[DROP] ar hyd y nos

RORY

Was this what the world was like? His entire life, lived in a withering snow-globe wasteland, thinking that the forests around his farm were lush and alive and vibrant, that the creek meandering through the copse was sparkling and blue—brown, all of it, compared to this star-washed beauty.

And that something so fierce, so feral, so terrifying and powerful and majestic could exist: it was daunting and humbling and absolutely mind-blowing. Rory's distracted eyes barely registered the shadow falling behind the sheets of water, too busy trying to track the trajectory of each droplet—

What was he doing, on his dusty, barren farm? Life was out here—

(Respecting the Fae's home, for one. Remaining loyal to his birthplace and heritage, for another. And due to the first, no other options remained.)

Then a creature broke through the red pool's surface, just as haunting and beautiful as her song, and in a different time, perhaps as fierce as the waterfall behind her. Now, though, she just seemed.. sad. Lesser. Broken. Rory reluctantly switched his focus to her, taking in the outline of ribs and hips beneath the glittering scales—and the black rot she wept, like inky tears.

Within, that silent, aching howl turned into a scream.

The song swelled around him, and others moved, called to action by the sight. "Oh," Rory breathed as he watched: unicorns with their magic, star motes, harmonies to resonate with her song. "A swan song." His fingers folded around the hand in his, his heart aching, tears—transparent and cleansing, so different from the black of hers—forming in the corners of his eyes.

It was not okay. His gaze flicked into the pool, and he saw dark patches among the red. Dying, just like the trees around them. Dying, just like Undine.

He fixed his summer sky eyes on her, his voice directed at her, but soft all the same. "Would a change of habitat, to one uninfected, allow you to heal? Can we bring you anything, like food? Do you need warmth?" He assumed she was bred for the cool environment of this red pool, but disease changed one's needs—and if hugging a blighted mercreature to keep her warm as she either lived or died was what required of him, he'd do it. He knew about as much as anyone about the blight, but seeing it like this...

He wanted to stop it.

[ Rory asks her some things and offers her hugs. ]

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