we can't make any promises now

Remi’s voice gave the summoner pause, but only for a breath that came too fast. The cheerful bell was entirely at odds with Loren’s heavy heart as he walked into the too, too familiar chaos. It was almost exactly what he remembered, even though nothing was the same: the scattered projects in various stages of disarray and assembly, ingredients and components strewn about seemingly at random but also seemingly perfectly placed, and even telescopes, which nearly stopped Loren in his tracks when he saw them. It hammered home even harder to Loren what he’d almost had and then lost through his own folly and weakness. This was what could’ve been, his real life dream turned to a nightmare of his own making. Somehow he managed to stumble the last few steps into the heart of the workshop. Then the pain got unimaginably worse (which he hadn’t thought possible) when the summoner actually laid eyes on the alchemist. It was the first time the Launceleyn had seen the other man up close, and the changes were obvious. Where Loren had hollowed out, Remi had filled out, put on muscle; his healthy frame probably looked even more so when compared to the librarian’s too sharp cheekbones. Perhaps even stranger was the magic that the alchemist could now seemingly employ. At least, that's what Loren had to assume, strange as it was, since near as he could tell it was just the two of them. That had always been one of Remi’s dearest wishes, and what Loren had provided the other man for a short time. The happiest days of Loren’s life. One of them had gotten everything they’d ever wanted, and the other was just an empty man who hadn’t realized it was past time to give up. But the biggest change was Remi’s blind yet still seeing eyes. The white was a sharp contrast from the brilliant green they’d been. Worst of all—and Loren’s salvation all the same—was that even now, even as the summoner stood there, searching for some sign from any source above or below, there was no flicker of recognition in the alchemist’s filmy gaze. For a long moment Loren remained silent. He was debating whether or not to say something in the face of Remi’s utter lack of reaction. On the one hand, it seemed unfair to stand here in full knowledge of who Loren was and what they’d been to one another; on the other hand, Loren was barely holding on to his sanity, and a confrontation with Remi would shatter what little mind the Launceleyn had left. Those paths stretched before him, equally terrible. There was no right choice, only bad and worse. He decided, because he couldn’t stand here forever. And he’d picked the coward’s route, choosing to say nothing and get in and out as quickly as possible. He knew it was wrong of him, and that he was putting off the inevitable, and that it would just make it worse in the end. But simply standing here was taking everything he had left. Any more would tear his already shattered soul completely to pieces. Cold steel and mountain lakes. He pictured both, and focused on his breath, and only then did he trust himself to speak. “Hello there.” His voice came out stiffly, but that was probably the best he could manage under the circumstances. It certainly beat sobbing uncontrollably. “I was just stopping by because you mentioned at the meeting that there were magically sealed doors at the Launceleyn Manor, and I was wondering if I could get a key.” There, all business. Let this be all business. Because there certainly wouldn’t be any pleasure in it. LOREN Not quite an open book