Samuel
We can leave life for tomorrow
Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
Sam was indeed ready for a long tale, notebook out and pen poised, eager to take notes for whatever Wessex had to tell him. He'd edit it later, of course, decide if certain parts were truly relevant, but the first part of any project was collecting all the research he could find.Or grieve all that we thought we’d do
He barely remembered Wessex's death at the hands of the Spire Demon, having been decidedly not involved in anything too far from his book stall at the time, but he knew he'd thought about it at the time. Hearing it from Wessex's perspective was another thing entirely and his notes were detailed, paragraphs appearing on the page as he quickly wrote with the scratch of his pen falling into a staccato rhythm.
"Yes, I remember Aedion, Lucas...108...all their deaths." Sam sadly agreed as she spoke, more mumbling to himself than anything else.
Sam too wished the Voice cared more about her image in Sanctuary. "I've been thinking we might be able to...pitch it to her, as it were, as being more about our safety than our reputation. If we are seen more favourably by the people, we run less risk of being hurt, and we will find it easier to draw in new family." It hadn't occurred to him before, but perhaps if he and Wessex were to go together, it would be enough to convince their Goddess.
He tried to stop the rise of jealousy as she described her journey then ascension to Demi-Godhood, reminding himself that they all had a place in The Voice's plan, that his was as important as anyone elses. Once Wessex had finished speaking, he had two pages full of notes and little sketches, diagrams. "Thank you. This um...this is more of a personal question, I suppose. But...how do you feel, knowing you'll live so long? That...the people we know that aren't Ascended will get old and die before we do..?"
Or make each moment new
