It wasn't strange that Rory had rarely found himself alone since Long Night: the appearance of a (monster) memory?—wearing Karlia's voice and scent had been.. well. Soul-crushing, for him, worrying, for others.
He still hadn't quite brought himself to admit to anyone just how close to killing himself he had come. Perhaps they had seen it in his eyes when they had come to check on him in dawn's pale light, or perhaps that clarity had hurt too much, and they had turned their gaze away from it.
Rory hadn't asked.
Didn't want to know.
He still hurt in so many ways, but it all seemed foolish. Desperate. Hopeful and hopeless. He swallowed, hands on the kitchen counter, eyes on nothing. Jigano had left only recently, to attend some matter or another.
Rory didn't care.
Oh, he cared, about Jigano, about Jigano's safety, but ever since the whole debacle with Kings and Queens had began, he had found himself turning away from the world and society. The Greatwood loomed with all its life and intricate secrets and mythical allure, lush and thriving, but he did not care. Some new portal had opened. Rory did not care.
Wessex had attacked Jigano for some bloody reason.
Rory cared, but he forgot about that detail most of the time. It hurt too much to think about, and he did not know the whys and the hows, for he had not seen Wessex in far too long. She was busy ruling her kingdom, and he was busy trying to justify his own continued existence to himself. Not much had been enjoyable to him lately.
So he simply stared dead ahead, lost in his own miserable thoughts, until Vaya gave her usual someone's here and it's okay bark. For a second he thought it was Jigano coming back for something, but no one came to the door. With a frown Rory pushed off the counter and padded over to the door, slipping out onto the porch into the oncoming dark.
A thrill traveled down his spine.
It wasn't the same as letting the darkness of the night murder you, but it was a whisper of what it would've been like, a trace of it, like a cold breath down your neck.
He still hadn't quite brought himself to admit to anyone just how close to killing himself he had come. Perhaps they had seen it in his eyes when they had come to check on him in dawn's pale light, or perhaps that clarity had hurt too much, and they had turned their gaze away from it.
Rory hadn't asked.
Didn't want to know.
He still hurt in so many ways, but it all seemed foolish. Desperate. Hopeful and hopeless. He swallowed, hands on the kitchen counter, eyes on nothing. Jigano had left only recently, to attend some matter or another.
Rory didn't care.
Oh, he cared, about Jigano, about Jigano's safety, but ever since the whole debacle with Kings and Queens had began, he had found himself turning away from the world and society. The Greatwood loomed with all its life and intricate secrets and mythical allure, lush and thriving, but he did not care. Some new portal had opened. Rory did not care.
Wessex had attacked Jigano for some bloody reason.
Rory cared, but he forgot about that detail most of the time. It hurt too much to think about, and he did not know the whys and the hows, for he had not seen Wessex in far too long. She was busy ruling her kingdom, and he was busy trying to justify his own continued existence to himself. Not much had been enjoyable to him lately.
So he simply stared dead ahead, lost in his own miserable thoughts, until Vaya gave her usual someone's here and it's okay bark. For a second he thought it was Jigano coming back for something, but no one came to the door. With a frown Rory pushed off the counter and padded over to the door, slipping out onto the porch into the oncoming dark.
A thrill traveled down his spine.
It wasn't the same as letting the darkness of the night murder you, but it was a whisper of what it would've been like, a trace of it, like a cold breath down your neck.
