stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
He began to suspect that his first impression of Isla had been very, very misleading. Thrust awkwardly into a new world entirely, the woman he had met that crisp autumn day in the forest had been.. not exactly uncertain, but a little hesitant. Wary. Soft-seeming, in her manners. That Isla had been nothing like the Isla he'd met in the dead of night, and that Isla was nothing like the unicorn standing by his bed with an air of impatience and boredom.
He tried to not feel sadness as he thought he would've liked to get to know her better, for she was still here, wasn't she? Just in another body, another shape, with Remi to translate her thoughts and ideas and impressions. If Rory had managed to cultivate a deep friendship with Jigano-as-a-fox for months, then surely getting to know Isla-the-unicorn better was not impossible?
And yet he couldn't help but wonder if her mind would dull over time, confined by the physique and instincts of her new body.
So perhaps it was a sad tale after all, but he was merely left with a feeling of both wonder and emptiness as the doctor brusquely clomped out of the room, likely hunting for Amalia. The timing was right for it, at least, and that was one thing Rory had understood even that first time: Isla was a dedicated medic.
"She's alright, physically," Rory said quietly, answering some unspoken question he sensed lingering in the air. Some of his sadness and worry bled into his voice. Amalia was mostly unhurt, as far as they could tell. Her only physical injury was a fox bite to the wrist. Whatever Edrei had done to her was invisible, but he thought the wound was in her soul still, bleeding and raw.
Left alone with Remi, Rory settled his attention on the other man again—marveling how much he could look like himself, when that mischievous glint came back into his eyes, despite the filth and grime and gore he was covered in. Something lurched familiarly in his gut, a little twist he knew very well, a sense of heart-ache and wistful longing as he watched the alchemist's face morph.
"Remember all those times now you have told me to be careful...and now here you are."
Called out on his foolishness and hypocrisy, Rory grimaced and averted his eyes. "Yeah, because I was an idiot, and not careful..." he responded with a wince, his fingers moving restlessly over each other. No pony mane to tangle them in; just another stab into his heart, into his memories. He really hoped they'd be alright...
Slowly, he brought his gaze up, looking for Remi's again. "When I say I was this close-" he showed less than half an inch between thumb and index finger "-to dying, I mean it. Amalia too. It was the singularly most stupid thing I've done in my entire life, and for like ten thousand different reasons. I ought to be dead, but I'm not, and I don't know what we gained or learned either.. if anything." He sighed.
He tried to not feel sadness as he thought he would've liked to get to know her better, for she was still here, wasn't she? Just in another body, another shape, with Remi to translate her thoughts and ideas and impressions. If Rory had managed to cultivate a deep friendship with Jigano-as-a-fox for months, then surely getting to know Isla-the-unicorn better was not impossible?
And yet he couldn't help but wonder if her mind would dull over time, confined by the physique and instincts of her new body.
So perhaps it was a sad tale after all, but he was merely left with a feeling of both wonder and emptiness as the doctor brusquely clomped out of the room, likely hunting for Amalia. The timing was right for it, at least, and that was one thing Rory had understood even that first time: Isla was a dedicated medic.
"She's alright, physically," Rory said quietly, answering some unspoken question he sensed lingering in the air. Some of his sadness and worry bled into his voice. Amalia was mostly unhurt, as far as they could tell. Her only physical injury was a fox bite to the wrist. Whatever Edrei had done to her was invisible, but he thought the wound was in her soul still, bleeding and raw.
Left alone with Remi, Rory settled his attention on the other man again—marveling how much he could look like himself, when that mischievous glint came back into his eyes, despite the filth and grime and gore he was covered in. Something lurched familiarly in his gut, a little twist he knew very well, a sense of heart-ache and wistful longing as he watched the alchemist's face morph.
"Remember all those times now you have told me to be careful...and now here you are."
Called out on his foolishness and hypocrisy, Rory grimaced and averted his eyes. "Yeah, because I was an idiot, and not careful..." he responded with a wince, his fingers moving restlessly over each other. No pony mane to tangle them in; just another stab into his heart, into his memories. He really hoped they'd be alright...
Slowly, he brought his gaze up, looking for Remi's again. "When I say I was this close-" he showed less than half an inch between thumb and index finger "-to dying, I mean it. Amalia too. It was the singularly most stupid thing I've done in my entire life, and for like ten thousand different reasons. I ought to be dead, but I'm not, and I don't know what we gained or learned either.. if anything." He sighed.
