LOREN
Maea would face no resistance from Loren. As she pushed him, he'd fall to his back easily enough. The icy blades would slip from suddenly slack fingers. Her efforts to raise his arms above him would similarly succeed, since his body had grown almost entirely limp.
However, even before she finished shouting at him, sparks of sky blue light were creeping across his wrists, sealing the cuts closed, replenishing the blood he lost. The flow slowed to a trickle, then stopped completely, without even a scar to show for it.
"'Good thing you can heal.'" There was something lost and small about his voice. "That's what I tell myself, 'good thing you can heal.'" He closed his eyes. "But nowadays, it's always followed by, 'is it?'" Because if he couldn't heal, maybe he wouldn't be so confused about pleasure and pain. Maybe he wouldn't be so reckless.
Or maybe he'd be dead by now. And that thought didn't bother him as much as it should.
However, even before she finished shouting at him, sparks of sky blue light were creeping across his wrists, sealing the cuts closed, replenishing the blood he lost. The flow slowed to a trickle, then stopped completely, without even a scar to show for it.
"'Good thing you can heal.'" There was something lost and small about his voice. "That's what I tell myself, 'good thing you can heal.'" He closed his eyes. "But nowadays, it's always followed by, 'is it?'" Because if he couldn't heal, maybe he wouldn't be so confused about pleasure and pain. Maybe he wouldn't be so reckless.
Or maybe he'd be dead by now. And that thought didn't bother him as much as it should.
But don’t be weary if it’s broken
Families are like that—
they’re split up and always torn.
