The bard looked at his friend soberly, blue eyes streaked with black and hands shaking where they rested on the table before him. To say that Sam's answer was insufficient would be something of an understatement, and his frown deepened. His jaw clenched at hearing that he 'couldn't understand' how the Voice had helped Sam, and his eyes narrowed. "You owe her nothing," he said softly. "Maybe you have forgotten, but I have not. I remember how much pain being an Ascended caused you. You said your family made you an Ascended because they wanted you to be stronger, not because it was something that you wanted. When we met, being an Ascended, being denied warmth and taste and touch, hurt you, and had done so for years."
He hissed as he looked away, fingers digging into the top of the table but remaining clawless for the moment. "She did not give your senses back to you, Sam. Remi and I talked about how to help you, and it was Remi who begged her to allow that patch that lets you retain some of what you had lost. Remi who made that patch, not her. Remi who loved you."
He looked back to the bookmaker and there was a fierceness in his eyes, too controlled to be feral but intense and sharp. "It was not Remi's choice to forget you, Sam, or to forget the love you shared. But it was the Voice's choice to agree to take your memories of being loved from you. To prey upon your first heartbreak and turn it to her advantage. Tell me that feeling as though she is the only one who loves you, who wants you, who understands you doesn't serve her purpose precisely by isolating you from your mortal friends and family and making you dependent on her and her alone, so that you will forgive her everything? So that you will hurt the people who care about you at her behest?" He shook his head slowly. "Trust goes both ways, Sam. If she doesn't trust you enough to tell you why she would have hurt and killed the people you cared for, and used you as the tool to do it, why should you trust her?"
He hissed as he looked away, fingers digging into the top of the table but remaining clawless for the moment. "She did not give your senses back to you, Sam. Remi and I talked about how to help you, and it was Remi who begged her to allow that patch that lets you retain some of what you had lost. Remi who made that patch, not her. Remi who loved you."
He looked back to the bookmaker and there was a fierceness in his eyes, too controlled to be feral but intense and sharp. "It was not Remi's choice to forget you, Sam, or to forget the love you shared. But it was the Voice's choice to agree to take your memories of being loved from you. To prey upon your first heartbreak and turn it to her advantage. Tell me that feeling as though she is the only one who loves you, who wants you, who understands you doesn't serve her purpose precisely by isolating you from your mortal friends and family and making you dependent on her and her alone, so that you will forgive her everything? So that you will hurt the people who care about you at her behest?" He shook his head slowly. "Trust goes both ways, Sam. If she doesn't trust you enough to tell you why she would have hurt and killed the people you cared for, and used you as the tool to do it, why should you trust her?"
