collegedropout | IC Contact.

I know where you're sleeping, idiot, you may as well just answer me before I accidentally dump ashes over you when I'm cleaning out the fire pit.

[He's sleeping.]

I know you're awake, you just answered me. Stop avoiding the issue.

[ . . . what if he passed out or something or is dead.]

[Shit.]

[She's just going to casually lean into the fire reading room, voice quiet, but still loud enough to be heard -- concerned.]

Sam? Are you alright?

[She figures asking if he's alive would be kind of rude.]

[Not much of a reply from the heap on the bed, other than an arm danging off the edge of the cot twitching mildly. He's clammy and pale and there's a familiar cat trying to desperately make those limp fingertips scratch at its ears, pacing back and forth against them. Judging by the piles of books and papers, he was up a few hours ago; the ink is dry on a bestiary page, but fresh and dark.

Further investigation will find Riot buried under the other arm. And a fairy. And possibly another cat.

But Sam is not a crazy cat lady.]

[She makes a slight face at the sight of her cat taking up a large amount of space on Sam's cot -- and Adva, too, being aggravating, as usual. But she sighs, tiptoeing forward to adjust the papers and books so they avoid getting destroyed by the cats, frowning in irritation at Sam, who was conscious ten seconds ago.

He's getting worse. There's not really much she can do about that.

Still, with how pale and clammy he is...

Rei huffs softly to herself and leaves. Ten minutes later, she is back -- and when Sam wakes up, there is a pitcher of water with a little note attached.]

YOU STILL AREN'T GETTING OUT OF IT.

MY VISIONS ALWAYS COME TRUE.

[Sam waking up is usually a slow and sad affair, but when he takes note of the pitcher of water and the note he frowns until his forehead is pretty much frowning with him. Let it be known Sam Winchester will never turn down a pitcher of water (there are things about the panic room left unsaid), and after drinking a hefty portion of it he grabs a journal, pokes his head out to see where he is compared to nosy priestesses, and starts a beeline for the outside world.

He's not so bad that he can't go enjoy a little sunlight while he writes, anyway.

...

While avoiding people and their visions.

He does leave her a little note, though.]

first time for everything

[Sam misses her by about ten minutes, when she comes to check on him -- and when she huffs and returns back to her room, she finds the note, and crumples it in irritation.

First time for everything. First time Sam gets away with backtalking her, maybe.

When Sam wanders back to his cot, there is a note attached to his pillow:]

The cat is going to bring you a dead mouse tonight.

[And, true to form --

-- Youma, indeed, drops a dead mouse in the room later that evening.

She is, indeed, never wrong.]

[HOURS LATER.

Ew gross. Gross. Sam has half a mind to just throw the thing out his window, because even if he considers a burial (what the fuck, the illness is getting to him), there's a better method to the madness. He huffs and hobbles over to his PCD, typing away.]

You're not the only one who's confident in their visions.

10 minutes, Riot the Dog will deliver a suspiciously alike mouse to your door.

It's definitely not the same one.

[And sure enough, Riot sits in front of her door with his tail thumping excitedly.

Not that Sam sent him or something.

...

He's going to just go ahead and go read under a tree today.]

[ROUGHLY TEN SECONDS AFTER RIOT DROPS OFF THE DEAD RAT]

GET THIS DISGUSTING DEAD RODENT OFF OF MY BED SAM WINCHESTER OR I'LL FORESEE MY FIST IN YOUR FACE

[LEGITIMATE FIVE SECONDS OF SURPRISED DUMB LAUGHTER MUFFLED THROUGH THE WALLS.]

[ugh the thing is disgusting and torn apart and covered in dog drool and once Rei gingerly picks it up with a cloth and dumps it out of her window, she strips her bed clean and contemplates burning her sheets to get rid of the

dead mouse germs.

in retrospect it's kind of ridiculous that a teenager that has literally died and gotten torn apart and put back together in order to save the world finds a dead mouse disgusting BUT]

It isn't funny.

That's how the Black Plague was spread.

Jerk.

I hope that's not a hint at another vision.

[He's only half joking, how the fuck will he know what Adstring brings.]

No.

A giant dragon is coming soon to destroy half of the city.

No plague yet.

... Okay, the dragon thing sounds kind of like something I'd like to hear about?

You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine.

[His neutral expression wavers into something heavier.

A minute or so later:]

This future is a little more important than mine right about now.

It isn't up to you to discount your own importance.

I got that memo decades ago.

I'm discounting it now.

So if you've already made your decision, what harm will it do in telling me?

If your fate is so sealed, then there's nothing to concern yourself with.

Right?

Why do you want to know enough to keep this going?

Because you might not be born to be the hero, but I am. That means doing whatever I can do to help those that need it, which includes my friends. And if someone dangerous is inside the city, then I need to know about it, to keep people safe.

Devalue your future if you want -- that's your choice and your decision. But I want to know the reason why.

[He frowns.

Well, he glosses over most of the hero stuff, because really... even if she's the hero, he's not really all that comfortable telling her about his life. On the flipside, though... she's right about the danger. Gadreel, as far as Sam's concerned, is a threat.

He's quiet for a moment.]

I'm assuming you know how angel possession works.

[Text]

[Text]

[Text] 1/3

[Offline]

[Offline] 3/4

[Offline]

[Offline]

[Offline]

[Offline]

[Offline]

[Offline]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]

[Text]