Ever since the incident by the Bone Bridge with Remi, Sam had been thinking about his condition even more than he usually did. He had said with such conviction there that he had no chance of being cured, never having thought it possible...but he had never truly investigated it. Ascended was such a terrible word to him that he had tried to avoid it as best as possible, had tried to forget all about it. Books had not been for learning more about it - they had been for escaping.
But it had dawned on him that he had never explored the notion of a cure. The more he thought of it, the more he wanted to believe in it. The chance to become again, to have blood in his veins and feeling in his skin, to not be a pallid corpse reanimated...it was a fantasy he went back to regularly.
The only person he could think of who had a chance of being able to help him in the endeavour was Isla. True, she wasn't from here, but as a physician he supposed she might know something about what in his body made the fluid that caused him to be Ascended. After a few days of stewing on it, he headed to the infirmary.
He had never been here before, being surrounded by the trappings of bad health (medicines, bandages, figures on beds) felt strange next to his immortality. He half expected to be told to leave, to stop flaunting his gift around with such ungratefulness.
Uncomfortable, he stood in the middle of the room and looked about. "Isla...? Are you here?"
