LOREN
Continuing to pour the magic into Maea, Loren swept his eyes over her, trying to direct the flow of healing to where it was needed most. At her words, he nodded, but said nothing further. Instead, he just sighed, the fleeting rush from the combat already fading. At least the buzz from the alcohol was starting to replace it.
At her question, though, he shook his head slowly. "Nothing." The word was surprisingly bitter. "I'm stronger, better trained, have an incredibly high tolerance for pain, and I'm not afraid to die." His voice came out shockingly honest, the sort of truth that only came at the bottom of a bottle or the end of one's rope. "So I guess your only mistake was picking a fight you couldn't win."
At her question, though, he shook his head slowly. "Nothing." The word was surprisingly bitter. "I'm stronger, better trained, have an incredibly high tolerance for pain, and I'm not afraid to die." His voice came out shockingly honest, the sort of truth that only came at the bottom of a bottle or the end of one's rope. "So I guess your only mistake was picking a fight you couldn't win."
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
