Love mends even the broken parts
When the god departed, taking whatever had animated the snow creature with it, Loren let out the breath he’d been holding, though it did nothing to calm his pounding heart. Even though he wasn’t quite sure which higher power that had been, he knew how close he’d come to death or some worse fate. And while he wasn’t sure exactly why it had shown up to stop him from taking the amulet, he was pretty sure it had been called by something. Or someone.
Glancing up, he saw all the onlookers. Saw the way they stared at him. Saw how little they thought of him. Saw how they couldn’t seem to see that he had good intentions, or maybe saw that his good intentions were never enough.
Saw that they didn’t trust him, didn’t want him there, would never give him the benefit of the doubt in anything.
Melita, whom had criticized him for lacking control and discipline, and yet seemed to have lost both in that moment. Well, at least she had reason to hate him, even if her comments made her a hypocrite. The white horse, who was presumably an Attuned and could’ve used words as easily as force. And yet, had attacked his creature without giving the Launceleyn any chance to respond. The rest of them, animal and human, all looking at him as if he was something to be pitied or avoided. They stood there, not even talking to him, not acknowledging him, so fully convinced that they were always right and he was always wrong, that he was bad and they were oh so fucking good and nice and pure.
Well Loren had no interest in explaining himself, of making excuses or apologizing, not when he was pretty sure they’d made up their minds. Not to them, at least. He’d already done enough of that, to far more powerful beings, to the one that had intervened. Maybe if the god hadn’t shown up, maybe if they’d given him an opportunity to correct his behavior before lashing out at him it would’ve been a different story. As it stood, though, he felt a fury and darkness unfurl within that overtook his latest efforts to be good and right and happy. So be it, then. They’d made an enemy of him today, though he wasn’t going to act against them, and would still do what he could to help them. But they wouldn’t get to see him unless they needed him. Nor would he express concern over their petty squabbles. They’d lost that part of him.
As always, it was him alone against the world. Or at least that’s certainly what it felt like. He wondered if this had been what it had felt like for Zariah, a circle of judgmental eyes, hostile people, making up their minds about him without giving him a chance to explain, without leaving him a choice. Luckily for them, unlike his cousin, he had no desire to retaliate. No desire to rage against them. No desire to do anything but go home and be left alone. He still had a choice here.
If it was him against the world, he wouldn’t fight. He’d let the world win. He didn’t want any part of it, not after everything he’d been through since his return. Everyone kept telling him that he should just follow his heart, and that as long as he tried, that would be enough. That there was forgiveness for him, so long as he forgave himself and tried to make amends. Guess that was a fucking lie. He was so tired of trying that sometimes he thought it would have been better for him to have stayed away.
Well at least one thing was clear: it would be best for him to leave, now. So, without saying a word, he turned and stalked off into the snow and the cold. They knew where to find him, if they wanted to. He doubted they would. Let them judge.
He didn’t fucking care anymore.
Glancing up, he saw all the onlookers. Saw the way they stared at him. Saw how little they thought of him. Saw how they couldn’t seem to see that he had good intentions, or maybe saw that his good intentions were never enough.
Saw that they didn’t trust him, didn’t want him there, would never give him the benefit of the doubt in anything.
Melita, whom had criticized him for lacking control and discipline, and yet seemed to have lost both in that moment. Well, at least she had reason to hate him, even if her comments made her a hypocrite. The white horse, who was presumably an Attuned and could’ve used words as easily as force. And yet, had attacked his creature without giving the Launceleyn any chance to respond. The rest of them, animal and human, all looking at him as if he was something to be pitied or avoided. They stood there, not even talking to him, not acknowledging him, so fully convinced that they were always right and he was always wrong, that he was bad and they were oh so fucking good and nice and pure.
Well Loren had no interest in explaining himself, of making excuses or apologizing, not when he was pretty sure they’d made up their minds. Not to them, at least. He’d already done enough of that, to far more powerful beings, to the one that had intervened. Maybe if the god hadn’t shown up, maybe if they’d given him an opportunity to correct his behavior before lashing out at him it would’ve been a different story. As it stood, though, he felt a fury and darkness unfurl within that overtook his latest efforts to be good and right and happy. So be it, then. They’d made an enemy of him today, though he wasn’t going to act against them, and would still do what he could to help them. But they wouldn’t get to see him unless they needed him. Nor would he express concern over their petty squabbles. They’d lost that part of him.
As always, it was him alone against the world. Or at least that’s certainly what it felt like. He wondered if this had been what it had felt like for Zariah, a circle of judgmental eyes, hostile people, making up their minds about him without giving him a chance to explain, without leaving him a choice. Luckily for them, unlike his cousin, he had no desire to retaliate. No desire to rage against them. No desire to do anything but go home and be left alone. He still had a choice here.
If it was him against the world, he wouldn’t fight. He’d let the world win. He didn’t want any part of it, not after everything he’d been through since his return. Everyone kept telling him that he should just follow his heart, and that as long as he tried, that would be enough. That there was forgiveness for him, so long as he forgave himself and tried to make amends. Guess that was a fucking lie. He was so tired of trying that sometimes he thought it would have been better for him to have stayed away.
Well at least one thing was clear: it would be best for him to leave, now. So, without saying a word, he turned and stalked off into the snow and the cold. They knew where to find him, if they wanted to. He doubted they would. Let them judge.
He didn’t fucking care anymore.
loren
