He watched Rory’s hands, long fingers calloused by a lifetime of hard work yet capable of such soothing gentleness. They were powerful hands, strong and sure in the fields and repairing fencing or skinning a deer, but then there were the times he reached out to the hounds or horses or his lover with such tenderness that Jigano could only marvel at them.
How often had others asked when Rory would go traveling? Always before Jigano had shrugged and said that the farmer was more stubborn than he was, that Rory would go when he was ready and not before. And aside from LongNight the bard was, in truth, perfectly content to have a home to return to and a lover to lay beside each night, even when all they did was nestle together in the dark.
”Mm. It would be nice to get away from the mud next year,” he agreed, his memories shying away from the blood and death and loss of the last Fiat Lux. He wondered if the festival would even be held for a few years, but if they were already on their way it wouldn’t much matter. ”Wouldn’t need much. Some changes of clothes, a pan and utensils for cooking over the fire… between my nose and your bow we could hunt as we went, or trade work for meals and a roof over our heads if the weather turns wet.”
It would be strange to go back to his wandering ways. Stranger still to do so with a partner by his side, one who held his heart with such quiet strength. Not bad, just… different. A good different, he allowed himself to hope with a warm glow of optimism lighting his smile, even if only Ella could see it. ”Amalia and Deimos might take care of the horses,” he suggested, considering Amalia’s fondness of the equines and Deimos’s unicorn companion.
How often had others asked when Rory would go traveling? Always before Jigano had shrugged and said that the farmer was more stubborn than he was, that Rory would go when he was ready and not before. And aside from LongNight the bard was, in truth, perfectly content to have a home to return to and a lover to lay beside each night, even when all they did was nestle together in the dark.
”Mm. It would be nice to get away from the mud next year,” he agreed, his memories shying away from the blood and death and loss of the last Fiat Lux. He wondered if the festival would even be held for a few years, but if they were already on their way it wouldn’t much matter. ”Wouldn’t need much. Some changes of clothes, a pan and utensils for cooking over the fire… between my nose and your bow we could hunt as we went, or trade work for meals and a roof over our heads if the weather turns wet.”
It would be strange to go back to his wandering ways. Stranger still to do so with a partner by his side, one who held his heart with such quiet strength. Not bad, just… different. A good different, he allowed himself to hope with a warm glow of optimism lighting his smile, even if only Ella could see it. ”Amalia and Deimos might take care of the horses,” he suggested, considering Amalia’s fondness of the equines and Deimos’s unicorn companion.
