LOREN
Rexanna was almost certainly saying that to make Loren feel better. It was sweet, but not really what he needed at that moment. Probably never what he needed: after everything he’d been through in his life, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel fully comfortable accepting a simple compliment. Indeed, he snorted, giving her a wry look. ”I guess there’s a first time for everything. Not sure me being fun has happened yet though.” Indeed, even their first meeting, while pleasant and enjoyable, had been more awkward than anything else. At her laugh, though, he faltered slightly, shoulders slumping forward just a little. ”I’ve certainly made enough trouble.” Rexanna. Remi. Ronin. Phoebe. Amalia. And more, who he’d hurt with careless words and even more thoughtless actions.
At the mention of flame and wings, a small ghost of a smile returned. ”Remind me to show you the dragon sometime. Or the pegasus.” Indeed, there was a whole host of fantastical creatures at his fingertips, and yet none of them seemed to be strong enough to fix all the mistakes he made. Probably because he was—or at least he was afraid—that he was still the weakling he’d been for so long. In mind, certainly in body, definitely in spirit, even if not in magic.
At her explanation of why The Voice wouldn’t keep their sensations on most of the time, the Launceleyn couldn’t help but frown. ”Surviving isn’t living.” It was a refrain he’d heard, thought, and said many times in the past, to himself and others; without the sun or the taste of freshly baked bread, or a thousand other small sensations and pleasures (and even pains sometime) it was hard to call it a full life.
But then again, the blue-eyed woman had filled her life with other joys. ”That sounds wonderful.” However, when she brought up her ex-husband, the Launceleyn flinched. He’d forgotten that particularly detail. In his mind, of course, her marriage to Bastien was the only real one. ”Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Considering the summoner had come from a land of arranged marriages as well, he knew how loveless most of them could be. That was especially true for the Launceleyns. However, it seemed that maybe Rexanna had it worst of all.
At the mention of flame and wings, a small ghost of a smile returned. ”Remind me to show you the dragon sometime. Or the pegasus.” Indeed, there was a whole host of fantastical creatures at his fingertips, and yet none of them seemed to be strong enough to fix all the mistakes he made. Probably because he was—or at least he was afraid—that he was still the weakling he’d been for so long. In mind, certainly in body, definitely in spirit, even if not in magic.
At her explanation of why The Voice wouldn’t keep their sensations on most of the time, the Launceleyn couldn’t help but frown. ”Surviving isn’t living.” It was a refrain he’d heard, thought, and said many times in the past, to himself and others; without the sun or the taste of freshly baked bread, or a thousand other small sensations and pleasures (and even pains sometime) it was hard to call it a full life.
But then again, the blue-eyed woman had filled her life with other joys. ”That sounds wonderful.” However, when she brought up her ex-husband, the Launceleyn flinched. He’d forgotten that particularly detail. In his mind, of course, her marriage to Bastien was the only real one. ”Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Considering the summoner had come from a land of arranged marriages as well, he knew how loveless most of them could be. That was especially true for the Launceleyns. However, it seemed that maybe Rexanna had it worst of all.
REXANNA
