[ Sam is past the point of thinking that he's dreaming, on drugs, or is under some kind of witchy-demon-y-spirit-y trance. The aforementioned worst-case scenarios are, unfortunately, things that he's come to expect as the norm. It's a part of his day-and-night job. It's his life.
Waking up in space, being chucked onto another spaceship, and being told to find food, water, and shelter for a troop of fellow travelers he's never seen in his life is something else all together. He keeps hoping he'll have a chance to search out his brother, but that chance hasn't come yet.
It definitely doesn't come when an ion storm (???) renders their ship useless for what is promised to be some form of hell he's never experienced. There's no communication between the ship and base.
Sam volunteers to do a little exploring with a smaller breakaway team because sitting around has never been his forte. He nods to any other suicidal volunteers in his group, hoists a bag over his shoulder, and takes a breath. ]
Well. Food and water. We'll need to start with that stuff, right? [ He wishes he had his guns, not that they'll be of much use here. ] Think we should split up?
iii.
Holy crap! Is that --
[ Sam doubles backwards, patting himself down through sheer instinct alone, expecting to find a gun or a dagger on his person and only finding the small paring knife he'd taken with him on this regrettable journey. ]
Okay - you don't wanna hurt anyone. Just - stay where you are.
[ He knows the words are useless, probably more likely to provoke the beast than actually keep him calm, but Sam's looking for something to kill it with. That's the thing, that instinct in him. Kill first, ask questions later. He'd been taught that ever since he was a kid. Sometimes he'll fight it, give monsters a chance to plead for peace, but most of the time ... well, Dean's right. His dad is right. Most monsters won't give you a second to breathe before they go for the jugular.
The beast is pretty familiar though. And it's definitely not going to stick around to chat. Sam takes a swipe at it with his knife but it's not having any of that.
It's probably time to run, right? ]
wildcard.
[ i have no idea what i'm doing so hit me up if you have an idea c: ]
sam winchester | supernatural
[ Sam is past the point of thinking that he's dreaming, on drugs, or is under some kind of witchy-demon-y-spirit-y trance. The aforementioned worst-case scenarios are, unfortunately, things that he's come to expect as the norm. It's a part of his day-and-night job. It's his life.
Waking up in space, being chucked onto another spaceship, and being told to find food, water, and shelter for a troop of fellow travelers he's never seen in his life is something else all together. He keeps hoping he'll have a chance to search out his brother, but that chance hasn't come yet.
It definitely doesn't come when an ion storm (???) renders their ship useless for what is promised to be some form of hell he's never experienced. There's no communication between the ship and base.
Sam volunteers to do a little exploring with a smaller breakaway team because sitting around has never been his forte. He nods to any other suicidal volunteers in his group, hoists a bag over his shoulder, and takes a breath. ]
Well. Food and water. We'll need to start with that stuff, right? [ He wishes he had his guns, not that they'll be of much use here. ] Think we should split up?
iii.
Holy crap! Is that --
[ Sam doubles backwards, patting himself down through sheer instinct alone, expecting to find a gun or a dagger on his person and only finding the small paring knife he'd taken with him on this regrettable journey. ]
Okay - you don't wanna hurt anyone. Just - stay where you are.
[ He knows the words are useless, probably more likely to provoke the beast than actually keep him calm, but Sam's looking for something to kill it with. That's the thing, that instinct in him. Kill first, ask questions later. He'd been taught that ever since he was a kid. Sometimes he'll fight it, give monsters a chance to plead for peace, but most of the time ... well, Dean's right. His dad is right. Most monsters won't give you a second to breathe before they go for the jugular.
The beast is pretty familiar though. And it's definitely not going to stick around to chat. Sam takes a swipe at it with his knife but it's not having any of that.
It's probably time to run, right? ]
wildcard.
[ i have no idea what i'm doing so hit me up if you have an idea c: ]