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the Firebrand
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#1
Mature Content Warning 
there's light at the edge of the darkness
The Launceleyn wasn’t sure exactly what brought him back out here to the shrine by the oasis. Maybe it was the fact that try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about the orgasm he’d had out here (not that he was eager to repeat it, but it had been quite an experience). Maybe it was because he’d completed the task the gods had set for him, and while he was pretty sure they already knew, he wanted to inform him that he’d done as they commanded.

Or maybe it was because, if there was anyone in need of advice from the god of love, it was Loren, given what a mess he’d made of all his relationships.

But after his previous encounter, on the off chance Frey actually did answer, he didn’t want to risk anyone else getting caught up in it. So, cold as it was out here, he felt it was better for him to be alone for this, far away from other people. Besides, he didn’t know who’d he’d ask to accompany him, given how he didn’t have any friends he was close enough to ask for assistance with something like this. Or any friends at all really. Plus, even if he had, 'come pray to the god of sex and love' wasn't an invitation he felt comfortable issuing.

Well, his friendships or lack thereof was yet another thing that might require divine intervention. Of course, the summoner didn’t know if he wanted to be friends with anyone Frey suggested. Then again, it wasn’t like he was doing great on that front either. Maybe it would be best to surrender himself to someone who at least knew what their purpose was in life.

His thoughts keep going around and around in dark circles, so it was a relief to see the familiar ring of stones. As always, he’d brought milk and honey; though he’d searched for a peach, remembering how the deity had bit into one in their last encounter, it proved impossible in the heart of Deepfrost. So hopefully the meager offering would be enough.

Loren wasn’t just talking about the gifts he’d brought.

Kneeling in the snow, he placed the bowl and the jar before him, and bowed his head. ”Frey. Thank you for your benevolence when I saw you last. I came out to tell you that I completed the task that you and Vi and Rae entrusted to me, and that the blight seems to be receding. Thank you for that blessing.” Hesitating, the Launceleyn closed his eyes. When he next spoke, it came out in a sorrowful whisper. ”And though I have no right to ask this I beg for you help in...in mending a broken heart.” He didn’t know if he was asking on his own behalf, or Remi’s or Ronin’s. But he was asking.
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#2


If such a thing existed, a roll of tape might have been thrown squarely at the Launceleyn's genitals. Since it didn't, nothing happened.


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#3
"Benevolence, hmm?" The chill in the air seemed not to effect the god at all as they suddenly appeared before the Launceleyn, kneeling in the snow as well. However unlike the pious position the summoner was slouched in, the deity was prone as if ready to receive a massage. Reaching towards the bowl of milk and honey, the god added a finger to it as if testing tepid waters. Without adornments or clothing as they were wont to do, Frey gave Loren a reproachful look for just a moment before raising a finger possessing a singular milky-white droplet. As it fell onto the snow the harsh climate faded away and both the Launceleyn and the deity would find themselves on their backs, naked, in a room-temperature concoction not unlike that the summoner brought with him. The world was an expanse of whitish liquid that gently crested over their thighs as they each bobbed in this strange sea.

Appearing with the physical features—if not heightened beyond mortal standards—that the Launceleyn lusted after the most, Frey stretched their arms above their heads, basking in the milky decadence. "Love is a gift from Mort, snowflake." They said, shooting a lazy look towards the summoner. "Hearts breaking is part of the deal."
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the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
ASTRA - Mythical - Luxere
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#4
there's light at the edge of the darkness
For a moment there, Loren had been entirely convinced that Frey would ignore the Abandoned’s call. It wouldn’t be that surprising: the gods didn’t exactly love his kind and they’d only answered him once before.

However, maybe the Launceleyn needed to have a little more faith. Because there was Frey, in all their divine glory. Last time they’d looked a little like Remi, but today that resemblance had faded, to be replaced by someone more generically and less overwhelmingly attractive. What that meant, he couldn't say, but it was a small blessing. As with last time, the deity was beautiful, but unlike before the summoner, while filled with lust, wasn’t overtaken with waves of desire, and could even think almost fully conscious thoughts.

That didn’t stop him from holding his breath as Frey spoke, then dipped a finger in the milk and let a single drop fall to the ground.

Which was instantly transformed into a wave of white. Not snow, but something else entirely, some liquid that caressed Loren’s suddenly naked body. He floated in a sort of languid bliss. While Frey might be disappointed in the offering the Abandoned brought, the Launceleyn was perfectly content to float here, in this incredible sea the deity had called into being. However, Frey was speaking again, and the summoner sighed, the sound traveling through his whole body. ”What do you mean, it’s a gift from Mort?” All the Launceleyn knew was that Mort was the god of death, and it seemed that love was a far cry from the end of life. Heartbreak, the end of love, seemed like it should be in Mort's domain, not love itself.

The nickname was an odd one, both because snowflake wasn’t exactly a term of endearment and because Loren wasn’t exactly used to anyone calling him pet names. ”Well, that’s a shitty deal, then.” Perhaps it was unwise to unleash the anger he’d been carrying around with him for so long on a divine being, but there was no one else who would ever listen to him.

Besides, if a god of love couldn’t understand, no one would.
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#5
The god yawned, relaxing coursing through their entire body and in turn, so too would the Launceleyn's relax. "Your little friend Phoebe knows all about it. You should ask her." Frey replied with a lazy shrug. They'd already given this little history lesson once. "The moral of the story, as they say, is that love is an answer to a question you don't full understand. The directions to a destination that you just can't quite get to." Raising a hand from the milky depths, the god let a number of droplets fall onto their sternum and where it did the scent of lavender and fire smoke seemed to billow into the air. "That's why you all call it heart break when you fuck it up. You're trying to shove together pieces to make a picture, only you don't have the box so you don't know what it's meant to look like. You try, and some of you come close, but it is only in death that all is revealed." All of this was said with a bit of a scowl on Frey's part.

Instead of being angry, Frey merely snorted. "You mortals and your constant whining. You've got legs that move, and sometimes the bones in them break. You think we should have just made you great big spheres instead, to save you from that pain? Shall we remove your heads too to save you from the occasional headache?"
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the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#6
there's light at the edge of the darkness
Well, Frey was certainly chatty. Loren hadn’t been expecting that nor did he really know what to do about it. As a strange calm stole over him, he decided not to worry so much, though. If the deity wanted to talk and nothing more, well, that was more than he’d expected and probably more than he deserved. ”I don’t know if she’s my friend. But I will. Thanks.” As the god’s fingers dripped and a lovely smell wafted through the area, the summoner breathed deeply. Literally no one he knew would say something like Frey had just said, but he figured calling out a god would be one of his stupider decisions, which was saying a lot. Instead, he just enjoyed the presence of a being he knew was far above him and yet was somehow willing to deign to talk to him.

However, if the Launceleyn was understanding the god correctly, love wasn’t something he, or anyone could attain. And he knew that was wrong, despite his own ability to love and be loved. Sitll, he wasn't going to argue with Frey. Well. Not much, at least. ”Sometimes the pieces are too small to put back together again. Aren’t they? And does it do them any good, knowing the answer to that question after they’ve moved on?” Loren glanced over at Frey, wishing he had some sense of what the deity wanted from him. Because surely they weren't here for his less than stellar conversational skills and not at all witty banter.

As the god snorted and talked about how whiney mortals were, the Launceleyn couldn’t help the pang of sadness that managed to break through even Frey’s aura. This was a fucking familiar lecture if he’d ever heard it. ”If you’re trying to say that the pain will make me stronger, or make me appreciate what I already have, save it. I heard that one a few too many times growing up.” It hadn’t worked then and it wouldn’t work now. And the summoner could heal broken bones.

There was nothing he could do about the hearts he’d shattered, including his own.
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#7
"It will one day. That's the beauty of it, or so Mort would say. All these brief bursts of pleasure and happiness. You know what it is once you lose it, and in death? You get the whole thing. If I don't sound entirely convinced, it's because I'm not. Mort added this after Rae and I came along, so." With a wave of their arms in the water, Frey and the Launceleyn were not propelled through the milky sea, but instead moved as if through the clouds. No longer suspended in water, but in air, the pair glided just as easily.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." The god chided, letting the summoner drop down a few feet or so out of the air. Whether as a punishment or simply for a better view of Frey's ass, it was hard to tell. It was a cup half empty, half full sort of deal probably. "I don't care at all about what you appreciate. As for making you stronger? You humans have taken just about every biological advantage we've given you and just fucked them over. Survival of the fittest only applies when you're surviving against nature, not against all the drama and bullshit you lot come up with."
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the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
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#8
there's light at the edge of the darkness
”Some of us have lost a lot already.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. No doubt Frey would just think Loren was whining again. Well, he was. But what was prayer if not specialized bitching and moaning? Absolve me of my sins. Deliver me from evil. Save me. Then he was distracted by the shift from liquid to air, and he gasped as he floated through the clouds. However, he caught the rest of what the god was saying. ”So you’re the oldest, then? Or one of the oldest?” Once again, he was reminded of how little he knew about the higher powers of Caido. However, the thought of seniority among them and how that might make them feel was funny to consider. The Launceleyn came from a big family, but was the younger and lesser of twins, so he knew a lot about complicated family dynamics. Not that he was suggesting the gods were anything like his kin.

Actually, he really fucking hoped not, because that was a terrifying thought if he’d ever had one.

The sudden drop was unexpected, though given the nice view he got he couldn’t exactly complain. Well, maybe he could. ”Cot, actually.” Beds were usually too comfortable for his tastes. Still, it was hard to argue with Frey’s commentary on how people squandered the gifts the gods gave them. However, not all of the tragedy was from natural or mortal causes: some of it could be squarely laid at the feet of supernatural causes. Like the blight. ”So what do you want us to do with our biological advantages then?” That seemed like a much better thing to say than another whiney statement.
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#9
"Hah, you don't know the meaning of the word. And before you go on about whatever other life you had, save it or I'll show you the real meaning of loss." Frey snarked, waiving a dismissive hand. This ride was going to come to a right quick end with Loren falling out of the sky if he wasn't careful.

"Caido is the oldest. Then Mort, Vi, and Rae. Read a fucking book, would you?" This was like Caido-history 101. And while Loren might be forgiven his ignorance given he was an Outlander, asking these sorts of questions of Frey was like asking a master botanist how to spell rose.

"Want? What I want doesn't matter. You're meant to flourish as a species. What I want for you individually hardly is relevant. I want you to live out your little hedonistic lives with as little pain as possible." With, of course, about a million caveats to that. "As for your broken heart, here are your choices: time, sex, or distance. Time doesn't heal all like your kind is so fond of saying, but it does put things in perspective. Sex, because honestly, the chemicals that make you think you're in love aren't too terrible different from a right good fucking, so there's that. And finally, distance. Remove the ability for love all together."

None of those options sounded amazing, which was precisely the point, hence why Mort had allowed hearts to break in the first place and why Rae hadn't bothered stopping it.
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the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
ASTRA - Mythical - Luxere
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#10
there's light at the edge of the darkness
Well, that threat was pretty clear, so Loren shut the fuck up, lest Frey drop him completely and not just let him hang in the air a little below the god, or smite him in some other horrible manner. Similarly, he remained silent when the deity admonished the summoner to read a book. And he stayed quiet for most of the divine being’s explanation about the nature of love and the world. Still, he couldn’t hold his tongue forever. ”Why do you say what you want doesn’t matter?” It was an echo of something the Launceleyn had said, many, many times. And he’d almost made himself believe it too.

Almost, but not quite. So he couldn’t believe that the god of love’s desires didn’t matter either. And if the deity actually felt that way, well, the remnants of Loren's heart reached out to the divine being, for what little they were worth.

As Frey outlined the three options before the summoner he responded without hesitation. ”Not distance. That’s not a choice.” At least it wasn’t something he’d choose willingly: even now, bereft as he was, he didn’t want to even consider what might happen if he lost his capacity for love, to care for others. Just because he was bad at it didn’t mean he wanted to get rid of it. And it sounded too similar to what his family members tended to become for him to ever be comfortable with it. Besides, he'd tried to put distance between himself and he'd failed horribly at it. Now that he paired those two thoughts, he realized how horribly he'd been acting and his breath caught in his throat.

As for time or sex, well, he might not survive LongNight and the closest he’d come to sex in over a year was when Frey had made him cum harder than he’d ever cum before, and he didn’t know if that counted. So those were better, but not great.
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#11
"Because I'm not mortal and haven't spent my life telling myself and being told that life should work out a certain way, or with notions of fairness and equity and all that. I'm a god, snowflake. What I do and how I am isn't based on what I want. I have a job to do, and I do it. But I'm also fulfilled in different ways. " Frey replied with a languid shrug as their mid-air glide slowly began to descend. It would be hard for Loren to tell that anything was happening really, save for some instinctual part of his mind perhaps grasping the near imperceptible change in altitude. It wasn't like any of this was properly real, anyways.

"You could just forget, too. That seems to be a common one going around. Or, I could just snap my fingers and the pain would just be gone."
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the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
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#12
there's light at the edge of the darkness
Well, that was a line if Loren ever heard one. Even the completely unflirty Launceleyn couldn’t let this opportunity go. ”Oh? Is that so? And just what fulfills you then, hm?” He was more curious than amorous, not that he’d pass up the opportunity to have another orgasm like the one Frey had given him last time.

At the thought that the divine being might actually take his memories or pain away, the summoner panicked (though it might’ve been the descent that he wasn’t only subconsciously aware of as well). As always, though, fear clarified his mind instead of sending his thoughts into a spiral. ”You could. But weren't you against turning me into a sphere earlier?” There was nothing Loren could do to stop Frey, he knew that, besides hope.

Or well, maybe prayer would be more effective here. Too bad he sucked at it.
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#13
"You wouldn't understand." Most might expect the god to say that it was pleasure, in some form or another, but it was so much more than that. It was the complexity of life and the feel-good parts of it that made the system as a whole work. It was every embrace, every new flower blossom, every adrenaline-high after escaping a predator. Safrin made the stars twinkle (or something), Ludo made the shadows..dark? and Frey? Frey made all the good things feel good. Maybe it wasn't so much that the god wasn't worried about what they did or didn't want, so much as the comparison didn't make sense. Frey was what they wanted. At their core, their purpose was what they wanted.

"Yeah, but here you are still whining about it. There isn't a cure for a broken heart, just a bunch of band aids."
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the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
ASTRA - Mythical - Luxere
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#14
there's light at the edge of the darkness
This back-and-forth wasn’t what the Launceleyn expected. It wasn’t even what he wanted. And if definitely wasn’t what he needed. That wasn’t a complaint, just an observation. But the summoner was getting a bit sick and tired of being condescended to, even if it was coming from a higher power who had every right to do so and was probably right to do so in this case. He was certainly tired of the way in which his life had stood still for so long. And, while he would still probably put others before himself more often than not—he couldn’t change the core of who he was, no matter how hard he tried—he had done that for long enough. Time for a change.

After all, helping people didn’t mean he couldn’t make time for himself. He should. He absolutely should. He’d come to a new land and done...nothing. Just dithered about and gone crazy. A land of possibility and opportunity and he’d squandered it all. A whole new world and he’d been clinging to his old self, his old life. Staying in place, moving backwards, instead of running towards the future.

Enough was enough, and if he didn’t think he was enough yet, well, everyone and everthing kept fucking telling him he could be, someday. So it was about time he proved them right. The only thing that had been stopping him was fear, really. Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of hurting those he loved. However, for some reason he couldn't quite articulate, he wasn’t running towards this danger—which is how he usually reacted to threats—he was running away and hiding. But that wasn’t like him. His instinct was to fight, not to take flight (current situation notwithstanding).

Time to fight for what he wanted, and knew he could have.

Of course, he didn’t have someone to love, at least not in the way he’d loved Remi. And it was loved, because if his interactions with the alchemist since the summoner’s return had taught him anything, it was that he’d been in love with the memory and the idea of the other man, not the living, breathing reality of Remi that the Launceleyn had reintroduced himself to. But there were other types of love, other kinds of desire. Family, both chosen and blood: he had Beatrix, and Jace, and Peter, and Astra, and everyone else he’d invited into his home, Aonghas, Renaud, Abasi. They needed him and he wanted and needed them. Love of country and home: while the Hollowed Grounds barely felt like home, they were, and he would protect those within it to the best of his abilities, and not beat himself up when he failed. Or at least, not too badly.

And there were always his dreams, the ones he kept locked away because they so often turned into nightmares. But usually they failed because of his tendency to self-sabotage, not from any outside force. He still had them, though, even if he kept them to himself. His school, the one that he thought might change the way people perceived him and his family, the one he could use to share all the knowledge he’d gathered over his admittedly short life, and learn from others in turn. The one he hoped, prayed even, would bring people together. Making friends, and keeping them, because the only impediment to his friendships was his unfortunate habit of pushing people away when they were only trying to help because he thought he was unworthy or some stupid bullshit like that. Exploring this world and everything it had to offer, finding out about its birds and its trees and its beasts and its flowers.

Maybe even finding love again, when he was ready.

When he spoke, there wasn’t a trace of a whine in his voice; instead, it was filled with a deep conviction and a kind of awed reverence. He reached deep down into the core of his being, and drew upon the stubborn center that refused to give up even when all seemed lost, that kept him going when others might have given up, that prevented him from ever backing down from a fight so long as it was just, that allowed him to sacrifice when it was necessary. That was him. His soul, his heart, his mind, his body. ”Then I will slap them on and move on.”

Move on.

He liked the way that sounded, how that tasted, how that looked on him, how that felt to him. If was past time he did it, and he was ready. Eager. Willing. The future was waiting. And he couldn’t wait for it to find him any longer.
loren


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