[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. Adam was guilty as charged as far as the dicks went and could only shrug, but when it came to the Mathair, he didn't feel any particular ownership over that guilt. He'd not been a part of the Ascended then, after all. Still, he felt the awkwardness of the moment as Amalia quickly corrected herself to blame the Goddess and not her followers; hopefully that was where the schism would end, at the odd uncomfortable phrase. "Oh. Okay. Cool." With no idea how it felt to be connected to a God as deeply as she was, Adam had little reference for what exactly Amalia meant, but her assurance was enough for now. As she turned he squeezed her hand back, briefly lost in the radiance of her smiles, even as shy and small as this one was. She'd somehow gotten more beautiful while he'd been gone; maybe it was new confidence awarded by the Gods. So, they were walking. "....Hey..." He asked as they walked down her boardwalk, onto the ground when it was available. "...While we're just kinda wandering...you said something about dreams, before Ronin sex-blasted us over here?" i'd trade my life and health, to make people pay attention. I'd sacrifice myself for the sake of entertainment.