asgardeventide | 011 [Video] | Forwarddated slightly to evening of day 149

[Castiel has just returned from a trip to Utgard, to find... Well, a mess, figuratively speaking. That leaves the question surely everyone else who had been out of the city has:]

What happened here while we were gone?

[They were only away a few days, after all, and it seems those who decided to go were fortunate. That of course casts some suspicion onto the timing of the trip, which was already considered a little shady, but that's a matter for a later time. He had things he was going to say during his next post, whenever it was to be, but it doesn't seem appropriate at the moment.]

The natives I encountered said something of an illness, and--

[He stops, suddenly, looking alarmed for a brief moment as he glances at something, then there's faint confusion and his expression returns to neutral before he continues.]

--and of the dragon from Muspellheim, but I am unclear on any details, or if further assistance is needed at the hospital.

[And if he should know anything before heading there. His expression flickers again, gaze snapping to somewhere just offscreen, but he looks back at the feed and seems about to say something further. Instead, however, he abruptly shuts off the connection.]

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[There is a long silence, before he responds to this. One, because he's recovering from the disastrous plague. But two, because this seems... familiar. The shiftiness, the glancing out of the corner of your eye, the confusion when nothing is there --

He looks pale, tired, with circles underneath his eyes -- a pallor to his cheeks -- but he sounds quiet and concerned when he speaks, completely ignoring the majority of what the angel says to focus on the one thing most people probably won't even notice.]

What are you looking at, Cas?

Nothing.

[His eyes are very firmly on the screen when he responds, and he frowns just slightly. He hasn't even had time to make it back home yet and check everyone.]

Are you alright?

You're lying.

[It's not accusatory, but gentle.]

I'm fine.

I'm tired, Sam. I am imagining things.

[He hadn't slept on either leg of the trip, and he'd had his usual fitful rest while at Utgard, even if in general the adventure had been pretty relaxing. He's still blaming it on tiredness, because it's the only thing that makes sense. He hasn't even considered other options.]

You look unwell.

Imagining what things?

[Sam stares evenly, without answering his friend's statement.]

It's not of import right now, Sam.

[He will be just as stubborn as you, mister.]

What happened here?

If I was looking around at things that weren't there, everyone would be down my throat about it.

[Somewhat testily, though he reclines in his chair slightly, with a dark look.]

A plague hit.

With good reason, which is not applicable to me.

[He says it firmly, like he's trying to convince both of them, and his gaze is so pointedly steady it's not hard to guess he's doing his best not to look at something.]

A plague? How severe? Were there deaths?

I can come there in person or you can be honest. Either way, I'm not dropping it.

[Somewhat irately.]

It's a plague caused by a bunch of Norse gods being pissed off, Cas, what do you think?

Edited 2012-09-26 04:35 (UTC)

I am on my way home, Sam.

[And hey, don't take that tone with him.]

I am attempting to get facts without making assumptions.

[Unlike some people.]

And I'm attempting to make sure you're alright but you're being a dick about it.

[SO THERE.]

Door's open.

You're not needed at the hospital, sweetheart.

[Because she's already there -- and not looking at the bracelet feed, because she's busy pulling on gloves.]

I'm fine.

[Because he can't begin to entertain the notion that he isn't, or what that might mean. He shuts off the feed and about ten minutes later enters the house, looking more than slightly stiff and restrained. Mostly because he's trying really hard to not react to anything, like the black ooze sliding down his jacket sleeve.]

Are you certain? If you are needed, why am I not?

[He's not convinced.]

Because, my love, I'm not letting you damage drain a plague.

[It's said patiently. Like discussing a cookie recipe.]

I wouldn't be capable of draining the plague, just symptoms.

[And anyway...]

You shouldn't be near a plague either. You can't heal yourself.

[Well, fine. Hang up on him. See if Sam cares, as he's too busy sitting in the living room looking miserable and underfed, because he's recovering from the fucking bubonic plague that you skipped out on to go eat food and enjoy the Internet, dickweed.

-- but when Sam sees Castiel, his attitude fades slightly, replaced with a frown as he straightens in his chair, eyes holding concern. Because he knows that expression, how Castiel is holding himself -- because that's how Sam reacted whenever Lucifer tried to kill something right in his ear.]

Cas...

[It's a quiet request -- even if Sam knows it won't go anywhere.]

You owe me fourteen arguments.

[As she gives him something of a look.]

[When he steps into the building and spots Sam, for an instant it's not him. It's just long enough for Castiel's eyes to widen a fraction and his breath to catch before Sam is Sam, as always, looking a little less healthy than usual but definitely still himself.

He looks away, then, because he sees Sam's posture change and knows he's concerned. Drifting closer, he drops the bag he's holding onto the couch, still not looking at Sam as he responds.]

We brought back things for everyone.

[Keep it normal.]

[Something is definitely not right. In fact, something is definitely very wrong -- but Castiel doesn't want to talk, so Sam doesn't call him on it, not yet. Instead, he simply stares at Castiel for a long moment, making it perfectly clear that he isn't going to drop it before he shifts to stand.]

Did you take time to enjoy yourself?

Yes. Utgard is more advanced than Asgard; it has the internet. You would like it there.

[He's speaking to distract himself, because he's beginning to become concerned. If it isn't sleep deprivation it's probably a curse, which is better than actually hallucinating normally, but still incredibly unpleasant. It could last a long time.]

As far as I can tell, it appears that there has been another attack, which makes use of some nature of poison that induces a potentially fatal illness.

There's not much a healer like me could do either, but it appears they are in the middle of having a vaccine developed to counter the illness.

[ ah, the benefits of having read up a little on modern medicinal terms to help at the hospital from time to time... ]

[Sam opens his mouth to deliver some scathing remark for spending time on the Internet while he lay dying in a bed -- but he stops himself before reaching out to place a hand on Castiel's shoulder, squeezing gently.]

You can trust me, you know that, right?

[The touch burns, for a moment, just enough to startle him and he looks back at Sam, everything back to normal again in an instant. Yes, he knows he can trust Sam, but...

No, this is definitely not just exhaustion. This is something more serious, and if he wanted to tell anyone it would be Sam, but he isn't sure he should. Sam has enough problems, and apparently just went through a plague.]

I know.

[But he doesn't offer anything else just yet, quiet several seconds before lifting his chin slightly and speaking again, back to business.]

You should be resting.

Was it an attack by one of the other cities?

[Considering mention of the dragon he assumes it probably is.]

Good. That is something, at least.

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