Desperate Measures

It seemed this was where fate wanted him to go. Sam had spoken to several people lately about what it meant to be Ascended, had seen what his abilities could do and had been scared by it. Isla had suggested he come and speak to the Old Gods...it was a terrifying notion, but not one any less terrifying than living as he was for the foreseeable future. He did not know how one approached a God when you weren't there out of a grim obligation to drink. Sam went early in the morning, when the only sounds were the odd noise from the Rathskeller of tidying from the night before. Kneeling before the shrine, he placed a small, beautiful book with blue pages and poems written inside before it with shaking hands. "I k-know that you don-don't like me. But please listen. I don't want to be this. Not anymore. I hate this just as much as you...as you do. If you can, if you know how...make me normal. Please." Samuel The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out; At one stride comes the dark;