LOREN
Were he in a better mood, Loren might not have hesitated at all. He might have lunged straight for savior moments and heroic complexities. But it was there, pressing against his skull (leave him behind an echo, a drifting void). His day gone completely south, however, left him prickly and bristling, and it was tempting to simply let Jigano remain behind. It would buy Loren more time. It would leave the Sage to his own devices. It would be cruel, but wasn’t Loren that way? Wasn’t that how he’d been raised – to be malicious, to be deadly, to be lethal, just like the rest of the Launcelyns?
Or was he trying, striving, to make a name for himself, instead of the one anointed and christened like devil’s handiwork?
He sighed, eyes catching and watching the harpies for a moment, then lunged for Jigano’s small form in the hedges. Within a moment, he’d created a pocketknife, and worked along the snaking, serpentine lines, attempting to cut the bird free. If the harpies, blessed, summoned creatures (thank the gods he still had a modicum of skill), could keep the wild beast entertained, he might have time to ensure the Sage’s safety too.
Or was he trying, striving, to make a name for himself, instead of the one anointed and christened like devil’s handiwork?
He sighed, eyes catching and watching the harpies for a moment, then lunged for Jigano’s small form in the hedges. Within a moment, he’d created a pocketknife, and worked along the snaking, serpentine lines, attempting to cut the bird free. If the harpies, blessed, summoned creatures (thank the gods he still had a modicum of skill), could keep the wild beast entertained, he might have time to ensure the Sage’s safety too.
