Deliver Us

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — The Voice's disappointment was worse than any punishment could have been and Sam curled inwards in shame, hands balled into fists (or as good as he could, with his wounded fingers) at his chest. "I'm sorry. I-I don't mean to. But the Blight was so hard for all of us and people don't like us or you anymore and they say horrible things...it makes me confused. I do trust you. I just...can't stop the fears, sometimes." He had not meant to speak of the Blight to The Voice today, but the words had simply come out. After all, the whole event had lead to his insecurities about The Voice. Sighing a little with relief as he was rejuvenated with her electricity, Sam looked up to his Goddess, hoping to find an understanding there. — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.