so why'd you have to rain on my parade?

I'm shaking my head. I'm locking the gates.

Samantha had a list. She kept it in the back pocket of her jeans. A list of every single person that she needed to find back in Sacrosanct. Dorian, Nadya, Vhalla, Troy. Her list had been completely derailed for a few days by the sheer exhaustion she felt. It had been far more emotional than she had expected to come back to Sacrosanct. But it was far better that so many of the people she loved had been so willing to understand why she had left. Even if she had been justified in her feelings, Samantha knew that she had left for the wrong reasons. That seemed to be entirely relevant now, as she stood in front of an extremely shell shocked Troy. Samantha had known, too an extent, that he felt... something for her. At the time, she had been so consumed with her own grief that the idea of it was impossible to fully grasp, much less act upon them. And perhaps she had felt something too. A spark of something, though she hadn't been able to do anything with it.

As she stood, she was well aware of the emotions that swirled around the man. Anger. Confusion. Relief. Shock. A myriad of emotions that flashed from back to forth. She wanted to embrace him, to hug him out of the pure joy of seeing someone that you'd once cared about. Even if she hadn't been able to act upon whatever feelings might have been there, she had cared for him. He'd been a member of her court, after all. That position alone came with some level of love. Part of her wanted to touch him, if only to use her power and gain some sort of insight on what he was thinking. Touch would be enough to let her see his thoughts - the emotions around him strong enough that they'd be easily accessible to her. Was he... happy to see her? Angry with her? Would he stand still long enough to hear her reasoning?

Troy had been such a huge help to her while she had been lost in her grief. He'd been the one to let her cry on his shoulder. He'd tried to convince her that the events of that regrettable evening were hardly her fault. Though, admittedly, she'd never been fully convinced of that. He'd even gotten her off her couch and out of the house, a feat that even Dorian had been unable to accomplish. She had thought of him when she'd left. But like Dorian, the fear of telling someone where she was going was plagued with the fear that someone would try to keep her in Sacrosanct. If she had said that she wanted to leave, would Troy have followed her? Would he have convinced her to stay in Sacrosanct? Would he have understood that vicious need to find the girls that created her if only to reassure herself that she was truly safe? It was hard to say now, but she... she had really needed to go alone at the time. It had hurt (unbearably so) to leave the ones she loved behind.

As much as she wanted to break the silence, she was relieved when it was he that did so. Even if those words were echoed in doubt over her own words. "Troy..." Samantha said quietly, reaching up to tuck a lock of her red hair behind her ear. "Of course it's nice to see you. I..." Somehow, saying that she was going to find him seemed like a cop out, especially hearing the pained tone of his voice. "I've only been back in Sacrosanct for a few days, but I was going to contact you. I swear." She stepped forward so she was within arms reach of him, though she still didn't touch him, not yet. "I know." She said sadly. Alive or dead. Truly, when she'd left, she wasn't sure exactly if she wanted to even be alive. She wasn't sure if her mission was a suicide mission or not at the time. "I'm sorry. I... I was afraid that if I told anyone where I was going or what I wanted to do, they'd stop me. And I wasn't sure what would happen. It was... it was easier to just leave, even if it hurt like hell."

Samantha gestured to the couches she'd just vacated. "Will you stay? Talk to me?"

this is why we can't have nice things

Samantha Cassidy