Sam
I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam
And no one in his right mind would make my home his home
Siiiiiigh. Sam stared flatly, hands on his hips, as the things he'd taken care to stack nicely fell down onto the ground with loud clatters and bangs. Looking around to see if anyone had noticed (privately hoping, a little, that Amun might come to help, though then he saw the door fall and gave up on that notion) and seeing they hadn't, he began to slowly go around and pick them all up, looking them over for dings or damage and setting them down on a larger, more sturdy table.
Finally, when everything was set back right and he'd ascertained that most of it wasn't damaged, Sam stretched and leaned against the table, looking over to Amun and the doors. "Are you managing over there?"
--
Sam picks up and sorts out the objects and asks Amun if hes doing okay.
Finally, when everything was set back right and he'd ascertained that most of it wasn't damaged, Sam stretched and leaned against the table, looking over to Amun and the doors. "Are you managing over there?"
--
Sam picks up and sorts out the objects and asks Amun if hes doing okay.
When I try to open up to you I get completely lost
Houses swallowed by the earth, windows thick with frost
