Hands Held Across the Rift

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — He had left a message at the Artist's Sanctuary (a rather odd building, he thought, when he peeked in - so chaotic) for Rexanna, asking for her to meet him at the Safehouse. As much as he was anxious about getting to know new people, she had been kind to him after the fight at the Mathair and he needed to speak with her. Sam had had an idea. One that he thought could help all the Ascended. Waiting for her, he prayed at the altar, stared at the image of The Voice painted on the wall. While it was not a shrine in the true sense, he liked to think he could still feel her presence when he knelt before it, the peace and motherly love that she had pressed gently into his head. — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.