stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
He wasn't going to force his help on her; he'd offered, and he meant it, the rest was up to her. He didn't doubt that she'd be fine on her own. "Alright," he said, and there wasn't any more to it than that: no relief, no disappointment. Then she had gone where she meant to, and Rory could see why. It was the kind of place he'd been meaning to find, knowing there were several in the area, but having her to guide him had saved him the problem of stumbling around in the dark.
So he sidled past her and began to pick up suitable forest-debris, too. "That seems like a good thing," he said, thinking about Remi and the questions about getting away, getting out: did Remi feel more part of it, too? Would Isla be content if the rest of her life played out here, in their cage? But it wasn't really the time to be asking.
Instead he laughed, lightly, gently, stacking the branches beneath one arm. "No, that would be unfortunate and a setback," he agreed. And truth to be told, he didn't feel like he was burning out, more like he was .. grieving, and in a way, he was. He was losing the last bits of the life he'd had, the life he'd grown up with. Change came for you sooner or later, but this one came hard.
"You're probably a blessing to this place," he said brightly. Rory rarely got sick, and if he hurt himself, it was usually just bloody, but minor. Nothing that required a healer's expertise, so his experience with them was rather limited. "I bet there's loads of treatments and things you know that no one in here knew." Not only because they were in a backwater bubble.. Rory sighed softly in the dark, rubbing the back of a hand across his forehead, before resuming his foraging.
"Isla, do.. would you.. would you say that you're happy here?"
He asked it gently, tentatively; a thing he feared, a thing he wanted to know, a thing that threatened to sit like rubble and block his mouth unless he put it into the air between them.
So he did, and then he held his breath, waiting.
So he sidled past her and began to pick up suitable forest-debris, too. "That seems like a good thing," he said, thinking about Remi and the questions about getting away, getting out: did Remi feel more part of it, too? Would Isla be content if the rest of her life played out here, in their cage? But it wasn't really the time to be asking.
Instead he laughed, lightly, gently, stacking the branches beneath one arm. "No, that would be unfortunate and a setback," he agreed. And truth to be told, he didn't feel like he was burning out, more like he was .. grieving, and in a way, he was. He was losing the last bits of the life he'd had, the life he'd grown up with. Change came for you sooner or later, but this one came hard.
"You're probably a blessing to this place," he said brightly. Rory rarely got sick, and if he hurt himself, it was usually just bloody, but minor. Nothing that required a healer's expertise, so his experience with them was rather limited. "I bet there's loads of treatments and things you know that no one in here knew." Not only because they were in a backwater bubble.. Rory sighed softly in the dark, rubbing the back of a hand across his forehead, before resuming his foraging.
"Isla, do.. would you.. would you say that you're happy here?"
He asked it gently, tentatively; a thing he feared, a thing he wanted to know, a thing that threatened to sit like rubble and block his mouth unless he put it into the air between them.
So he did, and then he held his breath, waiting.
