LOREN
As always, Loren had gotten up earlier than everyone else in the Manor. He slept on a cot in the kitchen so that he could stoke the hearth fires and get food ready for the rest of the household. Of course, no one actually joined him for breakfast, but he left it out on the off chance anyone swung by during the day looking for a bite to eat. These days, however, he was feeling empty inside, devoid of all emotion. That didn’t stop him from getting out of bed in the morning. It just meant he was going through the motions and doing it out of obligation rather than an actual hope people might appreciate his efforts.
It also meant he looked like a ghost and a shadow as he walked down the hall to the nearest washroom to splash some water on his face and shave. He nicked himself a few times, but the barest effort of healing magic closed the small cuts, and he ignored the pain, since it couldn’t compare to the void where his heart used to be. He rubbed off the blood, then shuffled back into the kitchen.
Quickly, he changed into fresh clothes behind the screen he’d set up to hide his cot and belongings: they were thick brown wool, completely serviceable and utterly unflattering, especially given how they hung off his gaunt frame. He pulled on socks and boots, then walked out into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. That done, he took out some flour and started kneading it, losing himself in the familiar motions. Astra poked a bleary head out from behind the screen, then gave a tired grunt and trotted over to his side to lean against him. However, even that wasn’t enough to get a smile out of him, and the luxere gave him a worried look.
He pointedly ignored it.
Peter
It also meant he looked like a ghost and a shadow as he walked down the hall to the nearest washroom to splash some water on his face and shave. He nicked himself a few times, but the barest effort of healing magic closed the small cuts, and he ignored the pain, since it couldn’t compare to the void where his heart used to be. He rubbed off the blood, then shuffled back into the kitchen.
Quickly, he changed into fresh clothes behind the screen he’d set up to hide his cot and belongings: they were thick brown wool, completely serviceable and utterly unflattering, especially given how they hung off his gaunt frame. He pulled on socks and boots, then walked out into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. That done, he took out some flour and started kneading it, losing himself in the familiar motions. Astra poked a bleary head out from behind the screen, then gave a tired grunt and trotted over to his side to lean against him. However, even that wasn’t enough to get a smile out of him, and the luxere gave him a worried look.
He pointedly ignored it.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
