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— 1 —
Arrival

( he's been told he's blessed about as many times as he's been told he's going to hell, so it's always been a bit of a mixed message on whether or not some cosmic being actually gives a shit about him. he's always leaned more toward no considering the evidence of his life — and even now he's not exactly convinced this "ancient" is any different. when has god ever looked out for him? never. he doesn't expect better results from any other deity, quite frankly.

he supposes the robes are meant to be humbling. maybe it would be if it didn't piss him off so much, dredging up unwelcome reminders of too many sundays spent in black and white robes and being expected to actually participate in mass. yeah, he spent enough time as an altar boy as a kid, so thanks very much but no fucking thank you. perhaps the only saving grace here is everyone else looks just as depressingly devout as he does.

finding his brother is, naturally, his first order of business, but he doesn't seem to be too panicked about the fact that they've been separated (again). as he makes his way up and down the docks, he'll call out: )

Nathan! ( and when that doesn't immediately yield results: ) Goddammit. Where the hell did you go?

( anyone he passes at the harbor or on the way to the temple — or even once he's made it inside the temple — might be stopped by a 'scuse me followed by: )

You seen a guy about yea high — ( indicated with a hand raised slightly shorter than sam ) — flippy hair, has probably tried to talk your ear off about ancient architecture already?

( eventually he'll make it to the mess hall after securing a significant change of clothing (no way in hell he was gonna spend any more time in that damn robe than he needed to), where he feels comfortable enough making idle chatter with his fellow travelers while he grazes on whatever it is the temple chef has served up. )

Beats prison food, I'll tell you that much.

( but, then again, pretty much anything beats prison food, so it's not exactly a very high bar to clear. )

— 2 —
The Masquerade

( sam wouldn't miss an opportunity to schmooze around a fancy party with beautiful women and free booze, so it is a little disappointing when he finds himself dressed to the nines in a sharp blue pinstripe suit and the party turns out to be a masquerade ball. sure, keep the mystery alive, he gets it — and it's fun for about an hour or so until he desperately needs a drink and realizes he can't seem to take his goddamn mask off. if the lord is testing him, he's gonna have another thing coming to him when this is all over.

it does at least force him to pay more attention, to get back into the crowd and listen to what people are saying, taking note of the few who have managed to remove their masks thus far, it's a secret repeated ad infinitum from half the attending guests. apparently secrets are the theme of the evening, and if he wants a fucking drink anytime soon he'll have to share.

fine, he can share. )

You know, I wrote "Rail Mary" on the bathroom wall at Saint Francis Boy's Home when I was a kid.

( nope. still nothing. goddammit. maybe that one wasn't so much a secret, because everyone knew it was him, they just never managed to prove it. (had he told nathan it was him? he can't remember now.)

but, okay, he can dig deeper, pull out something dirtier than that if they're out here airing their fucking laundry.

not he ever thought this particular bit of his past would have need to come up; it was so long ago it hardly feels relevant to anything going on in his life now, though one could argue it drastically shaped how his and nate's life turned out (especially considering the whole "fleeing the country after committing a burglary and being suspected of foul play in the death of the homeowner" situation that would have posed significantly more problems if sam hadn't had the connections he'd had then). but if he has to share anything, this little secret of his is, well, practically goddamn innocent compared to the invisible elephant in the room that no one needs to know about.

so whether he's still mingling or back at the bar, he'll eventually admit: )

I mean, I, ah ... I used to work for the mob back in the day. ( which is said casually enough, with an easy lift of his shoulders. and, then, just like that, the mask comes off. ) Huh. Whaddya know.

— 3 —
Lost Carcosa

( yeah, sam's done enough sharing for one night, quite frankly, so whatever silent encouragement he feels prickling under his skin he pushes down with the rest of his feelings he chooses to ignore and keeps walking down the length of the beach. if he's looking for anything in particular, he's not going to mention it. (he knows they're a long way from libertalia now, but that hasn't stopped him looking for any sign of avery anyway.)

before the fog starts to roll in, he might catch anyone who happens to be on the beach with him with a wave of his hand and a flash of a smile, then: ) Hey, you don't happen to have a cigarette on you, do you?

( it's not long after that the fog settles, sets of unblinking gold eyes inching nearer and nearer, attached to bodies that look like they crawled out of the wreckage of the titanic. he definitely did not sign up for this shit. )

Okay, not good. ( he's already backing away from the shoreline, scanning the immediate area for an exit strategy, only there's so much goddamn fog he can barely tell which direction he came from. and as far as he can make out, there's nothing useful strewn about on the beach in case of waterlogged zombie emergency, so his options seem pretty fucking limited. ) Jesus Christ. Really wish I had a gun right now.

— 4 —
Wildcard

( feel free to hit me up on plurk ( piehole ) or discord ( miyou#1092 ) for extra plotting or if you'd like to do something that doesn't quite fit in these prompts! i'm down to boogie with just about anything. )