The white sheep of the family
The emotion in Remi’s voice took Loren by surprise. To prevent the alchemist from seeing that—and so the summoner could prevent himself from doing or saying anything else to make this worse—the Launceleyn bent down and scooped up the fabrics the other man had so generously provided. It was more than Loren deserved, as was the concern Remi was now displaying. ”I make more mistakes than most. And I did hurt you all, and I still don’t think there’s any way I can ever make up for that.” That was so totally obvious that the Launceleyn couldn’t believe he was saying it. Staring up at the other man with a haunted expression on the summoner’s face, he tried to smile to soften the blow that was about to come, though it failed to reach his eyes. At least he made sure his voice was gentle. ”Past tense, Remi.”
Cared. Loved. Not care, not love, not anything in the present and Loren had accepted that. It was the other man who was having so much trouble with the concept. All the summoner could do was try to minimize the hurt he was bound to cause moving forward. And he was failing epically at that so far.
Cared. Loved. Not care, not love, not anything in the present and Loren had accepted that. It was the other man who was having so much trouble with the concept. All the summoner could do was try to minimize the hurt he was bound to cause moving forward. And he was failing epically at that so far.
Will blood tell
