They say blood makes you related but
loyalty makes you family
Deepfrost was finally upon them. The snow had fallen and the luxere had followed. The season they’d all been dreading had stolen upon them in the quiet of the night, and they had awoken to a sleeping world of white.
But sleeping was better than dead: the threats that were upon them were myriad and varied, and Loren knew he could only do so much to combat them. Still, he was one of the few who was relatively unaffected by the recent turmoil. He was not blighted, no one he was close to (at least, not anymore) was either, and the summoner had missed his cousin’s reign of terror. While obviously Loren didn’t want those who’d once cared for him and that he, at least, still cared about to suffer, it did give him distance and energy that others did not have. There was so much to be done, and not nearly enough people left to do it.
And some of those tasks required a specific person. Weirdly enough, Loren hit more of those criteria than he cared to admit. Most of those related to LongNight rather than the blight—not that it would stop him from helping with the blight, which he already was—but that didn’t make them any less important or pressing. Indeed, too many people were ill or dealing with sick loved ones to have much time for anything other than that. And, apparently, too many of them had darkness in their souls.
Which was why Loren was standing here, at night, with a pack full of hay and apples, gazing upon a herd of some of the most wondrous creatures he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. That was saying a lot, coming from someone who’d seen dragons and unicorns and phoenixes and three-headed dogs. But the luxere were something else, something purer. Though they resembled deer, the soft glow of their antlers belied their true natures. They were almost light incarnate, and he felt wholly inadequate beside them.
That didn’t stop him from putting his bag on the ground and pulling an apple and a handful of hay from inside. He held those in each hand, and eyed the herd, wondering if that would be enough. A few glanced at him curiously, but none were brave enough to venture over just yet. So the Launceleyn reviewed what he knew about the luxere. They liked light magic, so the Launceleyn ran through his list of summons for the most colorful and exciting. He didn’t know how they’d react to another magical creature, so he settled for mundane ones instead.
Two peacocks appeared on either side of him, tails fanned out in a brilliant display that stood out even more brightly against the white of the snow, even at night. That earned him a few more antlered heads turning his way, but still none of the herd came to him. Which meant that Loren had to pull out his last trick, the one he’d read about, the one that he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to resort to.
But it didn’t seem that he had a choice. Loren opened his mouth and sang.
”In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed…” The Launceleyn’s voice, a passable baritone, albeit completely untrained, rang out into the chilly evening. He knew he would look entirely ridiculous, food in hand, flanked by birds, mouth agape and music pouring from it. He certainly felt like an idiot. Still, it was all worth it when almost as one, the luxere turned, their eyes bright and deep and finally curious enough to pick their way over to him, leaving delightful little paw prints in the snow. Loren smiled then, though not too much, and kept singing as warm and slightly wet (but in a pleasant way) mouths munched on the treats he brought. It wasn’t long before his initial offering was accepted, and he knelt down to go pick up more, his song continuing all the while.
Jiao
But sleeping was better than dead: the threats that were upon them were myriad and varied, and Loren knew he could only do so much to combat them. Still, he was one of the few who was relatively unaffected by the recent turmoil. He was not blighted, no one he was close to (at least, not anymore) was either, and the summoner had missed his cousin’s reign of terror. While obviously Loren didn’t want those who’d once cared for him and that he, at least, still cared about to suffer, it did give him distance and energy that others did not have. There was so much to be done, and not nearly enough people left to do it.
And some of those tasks required a specific person. Weirdly enough, Loren hit more of those criteria than he cared to admit. Most of those related to LongNight rather than the blight—not that it would stop him from helping with the blight, which he already was—but that didn’t make them any less important or pressing. Indeed, too many people were ill or dealing with sick loved ones to have much time for anything other than that. And, apparently, too many of them had darkness in their souls.
Which was why Loren was standing here, at night, with a pack full of hay and apples, gazing upon a herd of some of the most wondrous creatures he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. That was saying a lot, coming from someone who’d seen dragons and unicorns and phoenixes and three-headed dogs. But the luxere were something else, something purer. Though they resembled deer, the soft glow of their antlers belied their true natures. They were almost light incarnate, and he felt wholly inadequate beside them.
That didn’t stop him from putting his bag on the ground and pulling an apple and a handful of hay from inside. He held those in each hand, and eyed the herd, wondering if that would be enough. A few glanced at him curiously, but none were brave enough to venture over just yet. So the Launceleyn reviewed what he knew about the luxere. They liked light magic, so the Launceleyn ran through his list of summons for the most colorful and exciting. He didn’t know how they’d react to another magical creature, so he settled for mundane ones instead.
Two peacocks appeared on either side of him, tails fanned out in a brilliant display that stood out even more brightly against the white of the snow, even at night. That earned him a few more antlered heads turning his way, but still none of the herd came to him. Which meant that Loren had to pull out his last trick, the one he’d read about, the one that he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to resort to.
But it didn’t seem that he had a choice. Loren opened his mouth and sang.
”In the quiet misty morning, when the moon has gone to bed…” The Launceleyn’s voice, a passable baritone, albeit completely untrained, rang out into the chilly evening. He knew he would look entirely ridiculous, food in hand, flanked by birds, mouth agape and music pouring from it. He certainly felt like an idiot. Still, it was all worth it when almost as one, the luxere turned, their eyes bright and deep and finally curious enough to pick their way over to him, leaving delightful little paw prints in the snow. Loren smiled then, though not too much, and kept singing as warm and slightly wet (but in a pleasant way) mouths munched on the treats he brought. It wasn’t long before his initial offering was accepted, and he knelt down to go pick up more, his song continuing all the while.
LOREN
