A Homecoming of Sorts (Open)

Loren just stared at Beatrix, dumbfounded and incredulous. There was no way this child could stand there, with a straight face, and lecture Loren about not taking things too personally and then tell him said lesson came from ZARIAH of all people. Zariah, drama queen of petty grudges, who took greatest offense at the slightest of slights. Zariah, who couldn’t handle people telling her no and raged against them when they did. Zariah who had never once turned the other cheek, and who seemed incapable of doing anything but overreact. “Guess Zariah wasn’t one to practice what she preached, then.” He knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. Besides, he was sick and tired of all this fucking judgment from his family; child or no child, Beatrix needed to get a more complete lesson in the family history before Loren smacked her. “Sure. Maybe I never learned how to let go. Maybe I overreacted.” He could feel his temper, which he rarely unleashed, building. “Or maybe, just maybe the rest of the family couldn't accept that I needed my space, which I politely asked for, and freaked out at me. Or ‘got upset,’ as you say. Maybe when I realized that being the Left Hand wasn’t something I wanted after all, when I gave up trying to please them and chose my own happiness, chose a different life, a different path for myself, they should’ve supported me, listened to me, accepted my decision, instead of trying to drag me back to an existence that brought me nothing but pain.” He knew that he should shut up, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Oh, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t just get over the fact that they tortured me! Was I supposed to roll over like the good little puppy Zariah always wanted me to be?” Angry tears filled his eyes now, and he choked back a sob. The fact that Beatrix had the nerve to talk to Loren about cleaning up messes, when that’s all he’d done for the family time and time again finally left him speechless. Or maybe it was the rage and sorrow swirling in his heart. He should’ve known better than to come back to the manor. Then he caught Jace in his peripheral vision, and Loren froze, shame replacing the storm of feelings from before. This was not the way to get through to the children. But Beatrix’s words had awakened every painful memory he’d suffered at the hands of his kin, every injury they’d inflicted on him, every taunt, spell, mocking laugh. The scars of it all, which covered most of his body in a nightmarish mishmash, seemed to burn with a fire hotter than anything they’d wielded against him. So he sought out that cold, cool place he’d been forced to discover at far too young and tender an age. He welcomed it as the walls closed around him and his emotions were shut out. Taking one deep, shuddering breath, Loren regained his tightly held control. “I’m sorry. Clearly there’s a lot of blame to go around.” He turned so that he could look Beatrix in the eye. “But whatever happened in the past is in the past. I know I left, before, know I wasn’t there for you. I’m here now, though, and not going anywhere. So, if I promise to let go of the past, can you do me the same?” It was unfair to ask this of her, but Loren couldn’t stay here if she was going to keep tossing baseless accusations at him with her incomplete understanding of the situation. It was too similar to what his other relatives had done to him to bear for long. Turning to Jace now, Loren tried to smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jace. I didn’t mean to yell. Can you forgive me?” Hopefully the librarian hadn’t just ruined his chances of befriending his tempers. Then again, given Edy and Zariah’s legendary tempers, the boy was probably used to it. Of course then he still had the godsforsaken dildo to deal with. Beatrix wanted a memento of Edy, apparently. Loren could understand that, even approve of it. But they could find her something else. “I understand. I miss her too. But we can find you something of Aunt Edy’s I promise. But as I said, that stick isn’t for children.” He was still using his most patience voice—though he had no idea how, under the circumstances—but he was nearing the end of his patience. While he didn’t want to take it by force, if she refused to relinquish it, he definitely would. Jace once again proved a crucial distraction. At the mention of burning Edy’s things, Loren closed his eyes, a pang of sadness overcoming him. It was the Launceleyn way, although a body was usually more appropriate. Maybe there was no body, though; Loren hadn’t seen anyone he could ask. When the librarian opened his eyes, he followed his nephew’s pointing finger to the top of the closet. Smiling, Loren got to his knees, but didn’t bother standing up fully. Instead, with an effort of will he grabbed the items with his telekinesis. As he floated them to the ground, he checked them carefully; anything kid-appropriate, he brought to the ground, while everything for adults stayed in the air. Most of the objects stayed in the air, and Loren was glad he didn’t have to touch them with his hands. LOREN Not quite an open book