stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
It was both surprising and the most natural thing in the world when Wessex handed him the hay bag. He took it barely without noticing, putting one hand in it to rustle the dried blades of grass and help the scent waft into the placid night air. His breath puffed into white clouds.
He could see the Luxere think, their jaws moving, their eyes moving, blinking, ears flicking, weighing the risks against the rewards. Another hesitant step closer, lured by the delicacy. It was all about finding out what they responded to, and the same could be applied to conversations with humans: find out their triggers, what made them wary, what drew them in, and it was rather easy to manipulate an encounter. At least, in theory—trying to think about how their eyes and shoulders changed when they were busy threatening you was stressful and rarely went well.
“Fine. I’m alive, right?” Wessex said after sitting down, and Rory grimaced. If Ascended were even alive to begin with.. but it seemed cruel to take a jab at her choices when they had clearly saved her life, and when he had no issue with it anyway. At least, he didn't think he had. He had never put much stock in the stories of Ascended being the monsters who brought this curse down upon them all, but he couldn't say he knew a whole lot about the race. Few had ever come his way.
But it seemed she was there for a reason, and strangely enough, that reason seemed to be him. First she asked how he was doing—when had she ever done that before, honestly—and now she inquired about his Long Night preparations. And whatever it was she wanted to get out past her teeth, it was difficult. Rory, rather merciless, tilted his face down at her and raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help himself: it wasn't every day you got to watch Wessex struggle with .. feelings? Basic decency? Compassion? Whatever it was that drove her tonight.
When she finally got the word out his other eyebrow joined the first. "Wessex," he said, amused, his voice light and very surprised—yet a smile was spreading across his face, and he laughed a little, though kindly, if such a thing was possible. "Are you—are you..?" He couldn't believe it. Wessex of all people? What had getting killed done to her?
But he decided to spare her the torment of having to actually answer that unfinished question, unless she chose to do it in the few seconds he was quiet. "I appreciate it. I really do. I'm quite ready, just trying to charm a few more of our glowing friends. Amalia will be coming over to stay with me. So..?" So if she was okay with that...
He looked back to the Luxere and made a clicking noise to catch their attention again, once more rustling the hay in the bag. It earned him a few more steps. Content with that, he glanced down at Wessex again. "What about you?"
He could see the Luxere think, their jaws moving, their eyes moving, blinking, ears flicking, weighing the risks against the rewards. Another hesitant step closer, lured by the delicacy. It was all about finding out what they responded to, and the same could be applied to conversations with humans: find out their triggers, what made them wary, what drew them in, and it was rather easy to manipulate an encounter. At least, in theory—trying to think about how their eyes and shoulders changed when they were busy threatening you was stressful and rarely went well.
“Fine. I’m alive, right?” Wessex said after sitting down, and Rory grimaced. If Ascended were even alive to begin with.. but it seemed cruel to take a jab at her choices when they had clearly saved her life, and when he had no issue with it anyway. At least, he didn't think he had. He had never put much stock in the stories of Ascended being the monsters who brought this curse down upon them all, but he couldn't say he knew a whole lot about the race. Few had ever come his way.
But it seemed she was there for a reason, and strangely enough, that reason seemed to be him. First she asked how he was doing—when had she ever done that before, honestly—and now she inquired about his Long Night preparations. And whatever it was she wanted to get out past her teeth, it was difficult. Rory, rather merciless, tilted his face down at her and raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help himself: it wasn't every day you got to watch Wessex struggle with .. feelings? Basic decency? Compassion? Whatever it was that drove her tonight.
When she finally got the word out his other eyebrow joined the first. "Wessex," he said, amused, his voice light and very surprised—yet a smile was spreading across his face, and he laughed a little, though kindly, if such a thing was possible. "Are you—are you..?" He couldn't believe it. Wessex of all people? What had getting killed done to her?
But he decided to spare her the torment of having to actually answer that unfinished question, unless she chose to do it in the few seconds he was quiet. "I appreciate it. I really do. I'm quite ready, just trying to charm a few more of our glowing friends. Amalia will be coming over to stay with me. So..?" So if she was okay with that...
He looked back to the Luxere and made a clicking noise to catch their attention again, once more rustling the hay in the bag. It earned him a few more steps. Content with that, he glanced down at Wessex again. "What about you?"
