[Thread] But before I'll let that happen
Characters: Sam Winchester (OU), Vada (OU)
Where: Vri-Tria
When: During the ball.
Summary: Two of those not going in for fancy dress have a gathering of their own.
Warnings: None.
While the apartment was not precisely either messy or spartan, neither was it entirely homey. In Sam's case, it was one small rebellion against the sense of permanency the city imposed. If he went out of his way to make the living space comfortable, it would mean accepting, on some level, that he was bound to stay there for a long enough time to make it worthwhile. Accepting, even, that his own life and responsibilities were things he had to give up, set aside until this alien war, or whatever it pretended to be, was over.
And so, his greatest contribution to the room aside from a press coffee brewer, more necessity of life than luxury, was books. A lot of them, which had been hurriedly tidied into stacks, notes swept up and set aside, so that they did not spread over the entire place like a strange, creeping colony. The scent of brewing coffee filled the air, something approximating manners mingling with the assumption that most people near his own age who seemed to come from a similar time period would likely be fond of caffeine. Or addicted to it.
Where: Vri-Tria
When: During the ball.
Summary: Two of those not going in for fancy dress have a gathering of their own.
Warnings: None.
While the apartment was not precisely either messy or spartan, neither was it entirely homey. In Sam's case, it was one small rebellion against the sense of permanency the city imposed. If he went out of his way to make the living space comfortable, it would mean accepting, on some level, that he was bound to stay there for a long enough time to make it worthwhile. Accepting, even, that his own life and responsibilities were things he had to give up, set aside until this alien war, or whatever it pretended to be, was over.
And so, his greatest contribution to the room aside from a press coffee brewer, more necessity of life than luxury, was books. A lot of them, which had been hurriedly tidied into stacks, notes swept up and set aside, so that they did not spread over the entire place like a strange, creeping colony. The scent of brewing coffee filled the air, something approximating manners mingling with the assumption that most people near his own age who seemed to come from a similar time period would likely be fond of caffeine. Or addicted to it.