Big, strong, grumpy, scruffy, secretly-sensitive, tattooed, scarred, next-door-neighbor with a jaded pastSamsonis the definition ofman.
And, sparing that singular fault, he is the definition ofperfection.
Trust me.
I know.
I’m practically an authority on theVale of GemsNPCs.
I haveseenthe hyper-realistic fan art.
I have participated in the what-if Reddit forums.
I have read the Y/N fanfiction until my eyes have burned and I’ve had to update my glasses prescription.
Therefore, according to professional assessment, Samson is WonderGlass’s cruelest joke.
Because tall, dark, beautiful,perfectSamson is…unromanceable.
Just because he’s theteeniest tiniestspeck outside the age range of the rest of the game’s dating pool, women like myself who don’t mind an age gap must suffer. Not to mention that sinceIgrow up and stationary NPCs donot, I’ve been closing the gap since I started playing when I was nineteen.
Now that I’m twenty-four, I can more than appreciate a thirty-eight-year-old dreamboat.
Unfortunately, all my emails concerning these valid points went unanswered.
“Great granite,” Lazul murmurs, perhaps a minute after I’ve stopped breathing. “Are you all right?”
All right?
Am Iall right?
Of course. Never ever better in all my life.
I am merely and simply—andrationally—begging whoever is in control of dreams to let me have Samson time before I wake up. Nothing too crazy. Just let me see him in this hyper-realistic first-person format long enough to get me through the coming workweek.
Please.
“Citrus?” Lazul touches my shoulder.
I startle at the depth of the sensation and blurt, “Huh? What? That’s just my astigmatism acting up. I’m fine.” I adjust my stupidly cute glasses on what I hope is a freckled button nose, and repeat, “I’m fine. Obviously. As you were saying?Someonecan help me get started?”
My lashes flutter, andbless my brainfor giving me access to Samson sooner than the early game quests normally allow. Going through the farming tutorial with Lazul—a man with a large, lavish unharmed mansion—is always painful. It’s like the dev wanted to drive home the fact the lord of this land found a random traveler near the entrance to the Ridge and put them to work on a disease-ridden farm instead of offering sanctuary in his own home while he figured out who the heck they were and why the heck they were here.
Ultimately, screw Lazul and every forced interaction with him.
Give me Samson!
Taken aback with concern that doesn’t stretch far enough to offer me better housing arrangements, Lazul murmurs, “Samson could. He lives on the farm north of here, beyond that…impassable glen. I do not think he’d be willing. He’s somewhat…reclusive. I’ve tried to get him to tend this land before to no avail.” Lazul half-pouts, half-scowls. “I don’t get the impression he likes me much.”
Probably because you dump poor, helpless, defenseless girls off in rodent-infested houses, you monster.
Sighing, Lazul shrugs, lifting a hand to accent his disinterest. “At any rate, you’re burning daylight if you have any hope of making this place livable by tonight.” He turns heartlessly on his heel. “I have business to tend to, but I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning. Good luck!”
With that, he trots off, whistling.
Mm. Delightful.
I could almost respect his opportunist attitude if I weren’t staring at a devastated and overgrown land standing between me and the love of my life.
