"I long for your salvation; I put my hope in your word.
My eyes grow weary looking for what you have promised; I ask, 'When will you comfort me?'
Though I have become like a wineskin dried by smoke, I do not forget your statutes.
How many days must your servant wait?
When will you execute judgment on my persecutors?
The arrogant have dug pits for me; they violate your instruction.
All your commands are true; people persecute me with lies—help me!
They almost ended my life on earth, but I did not abandon your precepts.
Give me life in accordance with your faithful love, and I will obey the decree you have spoken." -Psalm119:82-89
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[Erebus City Arcade]
Wilson: "What on God's Earth are IceEyes?
Is that what you call Symb-eye-otes."
MamMon DæMon: "How quaint."
The old Norse witch, unentertained by the new title for the aliens that attach themselves to humans.
