The white sheep of the family
Loren’s eyes remained closed, so he didn’t see Remi and Astra fly down to him. However, when he felt the luxere’s fur under his hand, and heard the other man’s voice, the summoner opened them, revealing just how dead they looked. It was how he felt inside, so that wasn't surprising. ”Because it’s true, Remi. Even yours wasn’t unconditional. I know you don’t remember, and have no reason to trust me, but...back in Northaven you refused to be with me. You said it was wrong, because that’s what society taught you.” There was no blame or sorrow in the Launceleyn’s voice; if anything, it came out kindly. ”It wasn’t your fault. And in Caido, we might’ve had a chance. But I went crazy and left before we could find out.” That wasn’t even getting into how the gods had jerked the alchemist around, torn out his heart and his mind and left him incomplete.
At this point the Launceleyn was too tired and helpless to do anything when Remi reached out and took Loren’s wrists. As the other man spoke, the summoner didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t give any indication what he was thinking or feeling. He couldn’t. Because the prison, which had felt so large before, was suddenly too small to contain the two men. It was certainly too small to contain the choice that Remi had just presented, the command the alchemist had just given, the future that the other man offered.
A long moment passed, Loren hesitating on the precipice. Who would have thought that after flying and after being tossed into the pit, this was where he’d truly feel like he was falling. All it would take was a leap of faith. And he'd never been particularly faithful to anyone or anything.
Then a soft sky blue glow started in the summoner’s hands. But it didn’t stop there. It spread across his skin like wildfire, scrubbing clean the marks of his past. But even then it didn’t stop: it spread to Remi, too, seeking out the alchemist’s injuries and scars as well, both inside and out. Whether Loren had lost control of his magic, or if some small secret part of him wanted to give the alchemist a tiny portion of the precious gift that the other man had selflessly handed over to the Launceleyn, who certainly didn’t deserve such kindness, he couldn't say. Of course it couldn’t heal the deepest wounds—Remi’s eyes, his missing memories, his fractured love for his husband—but it did what it could to soothe the alchemist’s mind and body.
And for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Loren’s mind cleared of the darkness, letting him glimpse the light he’d been denying himself. It was beautiful. And he felt silly for not basking in it sooner. Perhaps it was inappropriate, but he smiled, even in the face of the other man's tears, one of those rare, secret smiles that made Loren into a different person entirely. This time, though, it actually felt right on his lips. ”Thank you.” It came out in a breath, and was too little and too short to carry the gratitude he was feeling towards Remi. But it would have to do.
At this point the Launceleyn was too tired and helpless to do anything when Remi reached out and took Loren’s wrists. As the other man spoke, the summoner didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t give any indication what he was thinking or feeling. He couldn’t. Because the prison, which had felt so large before, was suddenly too small to contain the two men. It was certainly too small to contain the choice that Remi had just presented, the command the alchemist had just given, the future that the other man offered.
A long moment passed, Loren hesitating on the precipice. Who would have thought that after flying and after being tossed into the pit, this was where he’d truly feel like he was falling. All it would take was a leap of faith. And he'd never been particularly faithful to anyone or anything.
Then a soft sky blue glow started in the summoner’s hands. But it didn’t stop there. It spread across his skin like wildfire, scrubbing clean the marks of his past. But even then it didn’t stop: it spread to Remi, too, seeking out the alchemist’s injuries and scars as well, both inside and out. Whether Loren had lost control of his magic, or if some small secret part of him wanted to give the alchemist a tiny portion of the precious gift that the other man had selflessly handed over to the Launceleyn, who certainly didn’t deserve such kindness, he couldn't say. Of course it couldn’t heal the deepest wounds—Remi’s eyes, his missing memories, his fractured love for his husband—but it did what it could to soothe the alchemist’s mind and body.
And for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Loren’s mind cleared of the darkness, letting him glimpse the light he’d been denying himself. It was beautiful. And he felt silly for not basking in it sooner. Perhaps it was inappropriate, but he smiled, even in the face of the other man's tears, one of those rare, secret smiles that made Loren into a different person entirely. This time, though, it actually felt right on his lips. ”Thank you.” It came out in a breath, and was too little and too short to carry the gratitude he was feeling towards Remi. But it would have to do.
Will blood tell
