[PQ] Semper Fidelis

RORY

Did they think he wouldn't be watching?

Rory's stomach was a nest of wolves and vipers, nerves and anger and .. a restless energy that had him up, awake, in the dark. There was no starlight, no moonshine, only the sort of quiet, heavy darkness that blotted everything out, and ate the sounds. There was no crisp light to cast shadows even in the dark.

He couldn't sleep in the day, for people still saw to him as some form of leader, at least those who stayed by the Spire, stubborn or perhaps merely wanting blood. And he couldn't sleep at night, for the thoughts chased themselves round and round inside his skull, and his heart pounded and his lungs gasped and his nerves made him shiver and shake.

And he knew that it was only a matter of time before someone took things into their own hands, and .. what then? He could look the other way, absolve himself of all guilt and responsibility, and let whatever happened happen. Who was he, to champion the gods that had abandoned him? Who was he, to uphold the will of the gods in their absence? (It was what he ought to do)

And yet he stood there in the dark, eyes intense in a sleepless way, breathing into the night air that was still chilly with the memory of winter's bite. A lonely figure, a ghost in the black, his leather coat whispering to the rhythm of his breath.

And the shadows moved—

And he knew that in his heart, he had been right.

They were like oil spill, slick and hard to see except at the right angle, moving with a grace that only predators possessed: dark things, in their essence. His heart and his hands hurt, and felt cold.

So it had come to this.

He was not as fast as them, not as deadly, but he was nimble and agile and then he was there, not caring about those he did not know, his blue eyes haunted, sad, as he gazed across at her. At Wessex. At the woman who had offered to stay with him for Long Night, who had made him a fire when she found him wandering his own fucking house like an idiot, who had.. he found himself blinking his glassy stare away.

"Wessex," he said quietly, knowing that he didn't have a chance in hell at stopping five Ascended, and that trying to rouse the mob would just...

So he was no better than any of them.

He didn't know what else to say.

[ Rory isn't taking a spot, obviously. ]

as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.