RORY
"Thank you," he responded quietly as she fussed with flowers and feathers, patient and bewildered; he had a rather extravagant streak, encouraged by his mother, causing his sister to roll her eyes, and mostly everyone to agree that it was a good thing that his father wasn't alive to witness it. He enjoyed messing about with his appearance when he had a reason to, which wasn't all that often. Fiat Lux was an excellent opportunity.When she pulled her hands back he straightened up again, his gaze tinged, darkly, by the uncertainty—concern, even, though it didn't take a genius to figure it out.
Then she said what was on her mind, and Rory felt two things: one was his heart sinking, the other was the very strong urge to slap himself. Idiot. Of course it was that; of course it was his whole business of riling up the Naturals against the Outlanders, him decrying their everything, pretty much, calling them .. whatever it was he had called them. Probably something akin to ticks, though in a lot more words.
"Oh, Phoebe," he said, tired and sad and worn all of a sudden, a million years old and with a thousand pounds weighing on each shoulder. He didn't interrupt her when she went on, but raised the tankard to his lips to take another sip of it.
He admired her bravery. It took strength to seek out someone you thought disliked you, to reach your hand out in peace and friendship even as you feared the other would scorn it, and spit on it. "I'm not upset at all by you being here," he said quietly. This was different from the icy shock of the Outlanders being at the Festival of Lights, too new and sudden, and to top it all off: stealing the prize they all sought. It was the first time he had spoken out against the Outlanders, a quiet complaint to Wessex. "And you're right. I don't feel very fun right now." There was a little of the wolf in him, then: the sharpness of his eyes, the edges in his voice.
Then he sighed.
"I know what all I said sounded like." Absently he moved his hand in small circles, watching the light beer swirl and slosh. "And while I was very, mmh.. upset with what was happening, and how it was being handled and decided, I have no problems with Outlanders. It was just .. a convenient way to get people together, to try and stop things."
Not that he had succeeded, anyway. It disturbed him to wonder about what else he had inadvertently broken, the thought like an uncomfortable garment, wet and warm, clinging to his skin.
as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
