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[The few days it's taken to adjust have been, well - Sam is not going to use the word 'Hell' because he's actually been, and this is crappy but it doesn't come close. Still, anyone who hasn't seen him yet might be a little alarmed at what's being broadcast: six feet and four inches of sickly sasquatch, valiantly trying to address the network, appallingly pale, sallow-faced and bloodshot-sunken-eyed.]

Hey. Uh - Sam. I'm new. I guess this is a, uh, a thing that, that people do. Is introduce themselves. And I get that - we're all looking for a way out.

[Auspicious beginnings. Who knows if anyone's even getting this? Nevertheless, he continues.]

Okay. So. No promises, but there's something I can try. Kinda like a ward, or a spell. [Magic exists, surprise. The few people he's already talked to have expressed a kind of varied interest in this sort of thing, so caution be damned.] Anyone wants to help, I'll need a couple things.

First is - salt. Table salt, any kind will do. Second? Matches, a lighter, anything that can make sparks, even for a few seconds. And then I'll need something to write with, marker, pen, spray paint - I don't care. Anything along those lines.

[He looks at something off-screen, mouth briefly twisting in what might best be categorized as 'disgust'.]

I have food to trade for it. Heard that's kind of a limited resource these days. Food and, uh. [He squints at something.] Neosporin. If anyone, y'know, needs that.

[Yeah, he doesn't get it either. He jerks off frame for a moment, face buried in his elbow. It's not enough to fully stifle the ragged, fierce coughs that leave his shoulders shuddering. Finally, signs of life trickle back through the feed, albeit muffled and with their subject mostly lurched off camera as he mutters in his more characteristic deadpan, wearily sardonic, 'so-done-with-this-shit' tone.]

Also. If anyone happens to have some aspirin on them, that'd be great.

[There's the rattling of trembling, uncoordinated fingertips trying to navigate the tablet, and the feed snaps off.]

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[ There are several things here that concern her, the biggest ones being his apparent case of bronchitis and the fact he's looking for things to cast a spell. Natasha's dealt with magic before. She hasn't liked it but she's dealt with it. The fact magic is a thing, here, too, isn't the surprising part, it's what he says about it. So she focuses on that, first. ] What do we need to be warded from?

And if you knock on a door you shouldn't? Do you have a back-up plan?

Would this do?

[She holds up a government-issue-looking black ballpoint pen.]

Normally I'd have a lighter, but I seem to have forgotten mine.

[And her cigarettes. She's not thrilled about this.]

Edited (html) 2015-05-11 22:17 (UTC)

You are still unwell.

[Alec looks concerned but he figures that mentioning Sam's illness will probably mean the video will be turned off before he can offer any help.]

I have a pen and paper. There might be salt in the dining room that someone hasn't picked up.

[Pausing, he debates secrecy and the need to contact the outside world. The Clave wouldn't be happy if he started showing off to Mundanes, but being stuck in a creepy hotel made secrecy seem unimportant.]

I might be able to help with the fire but I don't know how reliable it'll be.

How much salt?

[ Clearly the most important question, never mind that she's still iffy on this whole "magic" thing some others in the hotel have mentioned. Equally important, though, is his frighteningly ill appearance -- this, at least, she thinks they're moderately more prepared for. ]

I don't know if anyone has aspirin, but we do have an infirmary. You could try there, maybe?

I know someone with a pencil but what does the ward do exactly?

Take care of the Neosporin. First aid kits are sparse around here. I've got some Ibuprofen. I can bring it over. You don't look so good.

Good to meet you, Sam.

[The conditions suck, but that's a given.]

I have a pen. This thing that you're trying, this spell, what exactly will it do?

Edited 2015-05-12 17:02 (UTC)

[See, she didn't know that you were someone of the magical persuasion, Sam. When she activates her tablet, she looks very interested.]

I did not know you knew magic, Sam... There are not many here that seem to be from places where it is a true thing, but there are a few of us... at least that have admitted it to me. [Or that she'd read about over the tablet interactions.]

I... would like to offer assistance if I may? My kind are magical constructs... we have the ability to pull magic from around us and channel it through our bodies either into ourselves, into another, or into the spell itself... a sort of focus stone, if you prefer...

I would be more than willing to help you work your spell if you would like for me to...?

[This wasn't something that gryphons liked to put out there in the open on the chance that the wrong person learned and tried to take advantage of it, but (WHAT ARE PRIVACY?!) Zhaneel didn't know how to change privacy or even that it was a thing.]

[So, another magic connoisseur. Where are you, Neal, she almost misses you and your magic logic.]

So far, all our demons come from within. Not to be poetic or anything.

[A pause.] What does neosporin do?

Gosh look at all these replies. You're popular, Sammy.

Let me know when you get all that stuff together.

Fitz. [ Accompanied by a small smile, one part awkward and two parts rusty. ] There's aspirin in the hotel. Or there was, um— two months ago. Two people, I think; they might still have some to share.

[ That's followed by a pause as he considers leaving it there. It's probably rude to pry, but if the guy's already talking about casting spells on the network— ] Do you know magic?

[He doesn't look well. He doesn't look well at all.]

Video. Really probably not the best choice.

[She's frowning a bit, clearly thinking he should've avoided showing his face when he looks so...well, like that. But there is a little genuine concern underneath it all.]

Why salt?

Thea. Nice to meet you, Sam. [ A pause, and she tilts her head, looking a touch concerned. ] This is probably pointing out the obvious, but you look like you're dying. We have some doctors here that might be able to help with that.

[ But that's obviously not the point of his broadcast. The point of it is apparently crazy voodoo witchcraft magic or something. She can deal with that. Probably. It's pretty much nothing compared to what she has dealt with. ]

So, this ward. Or spell. What's it going to do?

[At least he gets the basics. The one thing he doesn't seem to understand is that, as limited as the resources are, what seems to be even more limited is magical ability and chance of doing anything useful. Back home, Emma is the savior. Magic is just a part of her. . . . But here?]

I've tried magic before. It didn't work.

[Have a man who looks like he's in his early fifties, shoulder length brown hair going to gray. Yet the brown eyes which are framed by it have a feel of someone who's seen far more than fifty years. He's curious at the mention of a spell and so he's decided to offer what he has, if only to get a conversation started.]

I have some metallic markers, and I'm capable of creating fire.

[He'll lean back now from where he's propped the tablet, holding one hand between him and it. With no warning, his hand has a nice small blaze dancing over his palm. He allows it to remain for several seconds before snuffing it out by closing his hand over it.]

Though I'm afraid I've yet to manage to use it to set anything aflame. It seems the moment it leaves my hand it tends to die out. What sort of spell are you thinking of casting? I'm also capable of a few protection spells myself.

I have a few markers— that's something you need for the spell you're trying too?

[ He knows runes, but wards and spells, those are things that warlocks play around with, not Shadowhunters, and especially not Mundanes. ]

What does this ward of yours do, exactly?

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