After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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Fennrin had spent what felt like hours just thinking, staring into space in what used to be his and Ainreth's tent. Being here was definitely not helping anything, but he couldn't he couldn't get himself to move, stuck replaying what happened in his head over and over.
He couldn't believe they'd gotten here. He'd always thought they could talk things out, no matter what. Because they loved each other, didn't they? But Ainreth had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with him.
And to assume that Fennrin would ever cheat on Ain with anyone was just hurtful. Fennrin knew Ainreth hated Daryan, but to go so far as to assume just because they talked sometimes it meant something?
Fennrin rubbed his eyes. He'd already cried enough for today, and he refused to start again. He felt so weak for it, but his heart was breaking over and over just thinking about what had happened.
He was so sad and mad, and yet any time he tried to focus on his anger, it dissipated, leaving him only with crushing misery. He he had no alcohol to drown his sorrows, but perhaps that was a good thing.
Despite Ainreth's dismissal, they would be moving on soon, and he couldn't be drunk. Lys-Akkaria needed him, now especially. Now that...he was alone.
Fennrin flinched when someone cleared their throat behind him, turning around to see Daryan poking his head in the tent.
Fennrin had not spoken to anyone since the incident, aside from the Bulwark who tried to assure him Ainreth would be back as a general and that he didn't mean what he'd said. But Fennrin hadn't had the energy to listen to her, let alone believe her. Ainreth had seemed very genuine when he'd said what he'd said. And even if he hadn't been, the reaction had given Fennrin a lot to think about.
"Do you have a moment, Fenn?" asked Daryan, smiling at him sadly, a bruise and cut on his nose from Ainreth punching him, the skin still a little swollen.
Fennrin sighed. He didn't much want to talk to anyone right now, but he didn't have the energy to resist. And talking with Daryan tended to make him feel better.
"Yes, of course," he said flatly, his voice a little rough from not having spoken in many hours. He didn't want to be rude, but he was just too sad and tired to manage being a good conversation partner right now.
Daryan didn't seem to mind at least as he walked in and to where Fennrin was sitting, leaning on what used to be Ainreth's chair with his hand, hesitating for a moment.
Fennrin just nodded, swallowing thickly, trying to prepare himself for having a likely long conversation. He did want to tell Daryan that he needed to be alone, but maybe wallowing in his misery was the actually bad option, despite not really feeling like talking.
"I...regret my part in what happened," Daryan said, sighing, his shoulders sinking. "I should have foreseen the consequences. What conclusions you sleeping in my tent would make Ainreth jump to."
