LOREN
It seemed that Abasi was mostly better. At least that much had gone right: as everything else was falling apart around the Launceleyn, he had the comfort of knowing that one person’s life had been improved by the summoner’s actions. It probably wouldn’t be enough, but it was something. ”Well, I think we all struggle to think clearly sometimes. However, I am glad to hear the worst of it has passed.” Gods, let that be true.
Loren took a sip as the other man continued speaking, though the Launceleyn shook his head as the tea ran down his throat. ”You were fine. Trust me, you did not offend me in the slightest.” Abasi hadn’t done or said anything worse than the summoner had told himself time and time again; besides, most of Loren’s recent strife came from someone much closer to the Launceleyn than the other man was.
However, when Abasi started using unfamiliar words, the summoner’s eyes narrowed, and he set his tea aside for a moment. ”Heka? Pharoah?” Loren hoped he was saying those words right, but the foreign syllables felt heavy and tangled on his tongue. ”Are those words from your world?” It was always dangerous to ask a question like that—both because it worsened the feelings of homesickness most Outlanders felt and because sometimes the worlds others came from were so alien it baffled the mind—but seeing as the other man had brought it up first, the Launceleyn figured it was fair for him to ask.
The next words out of Abasi’s mouth caught Loren completely off guard. He frowned, and picked up his mug, staring at the dark liquid within as if it was a scrying bowl, as the legends spoke of. Or maybe he was trying to gaze at the tea leaves, which were also purported to have prophetic qualities. Unfortunately, the tea held no answers, no more than his mind did. ”Probably. I’ve been told that I’m quite, quite difficult.” It hurt to say those words, because Remi and Ronin, and all those who’d once cared for the Launceleyn had been the ones to tell the summoner that. ”I don’t know, really. Once upon a time I would’ve said friendship. Family. Companionship. Love. Things that no amount of magic or the biggest house in the world can provide.” But all those were beyond Loren now. And saying that he liked to read in what little spare time he had seemed like far too small and petty a response.
Loren took a sip as the other man continued speaking, though the Launceleyn shook his head as the tea ran down his throat. ”You were fine. Trust me, you did not offend me in the slightest.” Abasi hadn’t done or said anything worse than the summoner had told himself time and time again; besides, most of Loren’s recent strife came from someone much closer to the Launceleyn than the other man was.
However, when Abasi started using unfamiliar words, the summoner’s eyes narrowed, and he set his tea aside for a moment. ”Heka? Pharoah?” Loren hoped he was saying those words right, but the foreign syllables felt heavy and tangled on his tongue. ”Are those words from your world?” It was always dangerous to ask a question like that—both because it worsened the feelings of homesickness most Outlanders felt and because sometimes the worlds others came from were so alien it baffled the mind—but seeing as the other man had brought it up first, the Launceleyn figured it was fair for him to ask.
The next words out of Abasi’s mouth caught Loren completely off guard. He frowned, and picked up his mug, staring at the dark liquid within as if it was a scrying bowl, as the legends spoke of. Or maybe he was trying to gaze at the tea leaves, which were also purported to have prophetic qualities. Unfortunately, the tea held no answers, no more than his mind did. ”Probably. I’ve been told that I’m quite, quite difficult.” It hurt to say those words, because Remi and Ronin, and all those who’d once cared for the Launceleyn had been the ones to tell the summoner that. ”I don’t know, really. Once upon a time I would’ve said friendship. Family. Companionship. Love. Things that no amount of magic or the biggest house in the world can provide.” But all those were beyond Loren now. And saying that he liked to read in what little spare time he had seemed like far too small and petty a response.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
