Love mends even the broken parts
After berating Loren for professing to know that he was best suited for anything, it was a bit annoying to hear Remi admit that he himself didn’t know much about the monsters either. The summoner could use fire indirectly, but there wasn’t much he could do about mind games besides hope his history of dealing with illusionists gave him some insight into those. ”So just be ready for anything?” That seemed to be all they could do, the ones who were planning to venture out, or might encounter monsters for other reasons.
Perhaps because they were opening doors. ”Can you all take turns using Amalia’s staff when you go outside? And leave it by the door to the Guild?” That seemed like a prudent precaution, assuming the baker would be willing to part with it temporarily. And since they were going out in small groups or on their own, it might improve their chances against the monsters.
They would never know, that much was true. However, they were both smart enough to make some assumptions. Given how fast Loren’s healing had progressed upon his return, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had done the same if he’d stayed. At the sharp tone in the alchemist’s voice, the Launeleyn looked up, eyes searching the other man’s face. ”I know. I...wasn’t just talking about…” He trailed off, not knowing how to say he wasn’t just talking about LongNight. Still, given that Remi had just given a full speech about how he constantly thought about what might have been when he was around Loren—which made the other man’s words about not dwelling more than a little hypocritical—maybe the summoner didn’t need to say anything.
Scrubbing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, the Launceleyn straightened up, latest bout of sorrow firmly banished. The alchemist probably wasn’t as right or perfect about all this as he claimed to be. However, if he really thought he knew better than the summoner did, then maybe Loren should actually listen to the other man. ”Then what do we have time for?” Precious little, though every little bit might make a difference.
Perhaps because they were opening doors. ”Can you all take turns using Amalia’s staff when you go outside? And leave it by the door to the Guild?” That seemed like a prudent precaution, assuming the baker would be willing to part with it temporarily. And since they were going out in small groups or on their own, it might improve their chances against the monsters.
They would never know, that much was true. However, they were both smart enough to make some assumptions. Given how fast Loren’s healing had progressed upon his return, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had done the same if he’d stayed. At the sharp tone in the alchemist’s voice, the Launeleyn looked up, eyes searching the other man’s face. ”I know. I...wasn’t just talking about…” He trailed off, not knowing how to say he wasn’t just talking about LongNight. Still, given that Remi had just given a full speech about how he constantly thought about what might have been when he was around Loren—which made the other man’s words about not dwelling more than a little hypocritical—maybe the summoner didn’t need to say anything.
Scrubbing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, the Launceleyn straightened up, latest bout of sorrow firmly banished. The alchemist probably wasn’t as right or perfect about all this as he claimed to be. However, if he really thought he knew better than the summoner did, then maybe Loren should actually listen to the other man. ”Then what do we have time for?” Precious little, though every little bit might make a difference.
loren
