He was all too aware of the tunic he wore, and how inadequate it was, in more ways than one. Freed from the spell that had lured him from his bed he felt the night chill press in against his skin. It crawled in underneath the cloak.
Unsurprisingly, one of the first things he saw once he lifted his face from the soil was Jigano. His silver hair shone in the dark, his blue eyes grayed out—heat and a sense of dread filled Rory. The flush climbed in his cheeks. His eyes studied the sparse spring vegetation under Jigano's boots. Between the night and his fire-scare he was trembling, a lingering sort of shivering.
He knew that the concern, the offered hand, even Amalia's cloak, came from a place of love, of good intentions, but all he wanted to do was erase the night from everyone's memory. Rory, dreamwalking; Rory, falling through the fire; Rory, laying face down on the earth as his heart raced pitifully.
Rory, the rabbit chased by the wolf.
"I hate surprise fire," he said to the earth, his voice calm and factual, his scars slithering like snakes over his night-bleached skin.
But staying as he was wasn't going to get him back home. He could hate the position he was in as much as he wanted, but that wasn't going to get him back home either. So, he breathed in, and used Jigano's body as the shield it clearly was meant to be. Slowly he pulled himself onto his knees and one hand, the other smoothing the tunic down over his exposed thighs. (He hated how his breath still trembled oh so slightly when he pulled it in.) Then he pulled the cloak around him and took Jigano's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
"Get me out of here," he begged quietly, a wild-eyed animal trapped in an unfamiliar place.
Unsurprisingly, one of the first things he saw once he lifted his face from the soil was Jigano. His silver hair shone in the dark, his blue eyes grayed out—heat and a sense of dread filled Rory. The flush climbed in his cheeks. His eyes studied the sparse spring vegetation under Jigano's boots. Between the night and his fire-scare he was trembling, a lingering sort of shivering.
He knew that the concern, the offered hand, even Amalia's cloak, came from a place of love, of good intentions, but all he wanted to do was erase the night from everyone's memory. Rory, dreamwalking; Rory, falling through the fire; Rory, laying face down on the earth as his heart raced pitifully.
Rory, the rabbit chased by the wolf.
"I hate surprise fire," he said to the earth, his voice calm and factual, his scars slithering like snakes over his night-bleached skin.
But staying as he was wasn't going to get him back home. He could hate the position he was in as much as he wanted, but that wasn't going to get him back home either. So, he breathed in, and used Jigano's body as the shield it clearly was meant to be. Slowly he pulled himself onto his knees and one hand, the other smoothing the tunic down over his exposed thighs. (He hated how his breath still trembled oh so slightly when he pulled it in.) Then he pulled the cloak around him and took Jigano's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
"Get me out of here," he begged quietly, a wild-eyed animal trapped in an unfamiliar place.
