For a moment, the outside world—vast, unknown—had loomed like a dark and terrible thing in his imagination, a monster ready to swallow all that he held dear and never spit it out again. A fear of losing not only his way of life, but everyone he cared for, of them finding something else to hold on to, out there, their own obligations; and Rory would never be enough of a reason to return.
And for that brief, brief moment, when his gut flipped and his blood ran cold, a thumb stroked across his hand, a soothing motion, movement directly born from the fear he exuded. He knew that he let more of his emotions slip through than usual, but it was still .. odd, to have someone pick up on it, and do something about it. At least, someone who wasn't his sister.
He watched Jigano's fox eyes as he spoke, beaten from the words, warm from the smile. When the gryphon squeaked, he looked down at her, the way she nestled against his hand and arm. Abandoned. Acquired. He knew that they had had a different name back then, his kind, who was traced to no particular lineage, but merely sprouted here and there, like unwanted mushrooms. Acquired had been one of many suggestions given, warped over time, as many forgot, or became unsure.
He had spent so much time avoiding thinking about it, because all it ever did was make him bitter, dark, angry. He bristled against Gods he should love, when they gave him so very little reason to.
"Acquired," he said quietly. "Beloved by the Gods, until we did something catastrophically, monumentally wrong. No one seems to know what exactly, not anymore. But whatever it was .. it was likely the reason for all of .. this." He waved his free hand haphazardly, indicating whatever was outside the Temple. "And thus, Abandoned by the Gods. Three hundred years, paying for something someone we aren't even necessarily related to did. Over and over again, the Abandoned have been born and died and none of us have a fucking clue anymore as to what's wrong about us but we're still not good enough."
He fell silent; his voice had been savage. Bitter. He drew a deep breath, and looked aside, ashamed over his outburst. "Sorry," he muttered, acutely aware that the Outlanders, the increased activity of the Gods, the foolhardy plan to attack the Spire Demon, had brought all of this close to the surface again. "It's a .. sore spot, I guess you could say..."
And for that brief, brief moment, when his gut flipped and his blood ran cold, a thumb stroked across his hand, a soothing motion, movement directly born from the fear he exuded. He knew that he let more of his emotions slip through than usual, but it was still .. odd, to have someone pick up on it, and do something about it. At least, someone who wasn't his sister.
He watched Jigano's fox eyes as he spoke, beaten from the words, warm from the smile. When the gryphon squeaked, he looked down at her, the way she nestled against his hand and arm. Abandoned. Acquired. He knew that they had had a different name back then, his kind, who was traced to no particular lineage, but merely sprouted here and there, like unwanted mushrooms. Acquired had been one of many suggestions given, warped over time, as many forgot, or became unsure.
He had spent so much time avoiding thinking about it, because all it ever did was make him bitter, dark, angry. He bristled against Gods he should love, when they gave him so very little reason to.
"Acquired," he said quietly. "Beloved by the Gods, until we did something catastrophically, monumentally wrong. No one seems to know what exactly, not anymore. But whatever it was .. it was likely the reason for all of .. this." He waved his free hand haphazardly, indicating whatever was outside the Temple. "And thus, Abandoned by the Gods. Three hundred years, paying for something someone we aren't even necessarily related to did. Over and over again, the Abandoned have been born and died and none of us have a fucking clue anymore as to what's wrong about us but we're still not good enough."
He fell silent; his voice had been savage. Bitter. He drew a deep breath, and looked aside, ashamed over his outburst. "Sorry," he muttered, acutely aware that the Outlanders, the increased activity of the Gods, the foolhardy plan to attack the Spire Demon, had brought all of this close to the surface again. "It's a .. sore spot, I guess you could say..."
