LOREN
Amalia kept moving, dodging away from Loren’s wolves, shifting into another form to get far away from them and him. He couldn’t blame her: he’d seen the flash of blood from where summoned creature bit her. He froze, instantly dismissing all his spells and just laying on the floor. Every single time he trained with someone, he forgot. He forgot that he was ruthless in battle, and that eventually, before too long, he would hurt someone, even if it was just a sparring match. It was just a fact that the Launceleyns had honed him into a weapon, and in battle he reacted to everything far too seriously. Even though he could heal the damage, that didn’t make the pain he inflicted any less. It made it worse, even, made him think he could wash away the damage he did.
He couldn’t. He’d never been able to, and never would be able to. Time to accept that he just hurt people. Again.
So as the baker shifted into a leopard once more and placed her paw upon his chest he remained there, unmoving, eyes haunted. However, that didn’t stop him from sending his healing magic up through Amalia’s paw—a sky blue glow emanating from his chest and then passing through her body—healing every wound he’d inflicted upon her, and every scar and injury she’d gotten from a mundane source.
For once he was tired of fighting. Tired of fighting himself, his true nature, other people, the world. He’d put himself through every wringer imaginable, and his energy had finally run out.
He couldn’t. He’d never been able to, and never would be able to. Time to accept that he just hurt people. Again.
So as the baker shifted into a leopard once more and placed her paw upon his chest he remained there, unmoving, eyes haunted. However, that didn’t stop him from sending his healing magic up through Amalia’s paw—a sky blue glow emanating from his chest and then passing through her body—healing every wound he’d inflicted upon her, and every scar and injury she’d gotten from a mundane source.
For once he was tired of fighting. Tired of fighting himself, his true nature, other people, the world. He’d put himself through every wringer imaginable, and his energy had finally run out.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
