impossible reasons

The baker could be as bewildered as she wanted: the summoner had certainly moved on, and if they didn’t like the way it looked, that was their problem, not his. Still, at least she was listening to him. Loren hadn’t really expected Amalia to agree with him. Most people just objected to his comments, or brushed him off as insane or cruel. However, he wasn’t going to go easy on her just because he’d gotten her to come around to her point of view. ”How have we succeeded then?” Indeed, he was quite eager to know. While she might have her own accomplishments, the Launceleyn knew his own legacy was nothing but pain. At least he was causing it on purpose these days. When Amalia finally rose to her feet and grew angry enough to argue back with him, he grinned. Good. This should at least be interesting. ”I never said you hated me. I just asked what you hated about me.” His voice came out teasingly. It seemed maybe he’d hit even closer to home than he’d been intending. ”Probably. But again, you said it, not me.” Indeed, it seemed that the baker had read more into his words than even he’d intended. Maybe the baker should be a little more careful—not that this was her fault, since he was the one pressing the attack—in how she responded to him. This time, he wasn’t going to back off if she got hurt or upset. The truth of the matter was, they were strangers, and not friends, and he barely knew anything about her. That meant the damage he should be able to inflict was minimal. Of course, if she was already fragile (which seemed likely) he might just be the straw that broke the leopardess’ back. LOREN Not quite an open book

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

"How have you succeeded?" Amalia asks, wondering if that is really what he's looking for and unwilling to look too closely just now at her own collection of abject failures. The baker shrugs, reaching out to pet one of the few remaining luxere in an attempt to calm her nerves. "I don't know you very well. But you came back from wherever you were and threw yourself into helping to make amends for a sin you didn't commit. Like a bull in a china shop, but it's more than most people do." More than me.

Looking up at Loren again, she tilts her head. "You've shared your magic. You helped me with the Prince. You went and learned - actually learned - and unlike the last person I told to do that, didn't come back and announce you were going to attempt to murder an entire race for gods she cannot understand." Exasperation and irritation leaks into her tone as she thinks about Roana, a whole other mess that Amalia has made. "I'm not saying you haven't messed up, or you're not irritating and self-centered and kind of insufferable sometimes. Maybe you are a monster, I don't know. It isn't for me to say." Which, perhaps, not strictly true- Amalia makes judgments with the ease of the righteous, but somehow she very seriously doubts that Loren values her opinion on anything.

If she's relatively composed as she tries to list his strengths, that all fades away as he begins assaulting her flaws. Standing, scowling, Amalia glares at the man who she is fairly convinced would tumble to the ground at the slightest suggestion of a stiff breeze. "Okay. I hate this," the Shield snaps, waving her arm to indicate the space between them. "This stupid fucking game you're playing. Where you say mean things and try to get me to say them back- for what? What are you getting out of this, Loren? Is it because if the world hates you it will make it easier for you to hate yourself?"

Amalia

It seemed that Amalia had a lot to say. Luckily for her, Loren was perfectly willing to let her say it all. Indeed, as she struggled to come up with even a few examples of how he’d done good, he just smirked quietly. Bull in a china shop indeed: seemed that even when she was trying to make him feel better, her true thoughts shown through. ”And have I made any amends, really? People are still terrified of the Launceleyns, and my trampling around didn’t help with that.” No, he’d just added himself to the list of monstrous members of his family. ”My magic is puny, and no one, even myself, can tell if it will even help in the end. It didn’t with the Prince, and people keep telling me how useless I am and how much I don't know. Though you’re right, I’m not as bad as Roana.” Small blessing, that. He tilted his head at Amalia. ”Who gets to decide if I’m a monster, then, if not the people who look at me like I’m about to turn into one at the drop of a hat?” If she said him, well, that would be just fine. Maybe that was because he was irritating and self-centered and sometimes insufferable. Her words, not his. As the baker finally grew angry, the summoner just shrugged. Her words couldn’t possibly be more hurtful than the ones he’d heard from his family, his supposed loved ones, and himself over the years. ”Who said it’s a game, or that I want to get anything out of this? Maybe I’m just being honest. But you’re probably right.” He gave her one of his scary little grins. ”The world hates me, though maybe not as much as I hate myself, I’ll give you that. Given the history of insanity in my family, and how dangerously unstable I am, maybe it was only a matter of time before I snapped.” That was always a possibility, one the baker had obviously considered. His voice came out coldly clinical, as if he were discussing nothing more than the weather. ”Or maybe it was the fact that I didn’t exactly receive a warm welcome on my return that sent me back over the edge.” He wasn’t really blaming anyone but himself for the events that had transpired, but it wasn’t as if others had not contributed to his latest flirtation with madness. Yes, the blight was terrifying and occupying everyone's time and focus. On top of that, he was terrible about being open about what he needed. He'd been sick, though, in his mind, and needed help. And he hadn't exactly gotten it, so maybe this was just a continuation of the insanity that had driven him away to begin with. LOREN Not quite an open book

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

"Do people act terrified of you?" Amalia snaps back, tilting her head a little. As far as she can tell it's quite removed from the truth. Even now the baker cannot find it in herself to be particularly terrified of Loren, more bewildered and ill at ease with the summoner's strange change in character. "You keep saying we all treat you like a monster, but it kind of just feels like you're looking for excuses to be one, and that's on you."

Clenching her fists enough to draw blood, the Shield stares up at the taller man through eyes like sparking flint, her teeth clenched and grinding behind the tight line of her lips. At least he's turning his vitriol onto himself and off of her: Amalia is much better equipped to deal with the self-hatred of others than her own insecurities. "I don't hate you," she repeats with a tense shrug, though once again she doubts he'll care. "Sounds like Remi doesn't hate you, and he has the most reason. Wessex, of all people, has trusted you enough to be leading a bunch of Longnight stuff." How he's gotten Wessex to tolerate him if he acts like this is beyond the girl.

"We didn't throw you a parade. But you haven't exactly been warm yourself. I invited you to my house. I offered you meals - twice! - and you repeatedly turned me down." Sighing, the girl takes a step back, some of the tension falling away as weariness takes its place. Rubbing her hand over her neck, Amalia glances to the luxere and lets out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry you feel alone, Loren. I..." Know what that feels like trails away. Looking back at the summoner, she bites her lip. "I can't imagine what you've been through. But I hope you don't let it turn you into a monster."

Amalia

Loren’s response to Amalia’s pointed question was simple. ”Yes.” Maybe not of him, specifically, but of an unknown, potentially volatile Launceleyn. Of someone who came from a family of monsters, and hadn’t earned their trust. Maybe it wasn’t terror, but it was certainly suspicion, and both certainly stemmed from a place of fear. However, maybe because he’d been too angry for too long, or maybe because he’d run out of retorts—or maybe because the baker was more persuasive than she realized—but he paused, and regarded her with eyes that were suddenly more tired than icy. ”I have every excuse to be a monster. It’s being something else that I’ve always struggled with.” That hadn’t stopped him from trying, in the past, but he was so fucking tired of being good all the time. He still did good. He just didn’t sound, look, or feel good. As she repeated that she didn’t hate him, that Remi didn’t hate him (though neither of them knew that, not really), and that Wessex trusted him, the summoner moved past Amalia to sit on the bench. ”Alright. You don’t hate me.” He couldn’t deny how she felt. ”Maybe Remi doesn’t hate me. But whatever he feels for me just hurts. And Wessex doesn’t trust me. She just is using me.” Not that he minded, not really: he’d always been raised and trained to be of service, that much had not changed. But if the queen could have his powers without him, she’d probably do it in a heartbeat she didn’t have. ”But there’s more to the world than the three of you. The gods hate me and my kind. My family is mostly dead or gone, not that anyone really misses them. And all I hear about these days is how we’re all likely to perish in LongNight.” So the fates, if they existed, certainly didn’t look kindly upon him. Then, however, the baker complained about the fact that he hadn’t accepted her offer to feed him. It was wrapped in a complaint about his personality, and his eyes narrowed and hardened again. ”So it’s my fault, then, that I didn’t have time to take you up on your offer and didn’t want to impose? Never mind that I have two small children to take care of, and opened my home to every newcomer I came across, all of whom I’ve given food and lodging to. That's not even getting into the research you had me do or the preparations I've made for LongNight.” That was a ridiculous reason to be upset if he’d ever heard one. ”Fine. If the invitation still stands, would you like me to come over? I can’t promise to be warm.” Presumably she’d say no, but if it meant that much to her (for real, and not just something she was clinging to because she didn’t know how to deal with him), then he’d take her up on her offer. She was right about one thing: she had no idea what he’d been through. Maybe it was time to enlighten her. His eyes grew haunted as he once more dredged up the horrors of his past. ”I’m already a monster. Because what is the child of monsters if not a monster himself?” He’d said the same thing to Rexanna, who hadn’t believed him; Amalia would probably feel much the same. Maybe she'd get through where the blue-eyed woman had failed. Probably not. ”You want to know what I've been through? Fine. My family was bound by an oath to serve the crown. If we were disobedient, we died instantly. That included the children.” All the children, no matter how good or sweet they were or how hard they tried. ”So they tortured us into obedience. And they tortured us if we weren’t strong enough to be of use.” It sounded far away to his ears. ”I was one of the weak ones.” His voice came out pretty much empty of emotion, and his eyes were elsewhere. Still, he focused his gaze on the baker for his last comment. ”So I am sorry if I am not warm enough for you, or open enough with my affection or feelings for everyone else, but I’ve never known love that wasn’t wrapped up in pain. And whenever I’ve shown weakness, I’ve been punished for it.” And if she didn’t understand how twisted that made him inside, he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe he wasn't a monster, but he was certainly broken enough not to be a man anymore. LOREN Not quite an open book

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

She wants to say something snarky, like talk to me about LongNight when you've lived through twenty-one of them and lost more people than you can count, but Amalia holds her tongue. It isn't about her, she has to remind herself as Loren continues to rant and rave, clearly hurting, a wounded thing lashing out at anyone who draws near. It reminds her of the luxere and its red antlers, terrified and alone, and it is not for nothing that the Shield is repeatedly called a bleeding heart.

She does cross her arms as he twists her words, angular face deadpan, an eyebrow raised. "Sure," she replies, accepting his challenge, daring him to question the seriousness of a Chandrakant invitation. "That's not what I said or meant, but yes, the offer still stands. I have some stew in the oven. You're welcome to join for lunch." She cannot say she particularly looks forward to the idea of him spending time in her house right now, but Amalia is a stubborn thing, and she will not back down from what is clearly a challenge.

She begins to gather her things as he continues talking, Jyoti swimming off to find and soothe Astra. Taking the staff in her hands the girl leans upon it, listening with a troubled expression as Loren's tale unravels. It is incomprehensible what he has gone through, not only due to the depth of the cruelty but because servitude to a crown and the torture of children is so far outside her understanding of the world. Amalia has spent her life in a world where community is paramount, survival based on cooperation. She was raised with love and care, despite the differences she may have had with her mother, their fraught last years.

So what is she, the ignorant outsider in this situation, possibly to say? "You don't have to be warm for me. Or apologize for being hurt," the Shield says softly, sincerely, reaching out to gently touch his arm if he will allow it. "You can break down sometimes, y'know? But you told me that I shouldn't give up, as much as I may want to. So the same goes for you." Dropping her hand, the baker shrugs, a tilt of her head in the direction of her shop as she begins to lead the way. "Come on. Let's go eat."

Amalia

Smiling at Amalia slightly less coldly when she took him up on his challenge, Loren nodded. ”Looking forward to it.” Weirdly enough, he was: unlike most of the people he’d encountered, the baker didn’t try to tell him everything would be okay, maybe because she knew that it might not be. Indeed, she’d died once already. In fact, his estimation of her rose. If she was willing to tolerate him, invite him in, not let him get away with his shit or coddle him, then maybe she was worthy of his time after all. Of course, that might change once they actually got to know one another. As he spoke—of his past, of his traumas (some of them at least), of how truly fucked up he was—she didn’t say much, just leaned on her staff and watched him with dark eyes, he could feel the shadows creeping in. This time, however, instead of directing them outwards as he had been recently, he just allowed them back into his heart and mind. They settled in comfortably there, familiar to him. After all, he’d lived with them for as long as he could remember, and for most of that he’d turned them on himself, letting them dig their claws deep into his soul. Maybe it was better for him to be angry. But that didn’t make it better. The touch on his arm brought him back from the dark place he’d wandered, and turned to stare at Amalia with wide and haunted eyes. ”Don’t I?” It seemed to be what everyone wanted from him: sweet Loren, the bumbling and shy librarian he’d been once upon a time, before life began to put him through the wringer. The one who always tried to make up for others’ mistakes, to clean up everyone’s mess. There were ironic echoes of that in him even now; they showed up in the way he forced himself to try to protect people, even at the expense of his own well-being and friendships with them, in the way he didn’t sleep or eat so he could get a bit more work done. However, people would probably just argue that it was selfish pride, not anything else. And he was tired of arguing with everyone, including himself. Amalia seemed to think her words might bring him some comfort, but the Launceleyn shook his head, the motion jerky. ”I spent a year broken. And now...now I don’t know how to be anything less than perfect, even if it’s perfectly cruel.” He could feel his grip on himself slipping, and he shivered from the cold without and within. When she tried to coax him, he shook his head again, this time a little sadly. ”I need to keep singing.” After he scared the luxere off during his fight with Phoebe, he needed to make sure they came back. LOREN Not quite an open book

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

"No. You don't." Maybe there are people who will demand warmth and kindness from him, but Amalia would rather he not pretend to feel things about her that he obviously does not. Half-smiling wryly, she tilts her head. "You don't even like me. You don't have to pretend. Just, y'know. Don't be an asshole for no reason." Being sad is fine. Being angry is fine. But playing stupid games of cruelty and name calling? That she does not want to deal with. She doesn't have the strength.

Loren's comment about perfection was likely meant to be serious, but Amalia cannot help it: she laughs aloud in response, a kind sound without mockery, but clearly amused at this new logic. Shaking her golden head, the Shield fixes him with a warm stare. "I think you'll have to keep working on the perfect cruelty bit. Or don't. Maybe put all the energy you're putting into being perfect toward figuring out how to be happy." Big talk from a girl with an inferiority complex a mile wide, but Amalia has been trying to practice what she preaches.

And then, again, he denies her invitation to eat. It is almost enough to make her throw up her hands in exasperation and aggravation, to shake his shoulders and demand to know what it is he wants. Instead she exhales a sharp sigh, closing her eyes a moment before shrugging. "Suit yourself," the Shield allows, turning to walk back toward her shop. "But you know where to find me, if you change your mind."

Amalia

Loren eyed Amalia warily. They all said they didn’t want things from him, but in the end they seemed to expect him to fall in line, to express himself, to listen to them, to forge his own path,  to follow orders, to do what he wanted. But the truth of the matter was, he didn’t know what he wanted. So the fact that others kept saying to do this or that, as if they weren’t completely contradictory and confusing pieces of advice or commands wasn’t helping. ”Fine.” He obviously didn’t sound happy about it, but if that’s how the baker really felt, then the Launceleyn would see if she actually meant it. Apparently he was funny. That was funny, because everyone knew he lacked any semblance of a sense of humor. So if this had been anyone other than Amalia, who didn’t seem to have a cruel bone in her body (though a bit of a temper), the summoner would’ve assumed they were laughing at him, and reacted accordingly. As it stood, he just watched her, gaze still cold. ”I don’t know how to be happy.” Even in those brief moments where he’d thought he might’ve figured it out, there’d still been that hidden core where he kept his darkness tightly leashed. Maybe now that he’d let it out, he could finally find out. As Amalia shrugged and left, the Launceleyn stood up. He stalked behind her in the snow for a few moments before he caught up. ”I meant that I don’t like to leave tasks incomplete, and that we should eat after we finished with the luxere.” It was stew. It was presumably being kept warm in a pot, and he knew that it wouldn’t go bad in the time it took them to sing and feed the herd. Still, if the baker wanted to eat first, he’d follow along behind her and find out just how committed she was to this whole ‘be yourself just don’t be an asshole’ bit. LOREN Not quite an open book

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

I don't know how to be happy. Well, if that doesn't hit her hard in a painful place. Smiling crookedly, Amalia sighs. "Me neither," the Shield admits, remembering the last time she saw him, when she told him her secret: that for as long as she can remember she has wanted to die. "But I'm trying to figure it out."

Honestly, his pursuit is more surprising than it should be. He is a wounded animal and she has offered him comfort. Of course he would follow, though in his own time. Amalia quirks another half-smile as his sulky voice rings out behind her, shrugging without looking back, her feet crunching in the snow. "The luxere aren't going anywhere. If anything, they'll follow us." And it's true: already a few have set off in pursuit of Loren, their luminous antlers bobbing as they walk, wondering where their new friends are off to and generally unperturbed by the approaching change of scenery.

"Besides, they're going to get lunch, too." Amalia does not enter the front door: instead she walks around to the back, letting the luxere linger in the garden while she opens the door to the basement, where some oats and hay are stored. With Jyoti urging Loren to follow she descends the ladder into the large room, taking a moment to shake her head at the useless tunnel before grabbing a bag of oats.

Amalia

Yes yes, Amalia had died and was super beat up about it. And yet she seemed to have her life figured out regardless: her bakery, her friends, her loved ones, her companion, every sign pointed to her having everything she needed to lift herself out of her depression. Loren gave her an inscrutable look. ”How’s that working out for you?” Because if she was telling him to figure out how to be happy when she herself didn’t know how, that would be the height of hypocrisy. Not that he was complaining. He just wanted to know where they stood. Obviously he couldn’t see her smile, considering he was still traipsing behind her. However, at her comment about the luxere following behind them, he glanced back; not only was Astra there, but several full-sized members of the herd as well. Turning forward, he closed the distance between himself and the baker. ”That’s new.” Of course his companion had followed him home the first time he’d gone out to sing to the luxere, so maybe it shouldn’t be all that surprising. Still, the creatures clearly didn’t know any better, Astra included. As they moved around to the back of the bakery, the summoner’s eyebrows rose as Amalia revealed the tunnel; still, at Jyoti’s urging, the Launceleyn walked down the steps and grabbed a sack. He peeked inside to find oats, and grabbed a handful. Then he shrugged off his own pack and nabbed an apple as well, before holding out both to the luxere who were now congregating around. LOREN Not quite an open book

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

How easy would it be to say that she's consistently getting better- and how much easier to say that she's not. But life is complicated, and Amalia thinks a moment before answering Loren's question, her voice quiet, her expression wry. "Some days well. Some days not so much." The road to recovery is a long and difficult one, and Amalia would be lying if she said she didn't constantly lose her way.

As Loren grabs a handful of oats Amalia pushes out a few flakes of hay she'd gotten from Rory's farm. It's a bit of a struggle, but she makes it up the ladder, covered in lengths of golden straw, her hair and clothes more plant than person. As she deposits the lunch for the luxere the baker shakes her head, picking a long length of hay from her mane. "Better be grateful, you silly creatures," the shield murmurs good naturedly, reaching out to scratch one under the chin before disappearing into the shop.

Amalia hums as she gathers things for lunch, a folk song about Ludo and the pursuit of a rabbit that did not want to hibernate for LongNight. Now and then snippets of words escape her lips: "Rabbit runs on frozen ground, hiding in the snow moss... 'Get to safety,' Ludo calls, 'Or you'll find your soul lost'..." With the knowledge of one who lives and breathes a place she finds the things she needs, filling up two bowls with stew before slicing into a loaf of bread.

Amalia

LOREN

Well, at least Amalia had the decency to be honest with Loren. Maybe he’d underestimated her, even misinterpreted her conversations as false when her concern had been genuine. Little by little, he could feel himself thawing in her presence. ”Are there more days that go well than not so much?” Maybe that was all any of them could ask.

Seeing as the baker just sort of dumped out the food, the Launceleyn decided to do the same with both of his packs. Apparently, that had been an option all along. Astra came up for a head rub, and the summoner obliged, scratching behind her ears for good measure. She gave him an adoring look, then went to join her wild cousins as they fed.

Then he followed Amalia into the shop, watching her as she bustled about. ”Can I help?” His voice came out gruffly, though before too long the baker filled up two bowls and started slicing bread. Apparently she had everything well in hand, so he just leaned against a nearby wall. If she wanted to be a good hostess, he supposed he could let her, though his fingers twitched to pitch in. Then her humming turned into actual singing, and he fell silent, letting the music wash over him. Obviously it was a song he was unfamiliar with, given the references to Ludo.

But don’t be weary if it’s broken

Families are like that—

they’re split up and always torn.

meet me where the falling stars live

I will wait for you day and night

Pausing a moment at Loren's question, the baker finally turns back to the summoner, her dark eyes serious as they meet his blue, a pensive expression on her angular face. "There are now," Amalia murmurs softly. "But for a long time... no. No, there were a lot more bad days." Lonely hours in the Antheneum, mournful nights alone in the dark. Looking off the edge of the Bone Bridge and wondering if anyone would miss her, were she to hit the bottom.

But now? Now she has family, she has friends, she has purpose. There are still bad days - countless of them - but there are good ones, too, bright moments that poke through with stars.

Loren asks if he can help, and Amalia smiles up at him. "Ah... do you want to eat inside or out? If inside, you could set the table. If outside, there's a blanket in that corner." Tossing her head to indicate the direction, she lets him decide where they will eat as she finishes serving the plates, continuing her absent song. "Round the fields Rabbit runs, singing in his laughter... 'Come now, Rabbit,' Ludo says. 'Or I'll not find you after'..."

With the soup and bread served along with butter and apple cider, Amalia places the beverages and condiments on a tray, preparing to take them to whatever location Loren has decided they will eat.

Amalia