The white sheep of the family
When Remi mentioned the walk home Loren tried to muster up a smile. ”Hope so.” Not having to stop every few minutes to talk would probably help with that, even if the Fae didn’t. At the explanation that the Fae were kind to their prisoners and that he’d be released relatively soon he nodded. ”Okay. That’s good to know.” At least there would be a finite period to his disappearance this time. As the clothes and the blanket appeared—far too beautiful and luxurious—Loren sighed and left them where they were.
However, when the alchemist turned away in such a dejected manner, the summoner felt the guilt already gnawing at his gut grow exponentially. He ran through the events since his foolish attempt to get through to the Fae. And he remembered that Remi was mostly blind and might not be able to see into the pit or Loren's facial expressions. And the Launceleyn thought about what the other man said about Loren making assumptions about what others felt and how he came across as cold and uncaring when he tried to do the right thing. And the summoner thought through the conversation the two of them had just had, and how it might have come across to the alchemist.
Damn it. Loren had done it again. He’d gotten so wrapped up in himself, and his plight, and not wanting to burden others that he’d just made everything worse all on his own. And he’d forged ahead without actually making any amends for what he’d done. Hoping that it wasn’t too late, he called out to the departing figure of the other man. ”Remi, wait. You can stay, if you want. I just...assumed you wouldn’t want to, and that it would be a waste of your time.” But it was Remi’s time to waste. Sighing, the summoner ran an anxious hand through his hair and gave the alchemist a sad smile; even if Remi couldn’t see it, Loren could feel it. Though he also made sure his voice was properly contrite. ”I’m sorry for making a mess of everything, and for putting you through all this. And…” He hesitated, wondering if he was just making everything worse. ”I seriously doubt anyone will ask about me, or care. But if they do tell them I fucked up again.” It was all he seemed capable of doing: he’d been warned not to push too far with the Fae, and not to think he ever knew better than others, and he’d ignored it all. He hugged himself sadly, wondering if he'd ever be able to change the worst parts of himself.
However, when the alchemist turned away in such a dejected manner, the summoner felt the guilt already gnawing at his gut grow exponentially. He ran through the events since his foolish attempt to get through to the Fae. And he remembered that Remi was mostly blind and might not be able to see into the pit or Loren's facial expressions. And the Launceleyn thought about what the other man said about Loren making assumptions about what others felt and how he came across as cold and uncaring when he tried to do the right thing. And the summoner thought through the conversation the two of them had just had, and how it might have come across to the alchemist.
Damn it. Loren had done it again. He’d gotten so wrapped up in himself, and his plight, and not wanting to burden others that he’d just made everything worse all on his own. And he’d forged ahead without actually making any amends for what he’d done. Hoping that it wasn’t too late, he called out to the departing figure of the other man. ”Remi, wait. You can stay, if you want. I just...assumed you wouldn’t want to, and that it would be a waste of your time.” But it was Remi’s time to waste. Sighing, the summoner ran an anxious hand through his hair and gave the alchemist a sad smile; even if Remi couldn’t see it, Loren could feel it. Though he also made sure his voice was properly contrite. ”I’m sorry for making a mess of everything, and for putting you through all this. And…” He hesitated, wondering if he was just making everything worse. ”I seriously doubt anyone will ask about me, or care. But if they do tell them I fucked up again.” It was all he seemed capable of doing: he’d been warned not to push too far with the Fae, and not to think he ever knew better than others, and he’d ignored it all. He hugged himself sadly, wondering if he'd ever be able to change the worst parts of himself.
Will blood tell
