Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
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Loren waved a hand grandly, though he smiled to let Phoebe know he was still kidding. ”Apology accepted. But only because you did not qualify it as a noble would.” Hopefully that would be enough to get another laugh out of her: the darkness of the blight seemed almost entirely gone from her, and the summoner was much more satisfied with this version of the healer.
As she mentioned that opening the doors of the Manor might be the only noble thing he’d ever done, he shrugged and took a bite of the sandwich to cover the embarrassed and sheepish look that stole over him. ”I guess. It seems like the least I could do, given...everything.” Everything he’d done, or rather failed to do, and everything his family actually had done, the horrors they’d inflicted on the people of the Hollowed Grounds. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, but it was still there, so he took a lump of tea to see if that got rid of it. It didn’t. Still, he tried to summon up that easy smile that had come to him only moments ago. ”Well, if anyone else needs a temporary or even permanent place to stay, feel free to send them my way. I’m certainly not using the rooms.” Any of them, though he hoped she didn’t catch the slip and just assumed he meant the other bedrooms.
”It sounds nice. Though I do have to ask why you weren’t there much.” As she spoke about the Launceleyn Manor he couldn’t help flashing back to his less than ideal childhood there. He wasn’t sure what his face showed in that moment before he schooled it into a blank expression, but it couldn’t have been pretty. ”Basically, yes.” Complete with prisons and cells, where they’d kept unruly and weak children. Loren included.
"Indeed, I did not. Because unlike a noble, I mean it when I apologize." she quipped back, a small smile on her lips. It was refreshing to not talk about something serious for the moment. She had been so focused on the blight and figuring it out and trying to understand how cells worked and where everything may have come from that she hadn't relaxed fully in...well she couldn't rightly remember when.
"I will be sure to send them your way." she said. But unfortunately for him, she did catch his little slip up. Despite how hard she was on herself, and her humble nature, she was quite sharp. "But what do you mean you don't use the rooms? Do you not live there?" she asked in confusion.
"A lot of reasons." Phoebe said with a sigh, leaning back into the couch and curling her feet up under her. "I started learning to be a midwife when I was seven. By eleven I was a full-fledged apprentice and I save a Duchess's life when my teacher was tending someone else and she went into labor. She was an older mother so there were complications." she said by way of explanation. "He thought a great way to repay me was to sponsor me to a noblewoman's finishing school. Where I was the only common girl in the entire class. I am sure you can imagine how awful that was." she said, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of tea.
Her honeyed eyes caught the slight shift in his expression before it fell blank, and she raised a brow. For a moment she was silent, just staring at him. Then she glanced down at the tea she held. "You know, part of my training was identifying trauma so I could better assist my patients."
Phoebe was giving as good as she got, not that Loren was trying that hard. They’d somehow managed to progress from argumentative to bantering without it seeming completely unnatural. ”Ouch. I will have to find some way to rise above this egregious and completely uncalled for assault upon my character.” He placed a hand on his heart, as if he really was hurt by her statement, though the grin on his lips belied the gesture.
When she agreed to send folks his way he nodded gratefully. Then, though, his luck held, which meant that it remained terrible and the healer picked up on his verbal misstep. He paused briefly, trying to rein in the flash of irritation he felt. ”I do.” And he did indeed live there. In a room, even, if not a bedroom. Which would hopefully put an end to that particular line of inquiry, even if his words had come out slightly more short and clipped than he’d intended.
Thankfully they moved on to her own history and apprenticeship, and he took the opportunity to finish the sandwich and the tea. If the conversation continued to stray towards his past, he wanted to be able to get out of there. ”Well, that sounds very impressive. I’m sorry the reward wasn't what you wanted, though.” He genuinely meant that, though given who he was she probably wouldn’t believe that.
Of course Phoebe then had to keep pressing him on his childhood and Loren felt the mask he worse to keep people away snap back into place. No more easy banter or quips from him. ”That’s nice. Lucky for us both, I’m not your patient. Just an uppity noble who barged into your clinic making ridiculous demands and helped you carry some boxes.” He smiled to try and soften the blow of his words, but it had a little bit of an edge to it. That way Launceleyn dragon’s be, and he wasn’t going to open up about his trauma to someone he didn’t know, healer or no healer. Given that he’d barely proven capable of telling people he actually was close to, Phoebe didn’t stand a chance.
"Oh, I had forgotten how delicate the noble ego was." she said with a light snicker over the top of her teacup. But as nice as the banter was, she noted the slight edge in his tone as he danced around the question she asked. Well, okay then. Apparently it was a touchy subject. It wasn't worth pressing further on, so she let it drop.
Phoebe shook her head at his apology. "I did want it at first. It meant I could be in school longer and I loved school. But I ended up being harrassed a lot. Ink thrown on dresses my mother spent hours embroidering, cutting my hair, putting pins in my dance shoes..." she sighed and shrugged, looking down at her cup. "Everyone else was noble and wealthy and I was poor and common. I just wanted to do well to prove that I was just as good as they were but that only made it worse."
But her comment was met with a quip response and she raised a brow at him. "I see." she said with a small frown. Quietly she glanced at her medicine cabinet wondering if she could concoct him something to help with whatever it was he didn't want to deal with. "Well. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want. But I can make you some war shock tonics that would probably help your mood while you reintegrate yourself here. It's got to be overwhelming."
Loren placed the back of his hand on his forehead, leaned back in his chair, and sighed dramatically. ”That’s me, a delicate flower, prone to wilting at the first sign of resistance.” That was definitely not true, as Phoebe should know from the way the summoner had argued with her earlier. But the image was hopefully a funny one to her. He was a bit rusty with humor, but he’d always been good at putting himself down. At least he was getting some laughs out of it this time.
Thankfully, she let the comment about his living conditions go. As she spoke about her time at school, however, he gave her a sympathetic look. ”That’s awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. And if those noblewomen were here right now, I’d have a conversation with them about the virtues and qualities that make someone truly noble, like you.” Granted, he didn’t possess many of those properties himself, but he knew where he was lacking. Besides, it seemed the appropriate thing to say.
Unlike what he was about to say to her next. ”I appreciate the offer, but you should save your tonics for those that need them.” More than him, at least: he was beyond saving, and she shouldn’t waste what little time she had left on someone like him. Besides, she had denied him supplies earlier and he didn't necessary trust this turnaround, not completely. How she’d gone from yelling at him and telling him he was a monster for how he’d treated Remi to offering the Launceleyn medicine, he didn’t know. But if he had to leave her with the impression that he was indeed the monster she’d thought at first, to keep her safe from him, he’d do it.
He was getting depressingly good at it. Or maybe he’d always been good at it, and his ability to suppress that part of his nature had atrophied in his time away.
Phoebe actually snorted a laugh at his antics, shaking her head as she smiled slightly at him. "Such a pity." she said with a little laugh, sipping her tea. Pim decided then was a good time to return, having waited near his bowl to no avail for a treat. He clambered up onto the couch with Phoebe, laying his head on her lap. The dragonling watched Loren though, silvery pink eyes staring at him with a predatory gaze. The midwife simply scratched at his scales.
Her cheeks flushed slightly as he called her noble and she shook her head slightly. "There is no reason to be sorry. That is what happens when you're different than anyone else, that's all." she said with a slight sigh. It had shaped her, not defeated her. That was the important part.
But he still refused the medicine and she tilted her head at him. "Oh you mean like you?" she said with a small smirk. "It's up to you and the offer is always on the table." She hadn't offered to give him her medical stores, this was for a very specific medication, dosed for him. They were very different things.
Phoebe had indeed laughed at Loren’s incredibly lame joke, for which he was grateful. It was rare for him to bring joy instead of suffering into the world, so every little bit helped (not that he could ever balance the ledger of what he owed to other people). Pim came back and the Launceleyn gave the dragon a small smile. However, the happy expression slipped off the summoner’s face as the healer continued to speak about her experiences at her school. ”There is. As the only noble here, former or not, I should absolutely apologize for the pain my kind caused you.” Even if he hadn’t been directly responsible, he’d been complicit. ”And just because that’s what happens when you’re different doesn’t mean that’s what should happen. Doesn’t make it right.” His voice came out a little too sharply on that last comment: Phoebe’s words had hit a little too close to home for him to be comfortable. Still, he had no right to take that tone with her. ”Sorry”
Not like him. Because yes, he was deeply traumatized. He knew that. He wouldn’t even deny that fact if he was asked. But where she was wrong was thinking that her medicines could do anything for him. Tough as it might be for her, for Remi, for everyone to swallow, Loren was beyond saving, beyond help. Besides, even if he thought it was possible, he didn’t deserve it. ”Thanks. I appreciate it.” And he did, even if it was unnecessary.
She stared at him in surprise at his sudden passion over the subject. A soft spoken passion but she could hear the edge in his voice. His opinion on it was not what she had expected, but it was endearing in a way. Clearly he was not as stuffy and stuck up as she had perhaps painted him in her mind. ”Don’t apologize for things you can’t control. You weren’t there. You didn’t participate in those things. Blame where blame is due.” she said with a small smile. ”It doesn’t make it right, but it happened. It’s in the past. It made me a more empathetic person…if perhaps a little bit wary of people with status.” she said with a small shrug.
Phoebe merely shook her head at his second apology. ”Don’t apologize for feeling strongly about something. The way you feel is important.” she said, relaying Frey’s words to her to Loren. He probably needed to be reminded of that, if he had suffered a lot in his childhood. ”Of course. I like to help, remember?” she said
”I wasn’t there, but I was a noble, someone with power, and I did help perpetuate the system that allowed it to happen. That much, at least, I controlled. So yes. I am sorry.” Loren had been thinking a lot about this after Remi had rightfully pointed out that, as much as the summoner had suffered, as a duke the Launceleyn was also complicit in the suffering of others. So blame was indeed due, at least in part. ”Good. Not that it happened, obviously, but that you grew from it. And keep being wary.” Of the summoner especially, and his penchant for hurting anyone that tried to get close. Of whatever small amount of status that he might still have left, though he’d no doubt squander it before too long.
Phoebe was wrong, both to tell him that he shouldn’t have said sorry and that his feelings had any worth. After all, after abandoning everyone and everything—becoming Abandoned in truth as well as name—he knew how little his own emotions mattered compared to everyone that he hurt. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted to talk about with her so he just shrugged in response. ”I remember.” Too bad there was no one here to help; she was blighted and he was a cursed monster and it didn’t seem there would be much help for either of them.
Again she found herself staring at him. She wasn’t exactly accustomed to people – especially nobles – taking accountability for things that others of their ilk did. To have it portrayed so bluntly now was a bit confusing. ”Well…it’s appreciated. But hopefully that can be in the past now.” she said with a small smile. It was tiring, holding on to so much. There was indeed much wisdom in Frey’s words, living in the moment rather than existing in the past or future, neither of which could be changed or assured.
She rose as he confirmed he remembered what she said and went to one of her cabinets where she stored prepared remedies. Of course, this disturbed Pim’s pillow and so he grumble growled in irritation. After a moment or two Phoebe returned with a small pouch, filled with a few teas and tonics. ”Good. Then you will also remember that it is in very poor manners to not indulge a lady in her favorite past-times, and drink this tea twice a day, and take the tonics when you feel particularly emotionally distressed.” she said with a cheeky grin as she placed the parcel on his lap.
Loren was a living, breathing reminder that the past would not always stay in the past, but given how bewildered Phoebe was by his statements already he figured it was best not to dwell on this topic for too much longer. As she talked about giving him medicine—medicine that he’d already refused—he figured that his time here was at an end. Taking the satchel and placing it on the arm of the chair he was in, he stood up, a blank mask slamming into place. ”As I said, I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. Besides, I’m not a duke any longer, so I hardly need to worry about good manners now. Thank you for your hospitality.” He fathered up the empty mug and the plate with crumbs on it and turned towards her. ”Where can I clean these?” He was going to wash his dishes and go.
As he set the satchel aside her expression fell, looking genuinely hurt as he refused the medicine. Her lips pressed together and she clasped her hands in front of her. ”I see. You’re welcome” she said softly, not really sure what to do or say in the wake of his refusal. Though it shouldn’t be that much of a shock. Refusal, rejection, and failure were becoming the symphonic background music to the tale of her days. She lifted her hands to take his dishes, shaking her head a bit. ”It is quite alright. I can wash them.” she said quietly, hoping he would at least let her do this.
At the hurt expression on Phoebe’s face Loren relented somewhat. Not enough to take the medicine: he wasn’t going to take a cure he didn’t need and hadn’t earned when there were others that could use it far more than he. But his expression softened. ”Believe me when I say that this is all on me, and that you shouldn’t feel bad. And thank you for actually talking to me when you had every right to throw me out for my arrogance and for hurting those you care about.” He handed over his dishes and then walked out the door without a backwards glance.
