It was a sign of how sick he still was that he didn't notice the footsteps approaching from behind. The bard pressed cold moss into the cracks of the window sill with shaking fingers, lost in his thoughts and letting the repetitive task dull the bite of the blight still in his blood. It dulled his other senses as well, however, and Loren's voice came as a surprise. There was enough traffic and bustle in the Infirmary behind him that it didn't scare him, but he couldn't entirely keep the flinch from his shoulder blades as he was called out by name.
He finished securing the fluffy moss he was in the middle of stuffing a crack with before he turned, using the time to steady himself and bring a smile to his face, even if it was just an act. It wasn't Loren's fault, but the blight made it hard to push through to happier emotions and so the mask had become the norm rather than the exception, ever since Leafchange had changed more than just the leaves.
"Hello Loren," he greeted with a nod, taking in how weary and worn the mage looked with a flicker of concern in black-blue eyes. Amalia and Rory had looked much the same, and he knew he looked no better, though his appreciation for what he had regained offset many of the ravages the blight had worked on him. "Thank you for helping with the perch." He hesitated, remembering how little the Launceleyn had known of Long Night traditions the last time they had talked... which felt like a lifetime ago. "I'm packing the windows with snow moss for Long Night. Did you have a chance to read up on it?" No point being pedantic if it was a tradition Loren already knew of.
Given the other man's exhaustion and flat voice, he hoped that was all it was - simple curiosity wrapped in a shell of weariness. If Loren wanted to pick a fight in the middle of the Infirmary... Taunting a blighted man was a great way to get one.
He finished securing the fluffy moss he was in the middle of stuffing a crack with before he turned, using the time to steady himself and bring a smile to his face, even if it was just an act. It wasn't Loren's fault, but the blight made it hard to push through to happier emotions and so the mask had become the norm rather than the exception, ever since Leafchange had changed more than just the leaves.
"Hello Loren," he greeted with a nod, taking in how weary and worn the mage looked with a flicker of concern in black-blue eyes. Amalia and Rory had looked much the same, and he knew he looked no better, though his appreciation for what he had regained offset many of the ravages the blight had worked on him. "Thank you for helping with the perch." He hesitated, remembering how little the Launceleyn had known of Long Night traditions the last time they had talked... which felt like a lifetime ago. "I'm packing the windows with snow moss for Long Night. Did you have a chance to read up on it?" No point being pedantic if it was a tradition Loren already knew of.
Given the other man's exhaustion and flat voice, he hoped that was all it was - simple curiosity wrapped in a shell of weariness. If Loren wanted to pick a fight in the middle of the Infirmary... Taunting a blighted man was a great way to get one.
