amun
Amun had dragged himself to the shrine for The Voice hidden deep in the Underground. In his left hand, he held a walking stick, and in his pocket he held the glasses he brought before. He’d limped his way through the darkness that was not darkness to him, navigating the maze of tunnels that were now quite familiar to him.
Finally he arrived at the platform with the shrine. Kneeling before the statue of the woman who was herself praying, he cradled his mangled hand, the one that had been entirely crushed by a block of ice at Fiat Lux. His hip was healing slowly, but the hand was apparently beyond even his Ascended body’s ability to repair.
”I would like to thank The Voice for protecting Samuel, Wessex, and I, and I’m sorry we could not save the Temple or your altar there.” His voice was tired, a far cry from the confident air he normally wore. ”I know I have no right to ask this, but I was hoping you could heal me, as you healed your other children.” Waiting, he stared at the statue, eyes devoid of their normal sparkle.
Finally he arrived at the platform with the shrine. Kneeling before the statue of the woman who was herself praying, he cradled his mangled hand, the one that had been entirely crushed by a block of ice at Fiat Lux. His hip was healing slowly, but the hand was apparently beyond even his Ascended body’s ability to repair.
”I would like to thank The Voice for protecting Samuel, Wessex, and I, and I’m sorry we could not save the Temple or your altar there.” His voice was tired, a far cry from the confident air he normally wore. ”I know I have no right to ask this, but I was hoping you could heal me, as you healed your other children.” Waiting, he stared at the statue, eyes devoid of their normal sparkle.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me
