Rory's blood-sister had taken more after their father, or perhaps that was simply an expression of having grown up with him: down-to-earth, practical, focused. There was little time for whimsy, and through fractured conversations and broken moments Rory had pieced somewhat of a truth together—Karlia had been born as whimsical as him, as whimsical as their mother, but she had learned to not be that way in her first four years.
It had been a lesson that had stuck deep in her, but even so, he had been subjected to a fair share of teasing growing up. Jigano's rueful grin and questioning eyebrow earned him the ghost of a grin, a twitch in the corner of Rory's mouth; there was something oddly satisfying about watching Amalia's onslaught, how she took absolutely zero prisoners in this game.
His fingers closed around Jigano's again.
The whole exchange tasted like family.
And family looked out for each other. Both of Rory's blond eyebrows arched upwards at her dead serious declaration, a knight in shining armor for her wolf-brother, a sentiment (threat, promise) he hadn't expected.
He didn't know how to feel about it, so he merely watched with a mild, unshocked expression until the river ran freely again: Amalia twirled and teased and Rory felt something he wanted to call walled in by affection, but it made it sound so.. bad? Because it wasn't a bad thing, but a cage nonetheless, Jigano pressed against one side, Amalia leaning on the other.
The wild and reckless thing in his soul was afraid and twitchy, wanting to break free and run, but he held it down with a breathless laugh—
(it's just something new, it's okay, everything is always changing anyway)
—and a knowing gaze leveled at Amalia. "Barbaric," he agreed in mock indignation and horror, fingers running over Jigano's skin in silent comfort, his free hand suddenly full of half a sweet roll. He took it with an eye-smile, a glimmer of sunshine from within, eating it in silence as his gaze slid to Jigano. He tried to look innocent, unaffected, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it: he looked sly and eager, waiting to see if he'd be baited into song or not.
It had been a lesson that had stuck deep in her, but even so, he had been subjected to a fair share of teasing growing up. Jigano's rueful grin and questioning eyebrow earned him the ghost of a grin, a twitch in the corner of Rory's mouth; there was something oddly satisfying about watching Amalia's onslaught, how she took absolutely zero prisoners in this game.
His fingers closed around Jigano's again.
The whole exchange tasted like family.
And family looked out for each other. Both of Rory's blond eyebrows arched upwards at her dead serious declaration, a knight in shining armor for her wolf-brother, a sentiment (threat, promise) he hadn't expected.
He didn't know how to feel about it, so he merely watched with a mild, unshocked expression until the river ran freely again: Amalia twirled and teased and Rory felt something he wanted to call walled in by affection, but it made it sound so.. bad? Because it wasn't a bad thing, but a cage nonetheless, Jigano pressed against one side, Amalia leaning on the other.
The wild and reckless thing in his soul was afraid and twitchy, wanting to break free and run, but he held it down with a breathless laugh—
(it's just something new, it's okay, everything is always changing anyway)
—and a knowing gaze leveled at Amalia. "Barbaric," he agreed in mock indignation and horror, fingers running over Jigano's skin in silent comfort, his free hand suddenly full of half a sweet roll. He took it with an eye-smile, a glimmer of sunshine from within, eating it in silence as his gaze slid to Jigano. He tried to look innocent, unaffected, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it: he looked sly and eager, waiting to see if he'd be baited into song or not.
