PETER
The new slices of bread were met with a thin smile, the most Peter could manage before he scarfed them down as well. It was one habit, of many, that had been borne out of need, desperation, and that he likely didn't need anymore, but... he could never turn down food, not when he didn't know where it would come from next. The last slice gave him a little trouble, but also a chance to consider his words again, this question a fair bit easier to answer.What hadn't changed? He'd come to a whole new world, one that was green, and where it snowed. Where people were... kind, in ways he had never imagined. He'd gotten away from all of his old life. "I'm... here now. Right? There's no... no war, or Fink, or Ale-" Peter cut the last name off suddenly, clamping his lips into a thin line. It was like his mind just shut down, everything going still, tight, before he drew in a sharp breath through his nose and looked up at Loren guiltily, blinking rapidly like it would clear away whatever he was seeing, like it would clear away the glassy sheen of almost tears. "Lot changed."
As soon as he was able, Peter pulled his hand back, holding it in his other and squeezing it, as if trying to mimic how the other Launceleyn had held it. Like it would bring some comfort. He was very rapidly losing track of what exactly he was trying to do, to say. And he'd put so much thought into it to start, he'd had points and questions and wonders, and now he was left with the end of a string that led nowhere, hopelessly lost in his own narrative. He didn't know what he wanted to do, not really. He didn't even really know what he didn't want to do. Loren was gentle with his answer, with is assurance, and the small gesture meant the world to Peter. It coaxed his eyes back up to the other mans face, a quiet, desperate hope hiding in them.
Peter was more than happy to move if it meant he'd get some answers, and followed close on Lorens heels, afraid he'd lose him in the vast emptiness of the manor. The library was not a place he came to often, he knew how to read, in theory, but had never found much joy in it, never had the spare time for it. It was more comfortable than the kitchen though, and he settled into an overstuffed chair, not minding the dust on it. He curled up, knees to his chest, and watched the summoner, listening raptly to the beginning of his story explanation. It all sounded grand, more important than something he should be a part of, though he didn't quite understand the idea of the oath. There were simpler ways to enforce obedience. He didn't ask about it though, another question too pressing to not be asked, even though he knew the answer was coming. "Funny... how?"
And oh, don’t you wanna love?
And don’t you wanna feel?
I remember, you were reckless, you were hungry
You were real
And don’t you wanna feel?
I remember, you were reckless, you were hungry
You were real
