whatever comes, let it come
what stays, let it stay
Loren let out a huff of laughter and shook his head, gesturing at his still too thin body. ”Yeah, I’m sure they’re terrified of me.” However, the humor didn’t last for long, and he nodded sagely. ”I know.” Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. ”Hopefully things will be different, now that I’m...an Attuned?” He gave Amalia a slightly sheepish look.Even that slipped away, and he frowned, brow furrowed as the baker revealed what she knew. Needing to do something other than worry, he knelt to help right and replace the pots the baker had knocked over. ”Gods, what a mess.” The sorrow and exhaustion in his voice was apparent, and no, he wasn’t talking about the pots. Shaking his head, he straightened up.
”What do the people of the Hollowed Grounds want? Or, if you can’t answer that, what do you want?” He tilted his head, eyes somber as he waited for her to respond. ”And if they do decide they want Wessex to step down, will she? Even if she does, what then?” Unfortunately, he couldn't keep the doubt from his voice.
Bending down, he retrieved the bottle from where he’d stashed it. Opening it with quick motions, he stepped forward and poured them both a generous amount, setting the bottle on the counter as well. Raising his mug, he toasted Amalia. "To surviving LongNight." Somehow, he managed to make that sound cheerful, though his eyes were distant.
what goes, let go
LOREN
