[split] [se] the ones who sing in the dead of night

ADAM it's not a cry for help, it's just a cry for connection. The harsh whip of her words made Adam flinch as if he'd been struck and he stayed perfectly still after that in a way only the Ascended could, not breathing, not doing anything, just listening to what she said and trying to come up with any kind of answer to any of it. It didn't sound like the woman he'd known before he'd gone; she'd been a devout follower of the Old Gods, yes, but she'd had empathy, wanted to make things work, disliked the harsh zealots that took over the faith. "...I guess I've just worked out you're not Ama, either, then." He said quietly, finally picking up his head. "She'd stop talking about all this meaningless shit and see what matters is that we're here together, but I guess while I was gone that girl left. Those fucking Gods won't give a damn if you're not useful to them anymore, Ama. The second you dare to say anything they don't like, they'll be gone, and..." Gods, what was the point? Adam had never convinced anyone away from their beliefs with his words, not really, and the wound she'd just inflicted on his heart was so heavy he couldn't even try to pretend he'd try make another move ever again. Shoulders slumping, he shook his head. The Gods took everything away, and it seemed they'd taken away Amalia now, before they'd even had a chance to see what they could be together. Quietly, defeated, he asked: "...Can y'at least take me somewhere I can walk home from? I know I'm a disgusting fucking machine or whatever, but I'd still rather not get lost in a swamp." i'd trade my life and health, to make people pay attention. I'd sacrifice myself for the sake of entertainment.