Rory wasn't a very serious creature, at least not when he could afford to not be: he was the kind that would draw a mustache in charcoal on your face if you fell asleep around him, but in important matters—like loyalty, and empathy—he was an entirely different beast. He was whimsical, not shallow.
By the time the Luxere made it close enough to touch he had exhausted the story of the owlkitten's kingdom's rise. It was populated largely by her defeated enemies—brought to heel by her wit and charm and destroyed with snuggles, now reformed as masterful cuddlers and groomers—and her loyal, adoring subjects. Though, to be fair, her defeated enemies were also her loyal, adoring subjects these days, because who could resist this charming little creature? And in her palace burned candles and incense for her mythical Fox Guardian, a white spirit who was rarely seen but rumored to swipe down with relentless fury if she was ever threatened.
Not to mention—he sang slyly, looking at the fox—it was thought that she'd learned to so unashamedly enjoy scratches and cuddles from her elusive Guardian...
It may or may not have been accompanied by Rory trying to stroke its head and scratch its ears.
(It totally was.)
He was just mindlessly singing the gryphon's praises and virtues by the time she silenced. He sang for a little longer, not ending on a particularly grand note, mostly just fading out as he watched the young creature rear up. Without thinking about it he put one hand just below her chest, helping her balance as she put her claws on the reindeer's muzzle. He smiled, and then laughed gently as she fell over forward into his hand. "Easy there," he mumbled, reaching out a hand for the Luxere to sniff, before slowly touching the back of it to its cheek. It flinched a little, but as he wasn't about to eat it, it let him touch it, and after a couple of seconds was leaning into a nice jaw scratch. "Mmh, not so bad, eh?"
The fox's antics caught his eye, and—still scratching his newfound friend, the other hand curled around the gryphon—he turned to look. It seemed to be scratching itself vigorously, or.. no.. that wasn't right. It was pushing at its neck.. at the collar? And sure enough, the white fox popped out of the collar, grabbed it by the bag, and.. gave him one of those uncertain glances. Rory just waited, and the fox put the bag on his thigh.
It was for him?
Obviously it was for him to open at least.
His fingers stilled in their scratching. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, just shifted the owlkitten so she wouldn't fall off him when he let go of her. His heart was beating a lot faster than was warranted; his hand was almost shaking as he grabbed the little bag and opened it, letting whatever it was inside fall onto his upturned palm.
By the time the Luxere made it close enough to touch he had exhausted the story of the owlkitten's kingdom's rise. It was populated largely by her defeated enemies—brought to heel by her wit and charm and destroyed with snuggles, now reformed as masterful cuddlers and groomers—and her loyal, adoring subjects. Though, to be fair, her defeated enemies were also her loyal, adoring subjects these days, because who could resist this charming little creature? And in her palace burned candles and incense for her mythical Fox Guardian, a white spirit who was rarely seen but rumored to swipe down with relentless fury if she was ever threatened.
Not to mention—he sang slyly, looking at the fox—it was thought that she'd learned to so unashamedly enjoy scratches and cuddles from her elusive Guardian...
It may or may not have been accompanied by Rory trying to stroke its head and scratch its ears.
(It totally was.)
He was just mindlessly singing the gryphon's praises and virtues by the time she silenced. He sang for a little longer, not ending on a particularly grand note, mostly just fading out as he watched the young creature rear up. Without thinking about it he put one hand just below her chest, helping her balance as she put her claws on the reindeer's muzzle. He smiled, and then laughed gently as she fell over forward into his hand. "Easy there," he mumbled, reaching out a hand for the Luxere to sniff, before slowly touching the back of it to its cheek. It flinched a little, but as he wasn't about to eat it, it let him touch it, and after a couple of seconds was leaning into a nice jaw scratch. "Mmh, not so bad, eh?"
The fox's antics caught his eye, and—still scratching his newfound friend, the other hand curled around the gryphon—he turned to look. It seemed to be scratching itself vigorously, or.. no.. that wasn't right. It was pushing at its neck.. at the collar? And sure enough, the white fox popped out of the collar, grabbed it by the bag, and.. gave him one of those uncertain glances. Rory just waited, and the fox put the bag on his thigh.
It was for him?
Obviously it was for him to open at least.
His fingers stilled in their scratching. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, just shifted the owlkitten so she wouldn't fall off him when he let go of her. His heart was beating a lot faster than was warranted; his hand was almost shaking as he grabbed the little bag and opened it, letting whatever it was inside fall onto his upturned palm.
