The white sheep of the family
Loren's voice was the barest whisper. ”I’ve felt it.” Or at least Loren had thought he’d felt it. For Remi. For Ronin. For his family, screwed up as they were. But the things it had made the summoner do were not clear, and certainly not easy. He’d mostly driven people away, afraid that his fundamental wrongness would drag them down with him when he finally fell from his precarious perch on sanity and goodness.
At Remi’s obvious fear that more of his memories, his mind, his self might be stolen away by a vengeful and unforgiving god, the Launceleyn felt his resolve to find some way to restore what had been unfairly taken from the alchemist redouble. It seemed that the summoner would have to seek out Ludo. That was one god he hadn’t encountered yet, except in a brief glimpse; this time, Loren would find out everything he could before praying. Fool him once and all that.
That could wait. For now, though, the Launceleyn would promise the other man the sun, the moon, and the stars if he’d asked. A promise to give a reminder that probably wouldn’t be necessary was easy. ”I promise.” Even now, though, Loren didn’t think his promise was worth much. But there were other ways of remembering the past. He’d been a librarian once upon a time, so he knew them all.
What could only be described as a tablet appeared in the summoner’s hand, the one not hovering over Remi’s scar. It had a simple message carved into it in a blocky text: ‘Loren healed the scar Remi received when he almost killed a man.’ It was probably overkill, but the Launcelyn held his healing in one hand and the tangible memory in the other, looking at the alchemist with hope in Loren’s eyes.
This too, would have to be enough.
At Remi’s obvious fear that more of his memories, his mind, his self might be stolen away by a vengeful and unforgiving god, the Launceleyn felt his resolve to find some way to restore what had been unfairly taken from the alchemist redouble. It seemed that the summoner would have to seek out Ludo. That was one god he hadn’t encountered yet, except in a brief glimpse; this time, Loren would find out everything he could before praying. Fool him once and all that.
That could wait. For now, though, the Launceleyn would promise the other man the sun, the moon, and the stars if he’d asked. A promise to give a reminder that probably wouldn’t be necessary was easy. ”I promise.” Even now, though, Loren didn’t think his promise was worth much. But there were other ways of remembering the past. He’d been a librarian once upon a time, so he knew them all.
What could only be described as a tablet appeared in the summoner’s hand, the one not hovering over Remi’s scar. It had a simple message carved into it in a blocky text: ‘Loren healed the scar Remi received when he almost killed a man.’ It was probably overkill, but the Launcelyn held his healing in one hand and the tangible memory in the other, looking at the alchemist with hope in Loren’s eyes.
This too, would have to be enough.
Will blood tell
