Reckless and stupid: surprisingly often, yes. Bold and independent: not quite so often. That was Rory with the same characteristics applied, so perhaps they balanced each other quite nicely into a mix that didn't entirely have their best interests at heart.
He had been out mending some fencing in one of the furthest fields when he'd seen Wessex walk past in the distance, looking resolute and determined and heading straight in an entirely useless direction. Why go west? There was nothing there. Jigano had told him as much. If you were unlucky, you found short and angry people that wanted to kill you, though Rory certainly hoped there was only one of those and she had already been found, so...
With a sigh he had retreated back to the farm, tacking himself up: hunting leathers, bow and quiver full of arrows, hunting knife. Small pack with supplies, like smoked and salted meat, some apples and water. He told his ponies and dogs and goats that they were all good, and then he set off after her.
Worst case scenario: he wouldn't find her, or she'd turn out to not be up to no good. Then he'd just take off on a hunt, was the right time of day for it anyway. He might be hard-pressed if he didn't find any trails fast and the darkness came in, but eh. It was okay.
When he found Wessex she stood around as if waiting for someone, and maybe she was. With her was a stranger, someone Rory had seen around a couple of times but had never really interacted with. Cocking his head to the side Rory hung back a few steps, looking warily from one to the other. "Am I interrupting something?"
He had been out mending some fencing in one of the furthest fields when he'd seen Wessex walk past in the distance, looking resolute and determined and heading straight in an entirely useless direction. Why go west? There was nothing there. Jigano had told him as much. If you were unlucky, you found short and angry people that wanted to kill you, though Rory certainly hoped there was only one of those and she had already been found, so...
With a sigh he had retreated back to the farm, tacking himself up: hunting leathers, bow and quiver full of arrows, hunting knife. Small pack with supplies, like smoked and salted meat, some apples and water. He told his ponies and dogs and goats that they were all good, and then he set off after her.
Worst case scenario: he wouldn't find her, or she'd turn out to not be up to no good. Then he'd just take off on a hunt, was the right time of day for it anyway. He might be hard-pressed if he didn't find any trails fast and the darkness came in, but eh. It was okay.
When he found Wessex she stood around as if waiting for someone, and maybe she was. With her was a stranger, someone Rory had seen around a couple of times but had never really interacted with. Cocking his head to the side Rory hung back a few steps, looking warily from one to the other. "Am I interrupting something?"
