flooded lungs

Deimos might say it was good to officially meet Loren, but the man’s posture and expression belied the words. Although the Launceleyn had been a poor spy—more because of lack of interest than because he was bad at it—he’d picked up a little bit of his father’s craft in a failed attempt to gain Cyton’s affection. What the summoner knew was to watch the eyes. Someone might lie with their tongue, but their eyes always betrayed them. Sighing, Loren ran a hand through his hair. He was too tired and drained to deal with this posturing, so he carefully considered whether or not to do something to put the other man at ease. Ah, screw subtle. Loren had nothing to hide anymore, empty as he was inside. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a lot to answer for. It just meant he would be straightforward about it. “I probably should’ve given my full name earlier. It’s Loren Launceleyn.” His tone was mostly resigned, though he watched Deimos carefully as he said that; the man had obviously heard the summoner’s declaration at the meeting, so there was no point in hiding his identity. “So if you’re a friend of Remi, I have every intention of staying away from him. And if you’re an enemy of Zariah I have no intention of carrying on her legacy.” Maybe he should get a sign made so he had to stop explaining that to people. It would have to be a bit more pithy than that though. Maybe something like ‘Yes, Launceleyn, Yes asshole, No not dangerous (except to self).’ He would do it, too, if he thought people would believe it. Then the unicorn (who was called Zuriel, apparently) came back. And even though she acted in an aggressive manner—and even though Loren was incredibly grumpy and depressed and in no mood for whimsy—the Launceleyn found himself grinning, holding his hands up to show he posed no threat to her or her master. Apparently, even a summoner, one who could called mythical beings into life with a thought and an effort of will, even one as broken as he, could find whimsy in the antics of a unicorn. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Zuriel.” The librarian had to call out after her, since she darted off to explore more puddles. Which continued to give Loren tantalizing glimpses out of the corner of his eye. However, after having been beguiled before, he was doing his best to avoid staring into one again. Thankfully, the conversation with Deimos was a most welcome distraction. As the warrior seemed to get lost in thought, Loren waited patiently. “Well, that’s good. As I mentioned, I don’t have the best history with illusionists. My own magic is pretty useless against them.” That’s why he had his glasses. Again, the Launceleyn was trying to convey how little a threat he posed. He certainly didn’t look like he could put up a fight, given the sorry state he was in. Besides, he’d already admitted he was a summoner, which was his most potent skill, to a whole group of people including Deimos. The comment about the will-o-wisps was legitimately useful advice. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll try to steer clear of them.” Then the conversation swung back to the puddles and Loren found himself hesitating. “It’s showing me flashes, but also full visions.” He couldn’t help the shudder that passed through him as he remembered the first one, the mocking words of his family that had him to the core. “I don’t know why it’s different for me.” Perhaps it had a little to do with the tragedy Loren brought with him like a cloak everywhere he went. LOREN Not quite an open book