driftfleet | Open/Mingle

Entry tags:

Open/Mingle - Roll Call.

Who: Sam, and you, and anyone; tis a mingle of sorts.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: SS Bloodsport, if you wanna find him.
When: After the planet is struck - Sept 22nd.

Note: Feel free to tag each other and inform everyone of whatever you need to, post-planetary explosion! I'll tag here and there, but consider it more of a mingle for people to touch bases about casualities and making sure people know they're okay (or if someone's injured.)

[Sam sits, triumphant in their mission but also defeated in spirit. Because yeah, they got the ship off the planet, and there's a whole civilization of people who get out of there... but he also is already too aware there is at least one fatality on their end already. Looma's last broadcast had been expected, especially after she'd sent him a warning beacon as the meteor pressed down into the planet's atmosphere, speeding, ready to smash the thing to pieces without effort.

Looma at least faced her death as one would expect, for her people. He imagines they would be proud.

Still, he sounds deflated at the thought, as he speaks a more leveled and straightforward response:]

... We've lost Captain Looma, of the SS Bishop. Umm... for what it's worth, she did it on her terms. I'm sorry.

[He's carried out the task of divvying up the blood from the blood drive, in case anyone from any particular ship needs it; there've been some injuries from shrapnel and citizen unrest, he's pretty sure. That's about all he can do, now, other than check in on the gardens... make sure Fie's work is continued alongside her, because it's important to keep those plants alive and thriving.

He slumps a little in weariness, sighing at his desk where he sits on the SS Bloodsport.]

... Role call?

Who's, um. Who's missing?

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Five and a half.

[Merlan's gonna haggle like she's in a market.]

If you want pillows, I can totally arrange that.

[Theiving pillows to throw at Sam seems like an adequate use of her time.]

Five an a quarter, with some pillows thrown in.

Deal.

...as soon as I can move without feeling like I haven't any bones.

[Some pillows? Hah. All the pillows. Prepare yourself, Winchester.

There will be pillows.

Lots of pillows.]

Sure thing. Don't turn to jelly by the time I see you again, okay?

I'll do my best to be in the neighborhood of not-jelly. [Somehow she just about managed to get in the wink, too.]

And you - don't be burnt toast.

Sounds unpleasant, so I'll definitely do that.

[And if you'll excuse him, he's gonna go faceplant his bed and try to sleep..]

[Don't even ask where she got all the pillows. Just don't. Merlan, with her floating pillows, didn't sneak attack Sam because he'd had enough surprise attacks in his life. But there she was, six hours later, tapping at his door.

Besides the pillows, she also had something that was pretty close to hot chocolate with marshmallows in hand. All of these things were good and warm and comfortable and they were the best of de-stressors.]

[When he opens his door, he's not really sure what he expects. Not a meteor anymore, at least. But instead he stares blankly at her and the floating pillows. Really, the hot chocolate is completely missed in the wake of the floating pillows.]

Oh. You're being haunted. By, uh, pillows.

[#sick joke sam]

It's an invasion of the poofy kind.

Oh.

Hmm.

[She wrinkles her nose a little and there's something flannel and plaid attempting to get through.]

What is it, my ghostly friend? [A plaid arm flops at her wrist and the collar flaps around.] Ooh. That's right. No plaid shirt, no entry. No? No...hm. Well, if you insist.

[The two cups she's holding go in opposite directions to each side, while the pillows seem to form clusters as the plaid shirt settles itself around her. She winks as she takes the cups back.]

I have the shirt, two cups of hot cocoa and a moderately sized army of pillows. This is the good kind of haunting, Sam Winchester.

[Oh jeez, Merlan, that's way corny.]

Where the heck did you even find that many pillows around here?

[Extremely corny. She grins.]

Duplication spell, I put a time duration on it so they'll hang around for a maximum of a few days but I can always tweak it. It's a shame it doesn't work on food. That was the first thing I tried. Studying with a mage has been amazing.

... I'll bet. I've learned a hell of a lot thanks to this multiple universes thing, too.

[Gardening is the big one, but shhhh. He pushes a bit at a pillow floating nearby.]

The food thing sure would be helpful right about now. But I guess keeping it formed and being able to eat it would be a little much...

Khadgar and I have been experimenting with combining his magic with the magic from our universe. Mixed results but it did save our lives on that last teleport. I think, as long as we have ingredients we can probably create something edible. Like everything, magic is what you put into it.

[The pillow boops his fingers lightly. Another one bonks his nose.]

Even the angelic kind of magic. [She scrunches her nose at him, knowing very well angels are a raw spot.] I don't know if I'll ever be able to teleport, though. Growing things, however? I'm pretty sure we can do a hydroponics bay or something if we can find space.

[Merlan looks well pleased by the thought and the idea lights her face with promise. A pillow nudges him gently.]

Gonna invite a girl in or what, Sam Winchester?

Ahh -- sure, no, yeah, come in.

[He motions very ungracefully toward his room. Let it be known, for all of Sam's cunning with sharp objects and his ability to fixate on spellwork and research, he's still awkward as heck when it comes to a girl wandering into his general proximity. He's not always soulless Sam, okay, we can't always be Mr. Cool.

The room is kind of plain, really. There's a hell of a lot of papers on a desk, and a small shelf of books -- and a plant, it seems, Sam has been tending to on a dresser. Otherwise, it's very much about as homely as an inexpensive motel room. Ha.]

... If you can't do any of that, at least you can make a decent pillow fort?

Edited 2017-10-22 10:32 (UTC)

[Merlan sympathises, she really does. Just look at her budding relationship with Khadgar. It's a disaster of denial, stolen glances, blushing, and fabulous nerdisim. The cocoa is still hot and resting on his desk (not on the papers, amazingly enough).]

I can make you the best structurally sound pillow fort you have ever laid your eyes on. Right now, in fact.

[She takes a good look around, hums a little, drops her pillow load in a corner and gets to work. The books make good ballast, the sheets a great roof, and as long as the bed geta pushed with a side to the wall, she can line it properly with a double wall of pillows. The corners are stable, anchored with comfy, poofy pillows.

Merlan steps back, squints at her handiwork, thinks for a moment, and glances between Sam and the newly made fort.]

You'll fit.

[She nudges him gently, grinning as she picks up the cocoa.]

[He hunkers down a little bit to look inside, still skeptical.]

I don't know, I might grow five times bigger. Or worse. You know I've been a literal giant before?

[... Adstringendum had a lot of crazy shit.]

[She worries her bottom lip trying not to laugh because Jesus Christ the universe and its sense of humour. Her own is bad enough.]

I-- [Winchester, what is your life? She gives him a look.] You know, at first glance, that's hilarious. But in the end, I guess it just sounds kinda lonely if no one got themselves all ginormous with you.

[Merlan's getting in with the cocoa (both of them) before she says something really stupid. She peers at him, the second cup of cocoa floating around as she thinks.]

Even giants need giant friends. [Her brow furrows.] Or small friends with megaphones.

[He snickers.]

Nami liked to use giant Sam for free trips across the village, anyway.

[He outstretches a hand to try and catch that cocoa; she can probably see the plethora of hunter's scars on his arm, pale, as well as some particularly nasty thick ones that stretch across his forearm; on his palm, the worst of the scars stands out, a risen old scar that canvases the whole flat of his hand.]

I guess I wasn't that lonely, that way.

I'm glad she did.

[She catches his hand with a furrowed brow (and very cold fingers) to inspect the scarring. There should be images, like the time she had seen so much of his life but there's nothing. Merlan relaxes a little more with a slight sigh of relief.

But the scars tell so many stories. So much danger. More than she's ever faced.]

Oh, Sam...

[Her voice is soft as she very lightly follows the other scars with her forefinger. She stops for a moment to gently tug at his arm. He can have that cocoa if he comes in.]

[He smiles a little, shaking his head before he crawls in. Why not, right?]

Don't. It's okay, really. It's all better. I mean, work in progress, but better.

[He's not gonna lie; she saw some of his memories, after all.]

... Thanks to people like Nami. Friends and crewmates and -- well, a lot of people.

As much as I hate to admit it, getting kidnapped into new universes really did a lot for me.

[He smirks, teasing but kind.]

Every blanket fort counts.

Edited 2017-11-01 07:23 (UTC)

I wasn't going to-- [Merlan huffs softly.] I've never really socialised with other Hunters. Not really. I never went to the retreats with my family, never could deal with the sheer noise or emotion. But you hear things, though.

Every scar is a story and a history. That's what my auntie would say.

[She hands him the cocoa when he's comfortable.]

Mind, the mug's spelt to keep heat.

[There's a quiet freedom to being able to gently use magic like this. It's...unburdening, unshackling.]

Better is as perfect a word as you can get. Kidnap aside, getting out of our universe is kinda a good thing, especially for you. I'm glad Nami's here with you, for you. That sort of friendship, where you've been through all sorts of things with another person, that's the sort that means the most.

They do, honestly, count. [She leans a fraction into Sam but is careful to keep just enough comfortable distance.] The blanket forts.

[He grins, nudging her with an elbow, but not particularly minding the lack of space.]

... Metaphorical and literal?

Because if you're not careful, you'll get assigned 'fort maker' for everyone.

I probably wouldn't mind that. [Her expression is one of wry amusement.] It's a good use of my talents, I suppose. Engineering, throwing myself at people until I stick, maker of forts, yes...it does fit right in there.

Not a terrible assignment.

[Her smile is bright, though her laugh might be soft. She goes with the nudge and just grins.]

Might even be the best of assignments yet.

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Open/Mingle - Roll Call.

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[Action: 6hrs Later]

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