voicemail.

[suiting]

[If there is no active post or you need to contact Inias, leave him a message.

He has no idea how to set up a private custom message, so you're just gonna have to deal.]

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[suiting]

Sleep does wonders for healing.

[And, just like that, Inias opens his wings and flies them to the Wastelands, though he at least does Sam the justice of pulling him up onto his feet. Angel strength is the best.]

Perhaps we should focus on that.

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[collegedropout]

[He fights the urge to groan at that, man.]

Feels like all I've been doing is sleeping.

... I'm usually a five-hours-a-night kind of guy. Occasional seven.

Now it's just — kind of hibernating bear syndrome.

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[suiting]

Bears hibernate in the winter for a reason.

[It's said mildly, and Inias looks around with a quiet frown, contemplative.]

You are sleeping because you are weak. You need to conserve energy.

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[collegedropout]

[Siiiiiiiiighweeps.]

So I hear.

But I can't stay off my feet too long. Too much stuff to do back home. And here, I guess.

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[suiting]

What is there to do here? Castiel seems to have it under control.

[Inias stoops slightly to run his fingers through the snow, melting it instantly to get to the dirt underneath.]

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[collegedropout]

Well, let me rephrase: I need to be off my feet in case things go to hell in a handbasket between Crowley, Naomi, and Abaddon.

[c r i e s]

... Unless the Animus beats them to it.

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[suiting]

With good fortune, all three of them will wipe each other out and save us the difficulty of doing it ourselves.

[Fucking demons and fucking Naomi. But Inias falls quiet when his fingers touch soil and he focuses enough to have shoots of green sprout up from the earth.]

-- ah, good, I was correct.

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[collegedropout]

[Sam is 100% totally invested in everything you're doin' right now, Inias.

Nerdy motherfucker that he is.

PLANTS PLANTS PLAAAANTS]

... There's one thing I wouldn't mind doing.

[that angel hoodoo you do]

This is the kinda' thing I envied. During that screwy God event.

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[suiting]

Creation, lately, has not been the prime focus of our kind.

[Inias gently curls his fingers around the plants before plucking them up, examining them curiously before turning to Sam with a faint smile.]

It is a good gift to have.

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[collegedropout]

... Yeah.

[Sam can't help but be a little jealous. All of his 'gifts' are courtesy of hellfire and evil. He tries not to dwell on it, but the God event brings up some pretty sad thoughts. He refocuses on the plants instead.]

What's this?

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[suiting]

Foeniculum vulgare is the human Latin classification.

[Inias offers a thin smile.]

I believe you call it 'fennel'.

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[collegedropout]

Fennel. [He holds a hand out, calmly eager to examine it for himself.] Alright, then. Teach me about fennel. Might as well know what I can, if I'm going to be a sub-par farmer here.

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[suiting]

In one cup of raw fennel, you obtain a large amount of your daily required vitamin dose. Vitamin C, 17.4%. Fiber, 10.8%. Potassium, 10.2%. Manganese, 8.5%. Folate, 5.8%. Molybdenum, 5.7%. Phosphorus, 4.3%. Calcium, 4.2%. Magnesium, 3.6%. Iron, 3.5%. Copper, 3%. Vitamin B, 32.8%.

[Pause.]

It also assists with coughing.

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[collegedropout]

Wow. Might need to mark those ones down. [Gosh, Inias, TMI about plants and all. Still, this is good. Last thing he needs is to keep choking and hacking up lungs in people's presences.] I'd been using honey for the sore throats. And, uh — ginger roots for nausea.