there's light at the edge of the darkness
For a moment there, Loren had been entirely convinced that Frey would ignore the Abandoned’s call. It wouldn’t be that surprising: the gods didn’t exactly love his kind and they’d only answered him once before.
However, maybe the Launceleyn needed to have a little more faith. Because there was Frey, in all their divine glory. Last time they’d looked a little like Remi, but today that resemblance had faded, to be replaced by someone more generically and less overwhelmingly attractive. What that meant, he couldn't say, but it was a small blessing. As with last time, the deity was beautiful, but unlike before the summoner, while filled with lust, wasn’t overtaken with waves of desire, and could even think almost fully conscious thoughts.
That didn’t stop him from holding his breath as Frey spoke, then dipped a finger in the milk and let a single drop fall to the ground.
Which was instantly transformed into a wave of white. Not snow, but something else entirely, some liquid that caressed Loren’s suddenly naked body. He floated in a sort of languid bliss. While Frey might be disappointed in the offering the Abandoned brought, the Launceleyn was perfectly content to float here, in this incredible sea the deity had called into being. However, Frey was speaking again, and the summoner sighed, the sound traveling through his whole body. ”What do you mean, it’s a gift from Mort?” All the Launceleyn knew was that Mort was the god of death, and it seemed that love was a far cry from the end of life. Heartbreak, the end of love, seemed like it should be in Mort's domain, not love itself.
The nickname was an odd one, both because snowflake wasn’t exactly a term of endearment and because Loren wasn’t exactly used to anyone calling him pet names. ”Well, that’s a shitty deal, then.” Perhaps it was unwise to unleash the anger he’d been carrying around with him for so long on a divine being, but there was no one else who would ever listen to him.
Besides, if a god of love couldn’t understand, no one would.
However, maybe the Launceleyn needed to have a little more faith. Because there was Frey, in all their divine glory. Last time they’d looked a little like Remi, but today that resemblance had faded, to be replaced by someone more generically and less overwhelmingly attractive. What that meant, he couldn't say, but it was a small blessing. As with last time, the deity was beautiful, but unlike before the summoner, while filled with lust, wasn’t overtaken with waves of desire, and could even think almost fully conscious thoughts.
That didn’t stop him from holding his breath as Frey spoke, then dipped a finger in the milk and let a single drop fall to the ground.
Which was instantly transformed into a wave of white. Not snow, but something else entirely, some liquid that caressed Loren’s suddenly naked body. He floated in a sort of languid bliss. While Frey might be disappointed in the offering the Abandoned brought, the Launceleyn was perfectly content to float here, in this incredible sea the deity had called into being. However, Frey was speaking again, and the summoner sighed, the sound traveling through his whole body. ”What do you mean, it’s a gift from Mort?” All the Launceleyn knew was that Mort was the god of death, and it seemed that love was a far cry from the end of life. Heartbreak, the end of love, seemed like it should be in Mort's domain, not love itself.
The nickname was an odd one, both because snowflake wasn’t exactly a term of endearment and because Loren wasn’t exactly used to anyone calling him pet names. ”Well, that’s a shitty deal, then.” Perhaps it was unwise to unleash the anger he’d been carrying around with him for so long on a divine being, but there was no one else who would ever listen to him.
Besides, if a god of love couldn’t understand, no one would.
loren
