LOREN
As Remi began shifting uncontrollably, Loren gritted his teeth against the sudden weight and the uncomfortable sensation of the alchemist’s seemingly random transformations. Still, even if the other man drew the summoner’s blood, he would continue to heal, to draw out all the poisonous magic they now both struggled against. The Launceleyn was heedless of any danger to himself, even as an uncomfortable pressure built up in his mind and magic spilled out of him at a dangerous rate.
But he wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up. Because he could feel the opposing force wavering, the dark magic throwing up increasingly desperate barriers against the wave, the tsunami of Loren’s magic. Even as pain lanced into him—from his own efforts, from the curse, from something the other man did, the Launceleyn couldn’t say—the summoner dug deeper, found another unplumbed depth of his magic, his soul, his will.
Then Remi turned his gaze to Loren and he saw the alchemist’s eyes were pitch black.
No
The thought shot through his mind, his body, his hands, his spell, directed straight towards those dark orbs. Fuck that. He hadn’t come this far just to fail. And he would banish dark magic wherever it did not belong. It definitely didn’t belong in Remi.
So just as the other man had rejected the reality that Loren had tried to create, to build, so too did Loren reject this reality with every single fiber of his being. This was wrong, and he would make it right. Let there be fucking light for once.
His hands rose from the alchemist’s shoulders, the sky-colored glow of the summoner’s magic having darkened to a royal blue. Placing his hands on the other’s man’s cheeks, regardless of what form they currently took, whether it be bird or beast or man or some nightmarish combination of all three, Loren laid his thumbs under Remi’s dark eyes as the summoner’s blue ones bored into the other man’s gaze. The Launceleyn’s magic exploded out of him along with his voice. ”Remi. Look at me. You can do it. Look. At. Me.” Loren pleaded. He commanded. He ordered. He begged.
He would not give up. Not now, not ever. This promise he would keep. This relationship he would foster. This love he would cherish.
His eyes and heart had been opened today. And these eyes he would make see again.
Enough.
But he wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up. Because he could feel the opposing force wavering, the dark magic throwing up increasingly desperate barriers against the wave, the tsunami of Loren’s magic. Even as pain lanced into him—from his own efforts, from the curse, from something the other man did, the Launceleyn couldn’t say—the summoner dug deeper, found another unplumbed depth of his magic, his soul, his will.
Then Remi turned his gaze to Loren and he saw the alchemist’s eyes were pitch black.
No
The thought shot through his mind, his body, his hands, his spell, directed straight towards those dark orbs. Fuck that. He hadn’t come this far just to fail. And he would banish dark magic wherever it did not belong. It definitely didn’t belong in Remi.
So just as the other man had rejected the reality that Loren had tried to create, to build, so too did Loren reject this reality with every single fiber of his being. This was wrong, and he would make it right. Let there be fucking light for once.
His hands rose from the alchemist’s shoulders, the sky-colored glow of the summoner’s magic having darkened to a royal blue. Placing his hands on the other’s man’s cheeks, regardless of what form they currently took, whether it be bird or beast or man or some nightmarish combination of all three, Loren laid his thumbs under Remi’s dark eyes as the summoner’s blue ones bored into the other man’s gaze. The Launceleyn’s magic exploded out of him along with his voice. ”Remi. Look at me. You can do it. Look. At. Me.” Loren pleaded. He commanded. He ordered. He begged.
He would not give up. Not now, not ever. This promise he would keep. This relationship he would foster. This love he would cherish.
His eyes and heart had been opened today. And these eyes he would make see again.
Enough.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
