The white sheep of the family
Loren nodded first to Bastien’s statement that the other man would rest his leg and that he and Rexanna could manage on their own. The summoner wasn’t quite so sure about either of those, but he was willing to accept Bastien’s judgment of his own capabilities. ”Alright. Well, let me know if your leg gets worse or if you change your mind about the help.” Apparently, the Launceleyn was learning not to butt in where he wasn’t welcome. Good for him, he supposed.
Yes, his magic was useful, and yes, even he’d admit impressive. However, he’d grown up in a very particular (and particularly evil) household that had some specific ideas on the proper use and place of power, magical and otherwise. ”Money can’t buy happiness. And magic can’t earn it.” He smiled a bit. Once upon a time, it might’ve contained a sad edge to it; while there were still echoes of that, it was mostly just a normal smile. He was healing, in mind and spirit, and he was finding happiness in more parts of his life than he’d expected.
The little creature was adorable, especially in its interactions with Bastien. As the other man offered the critter—and the summoner, weirdly enough—canvas, Loren grinned. Just because he was intrigued and maybe a bit annoyed that he didn’t recognize the creature didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate it. ”I think I’ll leave the art to the experts and their companions. Thank you, though.” The summoner was not someone who could create fantastic works, regardless of what Bastien or Oliver might think. Besides, the Launceleyn had done what he came here to do and then some.
Yes, his magic was useful, and yes, even he’d admit impressive. However, he’d grown up in a very particular (and particularly evil) household that had some specific ideas on the proper use and place of power, magical and otherwise. ”Money can’t buy happiness. And magic can’t earn it.” He smiled a bit. Once upon a time, it might’ve contained a sad edge to it; while there were still echoes of that, it was mostly just a normal smile. He was healing, in mind and spirit, and he was finding happiness in more parts of his life than he’d expected.
The little creature was adorable, especially in its interactions with Bastien. As the other man offered the critter—and the summoner, weirdly enough—canvas, Loren grinned. Just because he was intrigued and maybe a bit annoyed that he didn’t recognize the creature didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate it. ”I think I’ll leave the art to the experts and their companions. Thank you, though.” The summoner was not someone who could create fantastic works, regardless of what Bastien or Oliver might think. Besides, the Launceleyn had done what he came here to do and then some.
Will blood tell
