The white sheep of the family
Remi probably was right to be suspicious about Loren’s eating habits, considering how thin the Launceleyn still was and how he sometimes still missed meals because of how busy he’d found himself. ”Alright, fine, I’ll tell you what. If you really don’t think I’m capable of feeding myself then you can take over the job.” It would cost the summoner basically nothing but his pride—which was practically nonexistent these days—and it would probably make the alchemist happy.
Now that the other man mentioned it, Loren did vaguely remember that Remi had his own methods of piercing magical veils. Shrugging, the Launceleyn just slid the chain of his glasses over his head rather than try to put it back in his once more hidden pockets. ”Wow. And here I was trying to do a nice thing, and then you had to go and rub my face in your superior magical trinkets.” The summoner’s voice came out in a wry drawl; honestly, he didn’t know if the alchemist had his divine lenses on him, but apparently the Launceleyn’s gesture had been enough to convince Remi that this was no illusion and no lie. As the other man mirrored the direction of Loren’s head, he couldn’t help but notice that some green bled into the alchemist’s eyes. It was probably just a trick of the light, however.
Then, Remi was reaching out and pulling the summoner towards the alchemist, and Loren’s breath caught in his throat. For an eternal awfully wonderful and wonderfully awful second, he thought that the other man would...nope. A raccoon was suddenly clinging to the front of his clothes, and the sudden release of tension caused the Launceleyn to laugh, high and clear and pure.
Astra, having decided either that the two men had ignored her for long enough or that the presence of the raccoon indicated playtime, or more likely both, made an excited bleating noise, bounded over and nearly bowled Loren over in her excitement. Indeed, when she head butted him he rocked where he stood, then chuckled and, heedless of the snow, knelt suddenly covered in even more fur. Mostly, he stroked the luxere, not quite brave enough to pet the other man, even as a raccoon. Or perhaps especially as a raccoon, or maybe just because it was Remi and petting was too close to forbidden territory.
Now that the other man mentioned it, Loren did vaguely remember that Remi had his own methods of piercing magical veils. Shrugging, the Launceleyn just slid the chain of his glasses over his head rather than try to put it back in his once more hidden pockets. ”Wow. And here I was trying to do a nice thing, and then you had to go and rub my face in your superior magical trinkets.” The summoner’s voice came out in a wry drawl; honestly, he didn’t know if the alchemist had his divine lenses on him, but apparently the Launceleyn’s gesture had been enough to convince Remi that this was no illusion and no lie. As the other man mirrored the direction of Loren’s head, he couldn’t help but notice that some green bled into the alchemist’s eyes. It was probably just a trick of the light, however.
Then, Remi was reaching out and pulling the summoner towards the alchemist, and Loren’s breath caught in his throat. For an eternal awfully wonderful and wonderfully awful second, he thought that the other man would...nope. A raccoon was suddenly clinging to the front of his clothes, and the sudden release of tension caused the Launceleyn to laugh, high and clear and pure.
Astra, having decided either that the two men had ignored her for long enough or that the presence of the raccoon indicated playtime, or more likely both, made an excited bleating noise, bounded over and nearly bowled Loren over in her excitement. Indeed, when she head butted him he rocked where he stood, then chuckled and, heedless of the snow, knelt suddenly covered in even more fur. Mostly, he stroked the luxere, not quite brave enough to pet the other man, even as a raccoon. Or perhaps especially as a raccoon, or maybe just because it was Remi and petting was too close to forbidden territory.
Will blood tell
