Another Kind of Holy

SAMUEL Remi had gone and Sam was alone. All that he had for company was the ominous shrine in the back of the temple and the sound of odd movements outside. Neither of these things helped calm his nerves. For something to do, to distract, he tensed and relaxed his hands over and over, watching the bloom of wet fluid on the bandages. It hurt, but pain was something that wasn't sorrow, so it was fresh. He heard a noise in the back of the temple that wasn't the hum from downstairs or indicative of a monster, so he looked up: There was a beautiful man with a ginger head of hair not unlike his own but much longer. Headed towards the infirmary it seemed like, and no surprise: He was clearly not in a good way. But Sam knew he would find nothing there. "W-Wait! Sam yelled, standing up and wobbling on his still stiff legs. "T...The healer. She d-died. Outside. ...Are...are you b-badly hurt?" I'm starting to heal and find some faith I'm starting to feel what's out of place Don't need you to save me, I can't wait To fall, to fail and start again