we can't make any promises now

At the question about Loren’s personality, he flinched. The truth of the matter was, he’d gone through so many different personas in his life that he didn’t know which one was real and which ones were fake, or put on. But he was afraid that yes, he had always been like this at heart and nothing could change that. It might have been tough to accept but he had to in order to be able to move on with the remnants of his life. Pushing people away to keep them safe was just about the only thing he knew how to do. Since he didn’t have an answer readily available, he just shrugged. Then, because he felt that was a totally inadequate response, he rolled up first one sleeve, and then the other, exposing his forearms up to the elbow, and with them, the old but awful scars that rested on every inch of his pale skin. These weren’t even the worst of them, but they were bad enough. “I don’t know. I don’t really know who I am. All I know is that people close to me hurt me, and then I went and hurt the people close to me in return. That's been the only constant in my life.” He didn’t know why he bothered to say anything, bothered to show anything at all; perhaps he was still hoping, probably in vain, that he could scare Remi off. He stayed silent through the alchemist’s explanation about the doors. It was useful to know, but painful as well, to hear the other man being so open and honest about what sounded like a terrible experience. For starters, Loren would definitely check out the penitentiary (not that he knew where it was, but he’d figure it out), and then if that didn’t turn up a key try to hunt down both the keys and passageways in the manor. “I’ll look into it.” He took a deep breath before fixing Remi with the sternest gaze the Launceleyn dared employ. It hardly sounded like the alchemist had the most pleasant memories of that time. “Alone, though. You already have enough on your plate.” And the last thing Loren wanted to do was add to the other man’s burdens. Besides, just because Loren had stayed this long didn't make this easy on him. Indeed, every moment that passed caused him to sink deeper into his sorry. On the topic of Remi's many burdens, Loren found himself biting his lip. “Your….eyes. I...I could try to heal them? If you want?” Not knowing the cause of the blindness—and knowing his healing wasn’t the strongest—all the summoner could do was offer to try. Others, more skilled and powerful had probably done so already, but the librarian knew he couldn’t walk away from here without at least asking. LOREN Not quite an open book

Tilting his head softly to the side in a gesture all too bird-like, Remi watched with confused if not slightly hesitant eyes, his breath catching and remaining in his chest. Though he didn't recall it, he knew enough from what had long gone unsaid about he and Loren, to know that their relationship had indeed once progressed to being physical. Though Remi was far from the innocent soul he'd once been—not to mention the baring of forearms was hardly a call for concern—still something urged him to be careful. All of that disappeared though as the scars that silvered Loren's arms became apparent, and Remi hissed in a strained and empathetic sound. Instinctively the alchemist's hands released his own arms as if to touch the scars, though there was no healing in his fingertips. Remi's inability to physically touch other men had long since gone, leaving his urge to offer comfort often too close to the surface. Quickly noticing where his hands were going, his fingers curled inwards and he hummed a sound of acknowledgement, letting his hands fall to his sides. "If losing my memories has taught me one thing...it is that we are not who we were. This does not have to be you any longer, if you do not let it." Unconsciously as Remi re-crossed his arms, he trailed his finger tips against his side where deep and horrific looking scars obscured the topography of his skin. Scars from when he'd nearly killed a man for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Scars from a time he hadn't been able to control himself. "Oh I have, have I?" Remi returned with a raised brow. Where once any command by the Launceleyn was treated as near gospel, Caido had removed both literal and metaphorical cuffs from Remi's wrists leaving him free to disagree as he pleased. "You seem to be quite good at telling me what I think and what I can do." He added with a chuckle. "But I suppose if you have time to waste, be my guest. I am quite good at what I do though, even when I do not wish to do it." So saying the alchemist offered the librarian a sly shrug. Loren could be difficult all he liked. Remi was quite confident that in a battle between his mind and the Launceleyn's stubbornness, the alchemist would prove the victor. "Oh." Remi hummed softly as he raised a hand to his cheek, touching featherlight fingers there as his eyes lowered. A sad smile played on his lips as he shook his head. "The witch who did this was...well. I have yet to meet many stronger than she, save for the gods. The unicorns have tried to heal it but have not been able to." Not a no exactly. But a save your strength, to be sure. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

Loren saw Remi’s hand coming up, and immediately stepped back, panic rising in the Launceleyn’s chest. He didn’t know if it was his general aversion to physical contact or if was the other man’s touch he specifically feared. Regardless, the Launceleyn jerked his sleeves down to prevent even the possibility of contact occurring. The alchemist’s voice gave him pause for a moment, but the summoner resumed his motions soon enough. It meant he didn’t need to meet the other man’s eyes. “I don’t know how to be anyone else.” That admission was difficult, and he continued to look down, unable to bear Remi’s gaze any longer. Loren looked up, however, when the alchemist responded to the librarian’s command with a laughing refusal. He didn’t have a good reply to the comment about issuing orders. Nor did he know what to say about Remi’s new (or maybe not so new) self-confidence: the Launceleyn had always known that to be true, that the other man was skilled and competent. It had just been the Attuned who doubted himself. As for wasting time, well, time seemed to be both in short supply and the only thing Loren could spare these days. He’d find the hours somehow, even if it meant he didn’t sleep. After all, he’d spent long enough in a dream already. But he did know what to say to Remi’s rhetorical question about everything resting on the other man’s shoulders. “You do. You have to get everyone ready for LongNight or else face the consequences. And...” Here Loren hesitated, knowing he should probably stay silent about this next part. Unfortunately, it needed to be said. “And I know about Ronin.” From the king himself, not that Loren would admit that. By extension, Remi was probably feeling responsible for taking care of the blight, but if Loren’s memories weren’t completely off—and the alchemist hadn’t completely changed—the other man must be in agony watching his husband suffer. Although the summoner hadn’t known the unicorns could heal, he couldn’t say he was surprised. It was in line with all the myths and lore he knew about them. Obviously he wanted to know more about this witch—if only to know if she needed to be hunted down, powerful magic or not—but that didn’t seem to be his place. Not yet, not anymore, probably not ever. “I’d have to touch you.” It was spoken more to himself than to the other man. Whether it was a warning or a prayer, Loren couldn’t say; still, he uncoiled himself and stepped forward, calling upon the energy that dwelled within him, causing his fingers to glow with a soft sky-blue light. If Remi didn’t stop him or step away, then the Launceleyn would press his fingertips to the alchemist’s temples, and pour as much magic as the summoner could muster into the spell. It probably wouldn’t be enough. Nothing he did ever was. LOREN Not quite an open book

Watching Loren flinch backwards, hiding the skin he'd deigned to reveal with such swiftness made the alchemist internally tremble with remorse. It wasn't that he'd wanted to touch the librarian's arms in so many words, nor that he wanted the skin to remain bare, so much as it was merely one step forward and two back. Then again, had he remembered anything of their intertwined past, he'd have been reassured that such had been common place with them anyhow. "Well, you are meant to be quite the clever man." Remi said, tone light and accent easy as he tried to leave behind the awkwardness his hands had caused. Just as the alchemist was about to offer some boyish and breezy hand wave—Ahh just another pact with a god I likely cannot keep. What else is new—the mention of Ronin immediately pulled the smile from his lips. Gravity seemed to pull the levity from his expression, rendering the alchemist entirely solemn and earnest as he nodded. For a slow moment, Remi's eyes searched Loren's face, the corners creasing inwards as his shattered stare narrowed. I know about Ronin. As my husband? As the king? As a man dying? "Mmmm." Remi hummed, a low and discordant note. "We have been told Vi has a plan, so..." He added rather lamely, his downcast eyes and hollow voice suggesting the alchemist wasn't holding out hope for divine intervention. Drawing in a breath through lips slightly parted, the alchemist again thoroughly roamed over Loren's face, his words reverberating as both a question, a warning, a threat. Within arms reach now as necessitated by his magic, Remi blinked uncertainly, the blue of Loren's eyes quite clear now amidst the de-saturated tones the alchemist's strange vision painted him in. He suddenly both did and didn't want to close his eyes; not seeing might still some of his anxiety at having not just someone, but Loren so near, his fingers on Remi's face, but it would also open up a world of other worries. If the Launceleyn ever did care for the alchemist, did he now? Did he want him still? Would he try? And so, trembling only slightly as the mage's glowing fingers pressed against his temples, Remi indeed kept his eyes open, fixed on Loren's. Feathers fluttered in his curls while at the same time, a claw grew from one of the alchemist's fingers and was pressed deeply into his palm hard enough to draw blood. It was on the prickle of pain he focused, for anything else would lead to madness. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

Again, Loren flinched, though this time from the words that came from Remi’s mouth. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t...don’t compliment me.” The Launceleyn hugged himself once more, as if to fend off any further kindness. “You don’t remember me. Don’t know who I am. That's what you said, right? So don't pretend you do.” The Attuned had his memories completely stripped away. That meant his comment was either completely made up or secondhand from someone else, and the summoner didn’t want either fabrication. If they were going to be starting over (which he still doubted they could, if only because he would fail somehow), then they couldn’t rely on knowledge from the past, remembered or otherwise. Bringing up Ronin had ruined Remi’s mood, as Loren had known it would. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the easy manner drain from the other man’s face, knowing it was the librarian’s fault. He only opened them when the alchemist spoke. “And I’ve been told the gods are fickle, and not to be relied on.” Not that it had stopped the summoner from going out to pray. However, no one had answered his call, which sort of proved his point: if there was any benevolence in the higher powers, they wouldn’t have cursed Ronin and forced Remi to shoulder the burden, not after all they both had already been through. If anyone deserved divine judgment, it was the Launceleyn. And yet here he stood, relatively unscathed. Still, he regretted his statement. He wasn't trying to make the other man feel worse, only point out that if Remi was going to give help to someone, it shouldn't be Loren. The magic poured out of him, but to no avail. Still, he kept the spell going, perhaps past when he should; it was only when he began to feel lightheaded that he broke it off. However, while Remi’s eyes remained unchanged, the healing magic still sensed something within the alchemist’s body. Unbeknownst to Loren, a trickle of his power slid down to the other man’s palm. The Launceleyn, for his part, dropped his hands and staggered backwards until he hit a nearby wall, which he slumped against. “I’m…” He stopped himself. He’d been about to say he was sorry, but even he knew this couldn’t possibly laid at his feet. However, just because this attempt had failed didn’t mean Loren would stop trying. Maybe his healing wasn’t powerful enough (at least, not yet), but that didn’t mean someone out there didn’t have the skill to restore Remi’s sight to what it should be. LOREN Not quite an open book

"That is why I said that you are meant to be." The alchemist countered with boyish good humour. Unlike Loren, Remi was perfectly fine relying on certain bits of testimony from others. That the Launceleyn was clever seemed to be a given. Had he heard anecdotes about how the man liked his breakfast or what order he put on his shoes, Remi might not have put much faith in them. But his intellect? It was one of the few things he thought he could know for sure. "I am not pretending Loren." He added. It was one thing for the Launceleyn to brush him off, but another to be brushed. And for all the barbs Loren might throw his way, Remi's skin had grown considerably thicker since they last met. With a snort that served as his acknowledgement, the alchemist could only rub his hand anxiously across the back of his neck. Fickle was an understatement to be sure, but while Remi had little faith in the gods themselves, he did trust in his friends. Amalia, the most pious of them all, had spoken to Vi. And then again the God came to her in a dream. If any were worth relying on, it was she. Whether that would be enough... A halo of blue bled around, the colour strangely contrasting Loren's eyes that were not the soft pebble-blue of the light, but something much darker and complex. The touch against his temples were not warm as he had expected, but buzzed and sent strange honeycombs of light through his body. His eyes though, remained unchanged. Loren was still bathed in unhappy shades of gray save for his eyes, and the world around was a messy smear of haphazard strokes. The more the magician's magic healed the wound in his hand, the harder Remi pressed. As the Launceleyn parted, staggering backwards, Remi instinctively and immediately followed. Loren's predilection for not being touched hadn't been communicated to the alchemist, and despite the history between the two, worry for the man's wellbeing trumped whatever background concerns were buzzing noisily in his mind. Reaching out for Loren's arm, to steady him against the wall or provide some sort of anchor were he to continue to slump down the wall, the alchemist tried to step closer still; as close as they'd previously been standing if not more. "Shhh, you are alright." The alchemist all but sang, his voice gentle and sweet as if speaking to a wounded animal. He knew magical exhaustion better than most, having very recently nearly been killed by Zariah because of precisely that reason. In the hand not holding Loren (not that it likely had been successful in touching him of course), the alchemist created a piece of peppermint bark. "Here, this helps." He added in that same soft tone, holding out the palm-sized piece of bark towards Loren. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

Actually, Loren was meant to be a tool, a weapon in service to the crown of Northwind, nothing more, nothing less. That had been what his family had molded him into, and it was only when he strayed form that preordained path that the problems began. “I was supposed to be a lot of things, Remi, and I failed at all of them.” Left hand of the family; savior of his kin; friend to Ronin; and, most of all, Remi’s lover and partner in all things. Strangely enough, the librarian didn’t sound bitter, just resigned. It helped that he felt so empty inside. Giving the other man an inscrutable look, the Launceleyn considered his reply. “If you say so. But then I have to ask, what are you doing, Remi? Here, with me.” Surely the alchemist had more pressing concerns than a ghost from the past that the curly-haired man didn’t remember and that didn’t even want to be here. If the summoner hadn’t been recovering from overuse of magic, maybe he would’ve seen this coming, maybe he could’ve prevented his reaction. As it was, when Remi’s hand closed around Loren’s arm, he panicked; twisting, he threw himself out of the other man’s grip with a strangled shriek. “No!” He moved away in a tangle of limbs, and, in his uncoordinated retreat, tripped over his own feet. So down he went, slamming into the ground, though he broke his fall properly, like he’d been trained. Still, this didn’t stop him from scrambling backwards on his hands and knees until his back was to the wall again. He focused on his breathing then, trying to get it in some semblance of order. At the same time, he fought off the rising anxiety within him. It had just been a passing touch, and Remi had obviously not meant to hurt him. Unconsciously, he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, rocking himself slightly where he sat. Slowly, ever so slowly, he managed to control himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice still sounds slightly frantic, and his mouth was dry, so he swallowed, trying to regain some moisture. “I don’t like to be touched.” Although he’d thought he’d gotten over that—with Remi, at least—either it had returned during his time away or it was a reflex that needed to be constantly tested in order to break the habit. Loren didn’t know. And he had no intention of testing it any time soon. LOREN Not quite an open book

The alchemist merely offered the librarian a flat stare in the face of such abject self-pity. It simply couldn't be true that Loren had failed at everything, not that Remi thought it would do much good to point out that failing did entail being a failure. So instead he simply exhaled through slightly flared nostrils, one brow skeptically raised. The duke's next question had him quizzically tilting his head. So altruistically inclined was the alchemist, that for a few seconds he truly didn't understand what it was Loren meant. "You asked for my help." He said simply after a few seconds. "And... well. We were friends before." Whether 'before' was meant to indicate before their relationship became physical, or 'before' Remi lost his memories, was unclear. As Loren jerked away so suddenly, the alchemist immediately relinquished his grip, holding up the offending hand in a placating gesture. The position the librarian took instantly reminded Remi of Sam; both now having the same far too thin build, the diminishing self confidence and worth, the drawn up knees and wild-eyed look. Guilt blossomed darkly in his chest, rising up into his lungs and making his muscles grow cold. "Loren." The alchemist whispered softly, his accent carrying the man's name not so much as a word, but merely a sound. Letting himself sink down as well, balancing easily on his heels, the alchemist interlaced his fingers together—the peppermint bark forgotten now—to indicate that he'd keep them that way. "Is this how you want to be?" Remi prompted gently, shattered-stare questioning but not overbearing. If it was true that the Launceleyn might reinvent himself in the wake of apparent catastrophic failure, this seemed a likely enough place to start. Not wanting to be touched was one thing, Remi understood that. Leaping out of one's skin was another. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

Loren sighed, knowing Remi still didn’t get it. The other man still felt that there was something good or right to be done here, when it was just a tragedy all around. Despite every effort by the Launcleeyn, he couldn’t seem to disabuse the alchemist of his optimism. “I did. I asked you for a key. But you don’t have one, and you don’t know where they are. So I was going to go and see if I could find them.” However, then the librarian just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. If only he’d kept his distance, none of this would have come to pass. It needed to happen eventually, of course, but it had gone all topsy-turvy and he didn’t know which way to feel anymore. So he chose to feel nothing. "Before. Not now." Perhaps, one day, when being in the presence of Remi didn't bring up so many painful memories and feelings they could be friends. But as it stood, it was agony to be so close to the alchemist, and yet know the summoner could never be as close to the other man as Loren once had been. Then the Launceleyn was on the ground, curled up in a protective ball. As the other man spoke softly, almost intimately, Loren closed his eyes and rested his chin on his knees. “I already told you, it doesn’t matter what I want.” He started crying again, though softly and silently this time, terror still lingering in his limbs from the touch of the other man. The uninvited physical contact had managed to squeeze the last bit of sorrow out of the librarian, in a way the other man’s words couldn’t. LOREN Not quite an open book

Briefly, Remi wondered if it had always been like this between them. Had he always had to chase the Launceleyn, to constantly bat away everything lobbed in his path? If he had ever stopped or taken a break, had he been criticized for it? It felt like a game less than a test. A game he was meant to lose, for inevitably there would come a time he didn't defend the Launceleyn against himself, and then surely he'd be like all the others. It hurt, somewhere deep inside, to think of their situation like that. Hurt, but didn't dissuade. "And I told you that it does matter. Or it can, if only you let it. Not knowing how is hardly an excuse." The alchemist countered gently, but firmly. As Loren's chin found his knees and silent tears streamed from his eyes, Remi had to curl the fingers intertwined around one another as a reminder not to reach out. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

This was getting them nowhere. They were simply going in circles, the same ones they’d already well trod in the past. Only this time, there’d be only cold comfort at the end of the road, at least for Loren. That was probably the best that he could hope for, and all that he could allow himself to take from Remi. Any more would just make the librarian’s heart break further. And it wouldn’t be fair to either of them, but especially the alchemist. But this was a cycle, that's what the Launceleyn realized in that moment. Both with him, and with the two of them, and with the summoner’s family. Though he might not deserve this second chance, what he’d been given here was a rare opportunity to perhaps break the wheel that had sent him spinning towards oblivion time and time again, or at least change its course. Despite the fact that he doubted himself now more than ever, he forced himself to meet the other man’s eyes, even though Loren’s vision still swam with tears. “I will try. To...change.” That’s all he really could do, he supposed, try. He was too tired of this endless game of cat and mouse that left him more and more empty with each round. Dashing the tears on the back of his hand, he turned his head to stare at the ground. “But it will take time.” And space, which Loren didn’t ask for. He wasn’t sure the other man would give it to him. LOREN Not quite an open book

Space? Without being asked? With nothing of Loren's past to go off of leaving him now seemed not to be a viable solution to the alchemist. All he felt from this once-lover was a wellspring of insecurity and Remi could think of no real way of extraditing the process in a way which would leave the Launceleyn feeling anything but scorned further. Unlike the Remi of the past, this new iteration preferred to be damned for the things he did, rather than those he didn't do. Standing, for the second time in this short and strange encounter, the alchemist held his hand out for Loren. The librarian could easily get himself to his feet, but once again the gesture was more symbolic than anything else. "It always does." The alchemist agreed with far more understanding than he'd once been capable of. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences

Well, now that tears had been shed and promises made, it was just awkward. A short silence stretched between the two of them, and Loren didn’t know how to fill it. After such a lengthy back and forth and period of intense soul baring (on his part at least), it seemed wrong that the day would just go on as normal. That the sun should shine and passerby would give him curious and concerned looks. So he just sat there for a moment as Remi stood up, wondering where they could possibly go from here. Then the other man offered his hand. The Launceleyn eyed it, wondering whether he dared to take it. Checking in with both his mind and his body—and his totally jumbled feelings for the other man—the librarian found himself frozen, rooted to the ground. It was safe there, and familiar. This new path he’d so stupidly agreed to held nothing but uncertainty and terror. However, that had been what his old life held as well, and at least taking a chance here held the possibility for redemption. So he realized that he should be asking himself whether he dared not to take it. There was only one way to find out. Gingerly, he reached out and placed his hand in the other man’s; Loren braced himself for an adverse reaction, but all he felt were the callouses on Remi’s fingers and palm. Still, when he stood up, the librarian made sure to place only the barest of pressure’s on the alchemist’s grip, and once the summoner had regained his feet, he let go immediately and took a step back, unconsciously running his other hand through his hair. His nerves needed an outlet, after all. “I know.” Standing there for just a moment, Loren looked at the sky, the ground, the surrounding buildings, anywhere but Remi. “So...now what?” The Launceleyn felt like an idiot for even asking. But obviously, as he’d told the other man, the librarian didn’t know the way forward. LOREN Not quite an open book

As with their relationship before, nothing about Loren and Remi fit nicely and neatly together. So it was that as Remi's strong fingers softly molded around the mage's, it was not like one piece settling against another; hands made to fit. Instead it was merely strength and confidence against cold and hesitant fingers. Even so, a boyishly pleased smile spread across the alchemist's face even as the Launceleyn tore his hand away as if Remi's touch was something sickly and revolting. "You are lucky it was just a hand. It might have been this—" So saying the alchemist held out a hand, transformed into a giant tawny paw punctuated with long claws. The pads of said paw were rough, not unlike sand paper. "—or—" Extending his other hand, it too transformed into something black and dexterous looking, with small claws good for tearing open garbage and scaling trees. Flexing his fingers as his hands become his own again, he merely shot Loren a mischievous smile. "Well..." Remi replied with a long exhale. "I suppose now you go back to the manor and see whether or not you are better at finding secret passage ways, or if I am better at hiding them." He answered cheekily. REMI Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured & I lost so much more than my senses 'Cause loving you had consequences