The white sheep of the family
Thankfully, Remi let Loren capture the other man’s hand in the summoner’s own. As the alchemist’s eyes clouded with tears and then closed, the Launceleyn made sure his grip on Remi's fingers was firm. ”So you concede this competition to me, then?” There was a gentle humor in Loren’s voice, as well as a coaxing tone: if Remi would just come back from wherever his mind had taken him, the summoner would be content.
Then the other man looked up and met the Launceleyn’s eyes and her found himself holding his breath at the look in Remi’s suddenly green irises and the tone in the other man's voice. Almost, almost, Loren demanded to know why the alchemist couldn’t speak whatever happened to be on his mind to the summoner. That wasn't the full honesty they'd agreed too, after all. However, the feathers in the other man’s hair and brushing against the Launceleyn’s skin caused him to hesitate. To listen. To look. And while the summoner really didn’t understand what this last barrier was that the alchemist had erected (except maybe in a dark, secret place where Loren had locked away some feelings that he, too, could not express to Remi), the Launceleyn would respect this boundary.
”Okay. If you’re sure.” His voice came out in a soft and uncertain whisper. Giving the other man’s hand one last squeeze, the summoner let go, arms falling to his side helplessly. ”Can you at least tell me what I can do for you that you will accept?” Because they couldn’t keep going like this, or at least Loren didn’t think they could.
Then the other man looked up and met the Launceleyn’s eyes and her found himself holding his breath at the look in Remi’s suddenly green irises and the tone in the other man's voice. Almost, almost, Loren demanded to know why the alchemist couldn’t speak whatever happened to be on his mind to the summoner. That wasn't the full honesty they'd agreed too, after all. However, the feathers in the other man’s hair and brushing against the Launceleyn’s skin caused him to hesitate. To listen. To look. And while the summoner really didn’t understand what this last barrier was that the alchemist had erected (except maybe in a dark, secret place where Loren had locked away some feelings that he, too, could not express to Remi), the Launceleyn would respect this boundary.
”Okay. If you’re sure.” His voice came out in a soft and uncertain whisper. Giving the other man’s hand one last squeeze, the summoner let go, arms falling to his side helplessly. ”Can you at least tell me what I can do for you that you will accept?” Because they couldn’t keep going like this, or at least Loren didn’t think they could.
Will blood tell
