hold me closer, necromancer

Sam was heading into his last week on the island and he wasn't looking forward to it. He found that while a part of him wanted to go home because he did miss Seattle, another part didn't want to go anywhere.

There were reasons for both sets of thoughts and they were giving Sam a headache. He figured he should maybe start packing but, well, he didn't have a lot to begin with and what he did have could be shoved in suitcases and bags a few hours before he actually left.

So, he wasn't doing anything. Or, well, he was doing something but it wasn't packing. He'd turned his record player on and was spinning something jazzy currently. It was giving him some motivation to go through his clothes and, at least, so he could start sorting things that he wanted to wash before he left and things he knew he wouldn't wear before he left.

It was the start of packing but he was being slow about it. Slow and slackerish.

So, that had happened.

When Sam actually came back to himself, he was standing in someone else's house (or no one's house, he couldn't remember), leaning against a wall with some very, very strange memories rattling around in his head.

He blinked a few times and even pinched himself to make sure it wasn't a dream. Nope, this was him and that had all happened. Feeling a little hollow and a lot confused, Sam eventually did get out of the house and made his way back to his room.

He was tired but he wasn't and he was unsure and he was almost a little hesitant to go in his room. But, Natalie wasn't there right now so he took that time to change, at least.

And then he sat down on the bed and tried to get himself together.

[Door closed and post for that one girl who is his roommate]

After his uncomfortable conversation with Natalie earlier, Sam had retreated to his room and he had showered. It'd felt good, something he'd definitely needed and it did help some tension dissolve. Some, not all.

He hadn't stayed in the room long before he'd left again to get some food. He'd completely bypassed the island's offerings and gone to the mainland to find something new and vegetarian. He'd come back with a few bags and was now eating a salad at his desk. It was late so he had a set of headphones on while he played a few records to give him something to do besides think.

Thinking was just...bad. And he was already brooding so he didn't need to add to it.

[Door closed, post open of course]

With Natalie gone for the last little while, Sam had gotten bored and ended up back in Seattle for a few days to see his friends. Of course, seeing friends meant seeing Brid which meant seeing Brannoc which meant he'd gotten roped into attending a Council meeting and volunteering (or maybe he was glared at until he relented) to raise someone with possible information about some the series of attacks that had been going on for awhile.

It had been a supposedly simple job that had gone wrong from the outset. From Sam cutting his hand a little too deep (blame Brid being distracting with some of her commentary on the whole situation and pacing around like a caged animal) to an innocent stumbling upon them in the graveyard trying to raise the witness (and screaming bloody murder) to the actual dead person refusing to give any information until Sam actually had to overpower his will and force him to do so.

And even then, the information was scarce. By then, Sam's hand was throbbing and smeared in blood but he'd been a little irritated with the whole situation and had just gone home. He'd slept a little and after that, he'd just decided to head back to the island.

That's where he was now, dozing restlessly with his hand messily wrapped in somewhat dirty bandages (look, he didn't take excellent care of himself) and a few bottles of painkillers on the nightstand. There were ghosts above him, swooping in and making keening whining noises every so often but Sam ignored them.

They'd be there when he woke up.

[Door closed, post open, and of course all stuff from Seattle and the ghosts NFB.]