stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
But he wanted to think something of it: wanted, desperately, to somehow convey that Remi mattered to him. The apology lacing his words was left unsaid, unresolved, and Rory thought that trying to sharpening it into a finer point, to penetrate through the charming armor, might just cause more damage in the end.
So he allowed it to rest, an uneasy death-like slumber, a regret that he had not been at home the time Remi came calling. He would've liked to have been, found sorrow in the notion that he hadn't: that he had missed out on something.
But the reason for the visit chilled him to the bones, a frigid breath released across his grave. A mask? A mask that allowed him to see outside of the barrier? It was terrifying; it was daunting; it was exhilarating, and the words formed by Rory's mouth were what was it like, out there? but only silence passed his lips.
The throb of his heart was painful.
The loyalty of the dog struggling against its leash and collar.
He wanted to leap for the opportunity, to grasp it, hold it, firmly, firmly, to never let it go; to realize all his childhood dreams, to .. to know... To know what couldn't be known... To travel again to the dusty, lifeless expanse by the barrier, with the Alchemist, a vista that seemed almost fated to repeat time and time again.
"Remi, I'd love to see your half-completed ideas," he responded with a laugh, knowing that he had left the subject of the mask untouched. His reaction to it had been slight too, just his back tensing, his eyes growing equal measures cold and alight, and his fingers twisted among themselves and the bed sheets. "And then perhaps you could also show me the mask..."
The words were like dirt and ash upon his tongue, filth and grime, betrayal of something: acceptance of something else. He felt too tired and confused to make sense of it, knew only that he wanted, like he wanted so much else recently.
Then Remi spoke of leaving him, and though Rory's face fell at the words, he saw the wisdom in it. Hesitantly he reached up to stroke a lock of his blond hair back behind an ear, and he nodded slightly. "Yes, otherwise I suppose Isla might have a choice word or two about it... And you look like you could do with some cleaning up and sleep yourself, Remi. So you take care of yourself, alright, hm?"
So he allowed it to rest, an uneasy death-like slumber, a regret that he had not been at home the time Remi came calling. He would've liked to have been, found sorrow in the notion that he hadn't: that he had missed out on something.
But the reason for the visit chilled him to the bones, a frigid breath released across his grave. A mask? A mask that allowed him to see outside of the barrier? It was terrifying; it was daunting; it was exhilarating, and the words formed by Rory's mouth were what was it like, out there? but only silence passed his lips.
The throb of his heart was painful.
The loyalty of the dog struggling against its leash and collar.
He wanted to leap for the opportunity, to grasp it, hold it, firmly, firmly, to never let it go; to realize all his childhood dreams, to .. to know... To know what couldn't be known... To travel again to the dusty, lifeless expanse by the barrier, with the Alchemist, a vista that seemed almost fated to repeat time and time again.
"Remi, I'd love to see your half-completed ideas," he responded with a laugh, knowing that he had left the subject of the mask untouched. His reaction to it had been slight too, just his back tensing, his eyes growing equal measures cold and alight, and his fingers twisted among themselves and the bed sheets. "And then perhaps you could also show me the mask..."
The words were like dirt and ash upon his tongue, filth and grime, betrayal of something: acceptance of something else. He felt too tired and confused to make sense of it, knew only that he wanted, like he wanted so much else recently.
Then Remi spoke of leaving him, and though Rory's face fell at the words, he saw the wisdom in it. Hesitantly he reached up to stroke a lock of his blond hair back behind an ear, and he nodded slightly. "Yes, otherwise I suppose Isla might have a choice word or two about it... And you look like you could do with some cleaning up and sleep yourself, Remi. So you take care of yourself, alright, hm?"
