, Sam's alone, he's in a basement, she wants information.
Is he even really here?
Would he even remember the basement, if this were just another hallucination? His mind is working in circles, trying to figure it out. What's he told her? What does he not remember? What has she tricked out of him? He has to be careful. He has to keep his mouth shut about anything she'd want to know. Just... go through the motions. She'd said his brain'd melt, if she did the mind tricks too often. Maybe it will. Or maybe it already is. He sure has a headache.
It doesn't help that the echoes that plagued him before his update persist even still. Images full of glamour, wrapped around many people he's come to know. He hasn't felt this uneasy from his own mind since the expulsion of Gadreel. Swallowing hard, he turns on anonymity and tries to make sense of it all at last, days later, on the 2nd of November.
The day Mom and Jessica had died. Go figure, right?
[ANONYMOUS TEXT | ENCRYPTED 60%]
Has anyone woken up here and felt like — nothing's really... real?
Like you're going to wake up and find yourself somewhere worst, and that it's all just a cruel trick someone's playing on you?
I've just been having a hard time... accepting, I guess.
And if this is another trick and the person doing it is listening —
Go fuck yourself.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Red Fish / Iskaulit Bar
When: November 2nd (or somewhere abouts, if you need a different day)
Warnings: post might deal with mental illness-related talk, potential darker themes like conversations regarding non-consensual icky hallucinations, memory/mention of torture, etc. It's possible that it'll be a pretty light post and none of this comes up depending on how threads go, but I wanted to put out a blanket warning in case I forget. This is a heavier post from Sam! No happy augment glitches today or alien chicks with pancakes, sorry buddies. :(
[ACTION]
Sometimes augment updates happen in pretty unextraordinary ways. Sam laid down to sleep on the 30th, and woke up the 31st to find that he had a vast array of new memories and scars — but not quite so simple. He remembers being bound by his ankles and wrists to the chair in a sodden, dark basement. He remembers the hallucinations, vivid and painful. He remembers the knife cutting skin, the smell of his own flesh seared by a blowtorch. When he wakes up on the ship, he does so disoriented and pale with shock, sweat drenching his pillow.
It almost all feels like a dream.
Almost.
The image of Toni Bevell feels impossible to scrub from his mind. But this... This place — the fleet... he hasn't seen it in many months. It's as he remembers, but with the augment update, there's a sensation of falseness. Is this even real? How is he supposed to know? Not too long ago, he had wholeheartedly believed that he and Toni were lovers, confidants, not at all strangers, and certainly not one being a torturer. He had put so much faith in that hallucination — and it had felt so vivid — that there was a horrible shame and disgust and emptiness when he realizes he'd been played like a golden fiddle.
Toni had just smiled, proud of her savagery.
And here lies Sam's great dilemma: he doesn't trust any of this.
Sure, his foot is scarred, and he's got freshly pink and shiny marks where he'd been shot, sliced. But there's a strange emptiness he feels when he gets out of bed, showers, and redresses for the day. It's Halloween. Strange. He checks the roster on the ship. There's someone named Carl. He remembers noting their arrival before and making a note to meet with them properly; a kid, right? Right. He puts on a smile and goes to work at the bar aboard the Iskaulit, but everything feels robotic in gesture, like he's just going through the motions. He's a decent actor, but this augment shift is really making him misstep.
Dean's dead, Sam's alone, he's in a basement, she wants information.
Is he even really here?
Would he even remember the basement, if this were just another hallucination? His mind is working in circles, trying to figure it out. What's he told her? What does he not remember? What has she tricked out of him? He has to be careful. He has to keep his mouth shut about anything she'd want to know. Just... go through the motions. She'd said his brain'd melt, if she did the mind tricks too often. Maybe it will. Or maybe it already is. He sure has a headache.
It doesn't help that the echoes that plagued him before his update persist even still. Images full of glamour, wrapped around many people he's come to know. He hasn't felt this uneasy from his own mind since the expulsion of Gadreel. Swallowing hard, he turns on anonymity and tries to make sense of it all at last, days later, on the 2nd of November.
The day Mom and Jessica had died. Go figure, right?
[ANONYMOUS TEXT | ENCRYPTED 60%]
Has anyone woken up here and felt like — nothing's really... real?
Like you're going to wake up and find yourself somewhere worst, and that it's all just a cruel trick someone's playing on you?
I've just been having a hard time... accepting, I guess.
And if this is another trick and the person doing it is listening —
Go fuck yourself.
anonymous text »
anonymous text »
anonymous text »
But secrets can be important. As long as it doesn't eat you alive.
anonymous text »
anonymous text »
I have someone here, someone who proved they're worth every word.
I know it's not easy... Believe me, I do. There are things I've never told anyone because trusting people is hard. But it hurts to be alone with all of it. It makes everything so much more difficult to stomach. I don't know.
It's almost killed me before, keeping things to myself.
Would never want anyone else to feel that low.
anonymous text »
anonymous text »
Take it a step at a time.
I mean, if it really worries you, to burden your friend
I'll offer to reveal myself, and you can talk to me about it, if the alternative is too scary.
anonymous text »
Who are you?
text » private.
At the end of the day, someone else may need a listening ear. Sacrificing his pride and privacy in the wake of his own crisis of reality isn't new to him. He'd rather be potentially useful than drowning in his woes. What can he really do about not trusting the world around him?]
My name's Sam, and I'm in communications on the Red Fish.
[Well, until Nami has him transfer to her ship, to help him out with being depressing and whatnot. He hopes revealing himself isn't a mistake, because it's not the first time he'd be taken advantage of and tricked, but... fuck it. It's not Lucifer... He hopes.]
If you ever need someone to talk to, I listen pretty well. You can even stay anonymous if you want — I can lock the feed. Or something. But, um. Helping others helps me, so I don't mind.
text » private.
[ in effect, it makes this easier. because she knows him only enough to know he is good. but not so much that she adores him the way she adores ahsoka.
she abandons anonymity, too. ]
Ser. It's Sansa. Sansa Stark. Do you truly fear this whole fleet might be nothing more than a cruel trick?
text » private.
[He smiles a bit, behind the screen, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
Something about her did seem sad. Guarded, anyway, and suspicious. He remembers her being unsure of his presence on her ship, when he brought her Katie's thread. In the wake of her honesty, he allows her a part of his own struggle.]
..._
Yes.
I was being tortured for information, and... they had moved on to very realistic tricks of the mind. I'm afraid I'm having a hard time putting my feet back on the ground.
text » private.
text » private.
I have to protect the people I work with, and normal methods didn't work.
I don't plan for this method to work, either.
[He said things, when he was lying in bed with that woman. The bed in his head, ridiculous as it is. His skin is crawling at the thought. But he hadn't given her names, locations, nothing she could use; he had figured it out and broke out of the illusion in time.
That's worth something.]
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
carefully: ] The dead can live, here. And so I find I must also fear them. There is a king named Joffrey whose arrival here would be a terrible thing. Him, or anyone sworn to him.
text » private.
Kings usually have a habit of abusing power, don't they? Don't worry, Sansa, whatever he is, he's not going to have an ounce of power here. The people aboard the fleet are pretty easy to annoy, so I'm sure he'll earn their disdain pretty quickly.
Anyone sworn to him that's more dangerous than the usual?
text » private.
[ kin who has as good as disowned the monster, yes, but sansa knows how complicated family can be. ]
text » private.
I see the problem there, though. Family can be... a complicated issue.
[SAM WOULD CERTAINLY KNOW.]
Is he a threat here, on his own?
text » private.
[ but she's already expressed to sam in this very conversation that she struggles to trust in hopeful things. ]
There is little love lost between him and his nephew, Joffrey. But blood is blood. Kin is kin.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
[ even so, she will not trust him. ]
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.
text » private.