Dead men walking

Loren hadn’t really had many close friends, and he’d been estranged from his family (not that there were many of them left). So it’s not like he was expecting all that many visitors. But he’d still been hoping that, rather than having to go out and find each and every person he owed an apology and an explanation, they’d come to him. He’d feel safer and more secure that way, on his own turf, in his own home. But there was at least one person who he felt the need to go see in person. Especially after that person failed to make an appearance at the Manor. Loren was trying not to read too much into that absence, but it was hard. It was weird to think that, after the huge fight he’d had with his family over it, that he’d finally come to call the Launcleyn Manor home. Fate had never really been on his side: it turned out that all his protests and anger had been for naught, and his family had been decimated while he’d been gone, off in his own little world of self-pity and self-hate. But loss certainly had a way of clarifying things. And while many people had lost much in Caido, Loren felt he was certainly a contender for the most pitiful figure in the Hollowed Grounds. All that was to say the former librarian had come home, far too late. A lot of that was his own fault, though. Now that he was back, he was resolved to make up for lost time, in whatever way he could. It was hard, though, given how unstable he felt. But just because something was hard didn't mean it wasn't worth doing. And he'd had more than enough experience with difficult choices. The hardest thing, he'd discovered, was meeting those he’d left behind: Loren had no idea what to tell them, or how they’d react. While they had, presumably, changed in the past year, and experienced things the Launceleyn could only begin to imagine, the former librarian was much the same. Oh, his frame was gaunt and his skin was pale, and he had a wild and sad look in his eyes these days. But he hadn’t grown. If anything, he’d actually shrunk into a smaller, sadder shell of an already small and sad man. It wasn’t like his soul was fertile ground. But Loren had always had to fight for everything in his life. Unlike his more talented, more popular, more loved kin, unlike his friends who seemed to know who they were in a way the Launceleyn had never experienced, unlike those who’d had things handed to them on a silver platter, he’d carved out what he could from his sad existence. While it might have been a pitiful and unimpressive life, it had taught him something: when push came to shove, he’d fight, and he’d win, and he’d survive. He’d bounced back from worse tragedies than this. He just needed to keep reminding himself of that. That didn’t make his stomach less queasy as he made his through the streets of the settlement to the Monster Hunter’s Guild. Of everyone Loren had left behind, Ronin was one of the ones the Launceleyn was most worried about seeing. The two of them had been through a lot together; they’d been friends, incredibly briefly lovers, estranged, and then back to friendship, all in a dizzying whirl. But that all felt like a long time ago, and the former librarian had never been truly secure in their relationship. So now, it felt like a rocky, uncertain thing. Regardless of how he felt, though—and despite the fact that Ronin had married Remi, Loren’s other former lover, making things even more complicated—when the former captain and current King had failed to show up at Loren’s doorstep, it had stung. However, instead of wallowing, like he’d done for so long, the Launceleyn had decided to do something about it. Loren was done removing himself from the world: it hadn’t stopped him from hurting. Quite the opposite in fact. Now he was going to throw himself into life, as if by participating in everything, he could finally figure out who he was and what he stood for. Because right now, there was an emptiness inside that yearned to be filled. That wasn’t the whole truth, since he was also a mess of scattered thoughts and conflicting emotions. Honestly, the only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to get this visit out of the way, and sooner, rather than later. It would almost be as bad as loving Remi, who Loren had loved and lost. The Launceleyn wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn't sure he ever would be. As a peace offering—because Loren didn’t think Ronin would accept the Launceleyn’s presence without one—the former librarian clutched a bottle of wine. While the Manor was slightly derelict and in disrepair, its wine cellars were well stocked. That wasn’t too surprising, given that Edy had been living there. The woman loved her alcohol. It hurt to think of her death, though, so Loren thought of Ronin instead. That hurt, in a different, more immediate way. The two of them didn’t have the best track record with alcoholic beverages, considering that one time they’d gotten drunk, fucked, Loren had one of his numerous mental breakdowns as a result of said fucking, and their friendship had almost irrevocably broken because of it all. But it was a symbol for them nonetheless. And even if they had a bad habit of bringing each other bottles of booze, at least it was actually a habit. Perhaps it would show Ronin that, at least in some small way, Loren hadn’t changed, that he could still be relied on in some small, but important fashion. He clung to that hope like he was drowning and only it was keeping him afloat. Finally, he arrived at the Monster Hunter’s Guild. It didn’t take long to get directions to Ronin’s room; it was daunting, going to the other man’s living quarters, and Loren was doing his best not to hyperventilate. He paused outside the door, trying to relax. His hands were white knuckled from clutching the wine. All he was doing at this point was putting off the inevitable. So, though his limbs felt like lead and dread coiled in his gut, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. “Ronin? It’s…” he hesitated, voice completely uncertain, then swallowed. “I-it’s Loren.” There really wasn’t much more to say. LOREN Not quite an open book