a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
“F-Fifteen.” He admits. Four years ago now.
But the confidence of the summoner has him pausing, shifting his attention and not commenting on Loren’s own confidence – something Glas very clearly lacked. But he focuses on the flower, watching it wilt before his eyes, looking back toward Loren as he focuses on the thoughtful expression, averting his gaze toward the cup once more. “My parents wanted crafting.” He admits quietly. And somehow, for some reason, he gnaws on his lip. “I wanted healing.”
Just another quiet admission.
But Loren offers to try, and Glas knows it will not work, but Loren offers his hand out to rest atop Glas’ own and he lets him. He feels the attempt Loren makes, the way Glas body rejects every single bit of everything Loren tries to pour through, and after a few moments of that warring, raging attempts, Glas pulls his hand away with a shake of his head. “D-Didn’t work.”
But the confidence of the summoner has him pausing, shifting his attention and not commenting on Loren’s own confidence – something Glas very clearly lacked. But he focuses on the flower, watching it wilt before his eyes, looking back toward Loren as he focuses on the thoughtful expression, averting his gaze toward the cup once more. “My parents wanted crafting.” He admits quietly. And somehow, for some reason, he gnaws on his lip. “I wanted healing.”
Just another quiet admission.
But Loren offers to try, and Glas knows it will not work, but Loren offers his hand out to rest atop Glas’ own and he lets him. He feels the attempt Loren makes, the way Glas body rejects every single bit of everything Loren tries to pour through, and after a few moments of that warring, raging attempts, Glas pulls his hand away with a shake of his head. “D-Didn’t work.”
a thousand voices dead at my feet
GLAS
