no emotion that's worth having

SAMUEL i am the ocean, crawling madly at your moon. and with one wanton whoop — Sam flinched as Zeph yelled, no good response to it. He had many the same questions himself, could hardly find good answers for them when he'd had weeks to think, never mind when they were demanded out of him in an instant. All he could do was stare, watch Zeph lean against a bookshelf and hold his own arms, glancing down to the now-ignored tea cups by the stove. "...You're right about Wessex, but...I think as long as the Voice tells her not to, she won't hurt me. I hope..." Sam sighed; at least it was good news that Ronin and Amalia weren't in Torchline; perhaps that meant he could go back some day, see all the things he'd missed. Even still, he couldn't see a way to leave before Flowerbirth. If he was gone for Longnight, he was pretty sure the Ascended would be unable to fight the monsters, and while that was what he wanted, he couldn't imagine the hell that would come his way in repayment for that. "It's more complicated than that. I know...I know you're trying to help, but if I just run from this now, it's going to come back later worse and bigger." It was hard to explain to anyone not acquainted with the Voice just how permanent, wonderful and painful the bond to her and the family could be. "You can't protect me from the Voice, if shes mad. Wessex. Anyone else, if they come in enough numbers. I don't want you to feel like it's your responsibility." — i melt into a sycophantic soup, & all that's left to do, is giggle, fawn, and swoon.