The fox shivered in Rory's arms, knowing Amalia hadn't meant to hurt him, but her careless words and bitter anger had done so anyways. He was not a Northhavener 'them' but he wasn't a Natural 'us' either. And as he had ridden around on their shoulders for the past day, a silent, unknown raven listening to and watching the mob, it had become clear that most of those gathered didn't make any distinction between Northhaveners like Roana and Outlanders from any other place. If any had recognized him, if he had transformed into his human shape, he would have been beaten and cast out by those riled to anger and hate by Roana's actions, and not even Rory could have saved him without losing what control over the mob that he had. He was alone, in a way the Naturals could not imagine, nor the Northhaveners truly understand, with their close-knit clique of people they had known for years - or all their lives.
He had only those friendships he had forged in the past half-year, fresh and new and still so, so fragile...
But Rory's voice reached out to him, gentle and comforting, renewing their bond - as he had before he'd called the mob to order, taking the time to warn the fox and let him know that whatever words he spoke, Jigano was not one he saw as 'them.' And perhaps Amalia had not meant him in that way either... but she sat in sullen silence, offering no reassurance or comfort, no hand in friendship. She seemed almost angry at his pain--
And, once again, Jigano was reminded that he was supposed to be the strong one - had to be the strong one, the kind one, the forgiving one - because he had lost his right to deserve the comfort he was expected to give to others. Another scratch across his wounded heart, another scar reminding him of what he had earned... what he had taken willingly upon himself, when he had become what he hated and feared most.
And so he tucked it away, that pain, precious and aching. Tucked away the protests and the tears, the defenses he might have raised with any others for whom he cared for less than these two. Tucked away the frustration and the loneliness of being not merely Outlander but Outsider in a world so small and close-knit that he would always be instantly recognizable as such, so long as the Barrier stood. He tucked it away and he raised his nose to nuzzle at Rory's jaw, reassuring the weary blond who had endured far too much in too short a time, whose tears were still damp upon his cheeks and Jigano's fur. He tucked it away and he slid from the hunter's lap in an eeling motion of his lithe, slender little body, trotting around behind them both. He tucked it away as he shifted behind Amalia, out of her sight, still shy of others seeing him transform from fox to man or back again.
He tucked the pain away and deep into the tangled collection of shadows he called a heart as he stretched his arms around his two dear friends, holding them both in an awkward but sincere embrace. "I am sorry, Amalia," he murmured against the baker's hair, resting his cheek on her head. "I wasn't thinking. Can you forgive me?"
He had only those friendships he had forged in the past half-year, fresh and new and still so, so fragile...
But Rory's voice reached out to him, gentle and comforting, renewing their bond - as he had before he'd called the mob to order, taking the time to warn the fox and let him know that whatever words he spoke, Jigano was not one he saw as 'them.' And perhaps Amalia had not meant him in that way either... but she sat in sullen silence, offering no reassurance or comfort, no hand in friendship. She seemed almost angry at his pain--
And, once again, Jigano was reminded that he was supposed to be the strong one - had to be the strong one, the kind one, the forgiving one - because he had lost his right to deserve the comfort he was expected to give to others. Another scratch across his wounded heart, another scar reminding him of what he had earned... what he had taken willingly upon himself, when he had become what he hated and feared most.
And so he tucked it away, that pain, precious and aching. Tucked away the protests and the tears, the defenses he might have raised with any others for whom he cared for less than these two. Tucked away the frustration and the loneliness of being not merely Outlander but Outsider in a world so small and close-knit that he would always be instantly recognizable as such, so long as the Barrier stood. He tucked it away and he raised his nose to nuzzle at Rory's jaw, reassuring the weary blond who had endured far too much in too short a time, whose tears were still damp upon his cheeks and Jigano's fur. He tucked it away and he slid from the hunter's lap in an eeling motion of his lithe, slender little body, trotting around behind them both. He tucked it away as he shifted behind Amalia, out of her sight, still shy of others seeing him transform from fox to man or back again.
He tucked the pain away and deep into the tangled collection of shadows he called a heart as he stretched his arms around his two dear friends, holding them both in an awkward but sincere embrace. "I am sorry, Amalia," he murmured against the baker's hair, resting his cheek on her head. "I wasn't thinking. Can you forgive me?"
