Call it what you want

sam So please please please, let me get what I want this time Sam didn't quite recognise what the drawings were, but he could hardly criticise - he had never been artistically gifted and was sure his own attempts at charcoal would be much worse. He politely smiled and nodded at the story, though he hoped it wasn't true; with the LongNight coming up he had had enough thoughts of beasts recently. He accepted the offer to sit. "I don't think you could see anything in the bottom from here. The mists are too--" Before he could even get comfortable, the bridge began to shake and shift, Sam's hands losing purchase almost immediately; he had never been good at balancing and had no muscles to try and grab onto anything to pull himself up. He tumbled down. All he could feel or think was pure terror stabbed into his heart, not having time to come up with actual coherent words as he spun and flipped down towards the ground, snow and mist blocking much of his view of the actual bottom. Smacking to the ground, his limbs shook with the absence of any pain, which was sometimes worse than when he would have been hurt - the unnerving gap between seeing his hands shake and leak clear liquid on the ground but feeling nothing. When he felt able, he lifted his shaking body off of the floor and stumbled about, trying to work out where he was. It was misty down here, and his head felt like it was swimming in treacle; with a start Sam realised he hadn't replenished his fluids in two weeks. He knew if he wanted to get out of this situation he'd have to drink soon, and he didn't think there were any shrines down here. Weakly, he looked about for Remi...or at least Remi's body. The horrible idea of drinking from a corpse came to him, and he silently prayed to no one in particular that it would not come to that. "R-Remi...? Oh, oh fuuuck, Remi? Please? Somebody?" He yelled out, not sure who he was expecting to respond.