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)
driftfleet2017-09-22 06:33 pm
collegedropout) wrote in driftfleet2017-09-22 06:33 pm
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?
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?
no subject
peggy waits, stilled, while he's got his hand on her. but when he slips asleep she nudges his touch aside and finishes the work of removing his second boot. both get tucked gently under the bed -- where they should be. and once upon a time he rubbed comfort and relief back into her body with just a bit of attention paid to the bottoms of her feet.
she recreates that moment now from the other side. it's silly, she thinks. and so terribly outside of her usual behaviour. peggy doesn't give in to hugs all that easy, let alone foot rubs. but it's an easy price to pay to watch his breath even out and sleep take him over.
and, in the end, she lets him for for an hour and three quarters. all's fair in love and nursing. ]