Dead men walking

Sacrifice or no, whatever Loren might want to plan would not prevent Ronin's death if a cure was not found sooner rather than later. And much as the hunter wanted to put on a brave face, his time was almost up and he knew it, even if no one else wanted to admit to it. Sipping at his wine and rolling his eyes as Loren agreed with him and kept drinking anyway (proof, at least, that it really was the Launceleyn sitting nearby, and not some clever intruder), Ronin nodded curtly at the librarian's comment. If Ronin had thought he'd be around, he'd hold Loren to it. But then the conversation soured considerably, Ronin raising an eyebrow as the other man spoke, confused at first, before realisation slapped him across the face. "I was talking about myself," he said flatly. "I'm obviously not the same person you last had a conversation with." Motioning at the state of him, that much should be all but painfully obvious. But Loren had clearly taken something else from it, and they stumbled right into the heart of what the ex-captain was trying to avoid. Blue eyes hardening, he drained the rest of his glass. "He has been better," he said, his tone curt. "I'm dying, so... that is obviously not great. I put him through it once already, so this time is insult to injury. He's driving himself mad trying to find a cure for the blight - I think only Aoife is keeping him grounded these days." And if you hurt him, Loren, I will kill you. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.