LOREN
After all this time without the two of them crossing paths, Loren had concluded that Peter had gone to live with his mysterious boyfriend that Beatrix had mentioned. However, there was the adopted Launceleyn, creeping into the kitchen as if he was afraid of the summoner’s reaction. Well, there was nothing to fear: Loren just lifted his gaze and stared at the other man, eyes mostly blank. Although the summoner had paused in his bread-making efforts, he resumed kneading before too long. Honestly, he was so empty inside he didn't know how to feel about this development or the other man's presence.
At Peter’s question, the summoner’s eyes flicked down to the dough. ”Bread. And tea.” His voice had a rasp to it, as if he wasn’t used to using it. Perhaps that was because recently, he’d been mostly silent, keeping to himself unless it was absolutely necessary. ”Would you like some? Or I can make you something else.” Not particularly wanting to see the other man’s reaction—Loren was a far cry from the excited and enthusiastic sparring partner Peter had last seen—the summoner mostly kept his eyes on the counter, watching his hands in their methodical pounding and flipping.
However, even though Loren knew he should probably just stay quiet, there was a thought at the very tip of his tongue. ”I haven’t seen you around the Manor recently. Everything alright?” It wasn’t a question (well except for the last part) and it certainly wasn’t an accusation; it was simply an acknowledgement of a fact they both knew. Peter was a grown man and had joined the family by choice. If he wanted to break free of them, that was his prerogative.
Loren, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. He had the Launceleyn blood in his veins and could never escape that fact. And these days, he'd stopped trying.
At Peter’s question, the summoner’s eyes flicked down to the dough. ”Bread. And tea.” His voice had a rasp to it, as if he wasn’t used to using it. Perhaps that was because recently, he’d been mostly silent, keeping to himself unless it was absolutely necessary. ”Would you like some? Or I can make you something else.” Not particularly wanting to see the other man’s reaction—Loren was a far cry from the excited and enthusiastic sparring partner Peter had last seen—the summoner mostly kept his eyes on the counter, watching his hands in their methodical pounding and flipping.
However, even though Loren knew he should probably just stay quiet, there was a thought at the very tip of his tongue. ”I haven’t seen you around the Manor recently. Everything alright?” It wasn’t a question (well except for the last part) and it certainly wasn’t an accusation; it was simply an acknowledgement of a fact they both knew. Peter was a grown man and had joined the family by choice. If he wanted to break free of them, that was his prerogative.
Loren, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. He had the Launceleyn blood in his veins and could never escape that fact. And these days, he'd stopped trying.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
