He knew from the tension in the silence that he had said the wrong thing, but he had meant the words, meant that he would help however he could, however Rory needed him to. He wrapped his arm more tightly around his partner, friend and lover, needing to hold him close and feel that he was still here, still alive in the dawn and a part of the bard's life. They had lived together for seasons now, and still he learned more about the man who held his heart every day. There was usually joy in that discovery, but sometimes there was pain.
As long as Rory didn't pull away, Jigano would hold him close, offering the warmth of his body and the strength of his shoulder for his mate to lean on, turning his head to press his lips to blond hair at the despair in the voice that always called him home. His heart contracted at the ache in that voice, though, the loss and self-recrimination that twisted through the shadows between each word. Karlia was a mystery to him, her disappearance a wound he didn't know how to heal, but her return? Of her ghost or her doppelganger, the sweet nightmare that had called to Rory through the door, it was a cruelty almost beyond bearing.
"Yes," he said softly, agreeing with the man who knew his sister best, because Jigano had no idea of her and what she would or wouldn't have done. He couldn't imagine anyone willingly being so unkind as to taunt her brother at the door during LongNight and then not be there when the sun rose, but he still would have tried to find her if Rory had asked. Now, though... now he wanted to make a pot of tea to ease Rory's raw throat and bundle him back to bed to rest in the safety of the sun's light after the week of darkness that had nearly killed them both. It would require moving, though, and that was something he wasn't willing to do yet as he cradled his love against him.
"Thank you," he said instead, closing his eyes as he focused solely on the feel of Rory, solid and warm and real against him. "For being here. For not leaving me behind." He didn't want to think anymore of what he might have found: an empty house, a cold fire, hounds and horses unfed and no footprints in the melting snow. His own wandering feet roamed to the Settlement and beyond, stalking the breadth of the Hollowed Grounds still, but every night hooves or wings or paws brought him home again, to wrap around the man who gave him peace and filled his heart with joy even when the world threatened to fall apart around them. "So many were already lost this year..." Caiside's death hurt the most, for he could have prevented it if only he'd acted sooner, opened the door faster... but he had grieved during the long week after his friend's death, and he turned all of his attention on Rory now, rubbing his partner's side slowly in silent comfort.
As long as Rory didn't pull away, Jigano would hold him close, offering the warmth of his body and the strength of his shoulder for his mate to lean on, turning his head to press his lips to blond hair at the despair in the voice that always called him home. His heart contracted at the ache in that voice, though, the loss and self-recrimination that twisted through the shadows between each word. Karlia was a mystery to him, her disappearance a wound he didn't know how to heal, but her return? Of her ghost or her doppelganger, the sweet nightmare that had called to Rory through the door, it was a cruelty almost beyond bearing.
"Yes," he said softly, agreeing with the man who knew his sister best, because Jigano had no idea of her and what she would or wouldn't have done. He couldn't imagine anyone willingly being so unkind as to taunt her brother at the door during LongNight and then not be there when the sun rose, but he still would have tried to find her if Rory had asked. Now, though... now he wanted to make a pot of tea to ease Rory's raw throat and bundle him back to bed to rest in the safety of the sun's light after the week of darkness that had nearly killed them both. It would require moving, though, and that was something he wasn't willing to do yet as he cradled his love against him.
"Thank you," he said instead, closing his eyes as he focused solely on the feel of Rory, solid and warm and real against him. "For being here. For not leaving me behind." He didn't want to think anymore of what he might have found: an empty house, a cold fire, hounds and horses unfed and no footprints in the melting snow. His own wandering feet roamed to the Settlement and beyond, stalking the breadth of the Hollowed Grounds still, but every night hooves or wings or paws brought him home again, to wrap around the man who gave him peace and filled his heart with joy even when the world threatened to fall apart around them. "So many were already lost this year..." Caiside's death hurt the most, for he could have prevented it if only he'd acted sooner, opened the door faster... but he had grieved during the long week after his friend's death, and he turned all of his attention on Rory now, rubbing his partner's side slowly in silent comfort.
