impossible reasons

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