LOREN
Rexanna’s knock and voice echoed within the Manor. However, for a long moment, nothing and no one would answer her: despite all the people living there, there was a strange hush over the place. It felt almost as if it was the den of some great beast rather than the home of many people.
Well, maybe that’s because it was, in a way.
She’d understand soon enough, because before too long Loren stalked from deep within the house. It had been a long time since the wedding, or at least it felt like that. And the blue-eyed woman might be surprised by the changes in the summoner. He’d lost all the weight he’d put on, but instead of looking gaunt, he looked lean, and hard, all sharp edges and ripcord muscle. To accentuate that, he was dressed in tight black clothing and form-fitting boots, which clung to him like a second skin. His hair had been cropped almost painfully short, and his beard was nonexistent, the closest of shaves letting his cheekbones stand out more than usual. On top of that, frown lines had appeared where smile lines had once been. But none of that was the starkest contrast from the shy and kind librarian he’d been not so long ago.
No, the biggest change was his eyes. Their blue, which had once been warm and inviting, was now an icy pool that didn’t let any light out and seemed to pierce everything they touched upon. There was a wildness to him as well, and while his steps thudded soundlessly on the carpeted floor, there was a predatory edge to them.
He stopped a decent distance away from her and crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby wall. ”Rexanna. What brings you here?” His voice was as cold as his eyes. However, given that she’d just gotten married, and was probably lost in newlywed bliss, she’d be spared the worst of his ire. For now. Because, despite her no doubt valid excuse, she could’ve found some time to speak to him—sent him a note even—which meant she wasn’t entirely blameless in the isolation that had finally closed in and made him snap. So his patience wouldn’t last long. Presumably she was here for a reason, and hopefully for both their sakes it wouldn’t be something that would send him back over the edge that he was teetering over.
Well, maybe that’s because it was, in a way.
She’d understand soon enough, because before too long Loren stalked from deep within the house. It had been a long time since the wedding, or at least it felt like that. And the blue-eyed woman might be surprised by the changes in the summoner. He’d lost all the weight he’d put on, but instead of looking gaunt, he looked lean, and hard, all sharp edges and ripcord muscle. To accentuate that, he was dressed in tight black clothing and form-fitting boots, which clung to him like a second skin. His hair had been cropped almost painfully short, and his beard was nonexistent, the closest of shaves letting his cheekbones stand out more than usual. On top of that, frown lines had appeared where smile lines had once been. But none of that was the starkest contrast from the shy and kind librarian he’d been not so long ago.
No, the biggest change was his eyes. Their blue, which had once been warm and inviting, was now an icy pool that didn’t let any light out and seemed to pierce everything they touched upon. There was a wildness to him as well, and while his steps thudded soundlessly on the carpeted floor, there was a predatory edge to them.
He stopped a decent distance away from her and crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby wall. ”Rexanna. What brings you here?” His voice was as cold as his eyes. However, given that she’d just gotten married, and was probably lost in newlywed bliss, she’d be spared the worst of his ire. For now. Because, despite her no doubt valid excuse, she could’ve found some time to speak to him—sent him a note even—which meant she wasn’t entirely blameless in the isolation that had finally closed in and made him snap. So his patience wouldn’t last long. Presumably she was here for a reason, and hopefully for both their sakes it wouldn’t be something that would send him back over the edge that he was teetering over.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
