[SEASONAL EVENT] When you try your best but you don't succeed

REMI ABRUZZO When these weary days, when these days are done We'll be in the sun He hadn't heard Sam behind him—the ascended always seemed to move with such a strange sort of silence—he did certainly hear him collapse. Spinning around, the shock of coppery hair erased any confusion Remi might have had as to who it was who had fallen so unceremoniously onto the flagstone. Though his heart was wary and heavy, a lifetime of generosity and altruism moved the alchemist's feet immediately to Sam's side. "Samuel?" He whispered, fingers ghosting over the man's shoulders for a moment, the remembrance of whispered promises and easily offered strains of love still rife and bright in his ears. But there was the note.  The note that had said you are not worth remembering, and for a moment, just the fraction of a second, Remi stalled. He paused. He wondered what it might be like to let Sam be someone else's responsibility, as Sam had in effect done to him. But no, that wasn't Remi. Even hardened and broken—shattered—as he was, he would never. "Sam—" He whispered, hands curling around his shoulders and lower back. It was the closest he'd been to the bookmaker in this memory stream anyways, and Remi felt the weight and feel of Sam's body against him acutely. It was nearly too much, and like some sort of restrained animal the alchemist felt his body wanting to shy away from it. His fingers trembled against the fabric of Sam's clothing, and only in quick glances did he let his eyes roam over his body to search for injuries. Any longer than that and he'd see Sam as he had been in the dream, naked and sweet and lovely. Isla! He great out mentally, grunting slightly as his muscles tensed and he lifted Sam off of the streets. Isla I need you! Grasping at the door with his magic to thrust it open, the alchemist staggered inside with Sam in his arms. Luckily Aoife was still asleep, and with a brunt sweep of his magic he placed Sam on one of the great tables, laying him there as gently as he possible could while he waited for Isla to return from wherever it was she'd been grazing. When these weary days, when these days are through I'll be working my way back to you