Jigano knew he’d misunderstood something when Rory grimaced. They were too close, too aware of each other, to miss the way the other man blushed, but it could have meant so many things – embarrassment, anger, discomfort – and the sometimes-fox tried to ignore the way his own heartbeat increased in reaction to it. ”The deer would argue differently,” he teased gently, remembering their group hunting trip. ”I rather desperately wish I’d been more useless, myself, when it came to hurting you and Amalia.” The joke hurt, striking far too close to the truth and leaving a chill in his bones at what might have been if his rage-maddened instincts had gone for eyes or throats. It was a blessing, at least in this, to have had the power to help but not to harm… but Rory knew the effects of the monsters in their heads, and if he could forgive the fox, maybe Jigano could start to forgive himself.
He couldn’t know what was going through the blond hunter’s head; the memories he had yet to hear about, the past he wanted to spend weeks and seasons and years learning. But he could at least give his friend the time to think while his pulse fluttered like a hummingbird through his veins, hoping that his cowardice wouldn’t turn the hunter’s quiet strength away from him.
Fearful that it might.
Fox’s ears caught the soft voice and the understanding that struck quiet harmonies within him. Fox’s eyes caught the movement from the edge of his vision of a hand that rose once more to capture his chin. He had never been more willing to be trapped, though, and while pale lashes fluttered closed for a moment as he drank in the warmth of his friend’s touch the intensity in Rory’s voice captured his gaze once more, with a wisdom that tugged sweetly, painfully, on the strings of his own heart. ”Yes,” he agreed simply, a wealth of meaning in that single word. The past few seasons had brought him to Caido, had turned him from a Fae to a human and stolen his magic… but had given him new friends, new purpose, and someone who showed him a glimmer of light through the armor he’d placed around his heart, the darkness he’d chosen as atonement, seeing no other options. To protect others… to protect himself… to honor the memories of the fallen…
But at what cost?
Nor was Rory finished speaking, his words chasing Jigano’s thoughts and turning them away from the chasm he had teetered on the edge of. The touch against his heart – truer than the hunter knew, physical fingers pressing warmth to the Attuned’s chest and deeper still, to something less tangible and far more fragile – called him back to the present-
called him home
-and he found himself smiling, ears relaxing back. It was the most natural thing then to lift his hand from Isuma, to lean closer so he could caress gentle fingers over Rory’s cheek and brush a strand of burnished gold back behind his friend’s ear, though he let his touch linger. ”Yes,” he said again, more softly but with far more warmth and something suspiciously like hope in voice and eyes both.
He couldn’t know what was going through the blond hunter’s head; the memories he had yet to hear about, the past he wanted to spend weeks and seasons and years learning. But he could at least give his friend the time to think while his pulse fluttered like a hummingbird through his veins, hoping that his cowardice wouldn’t turn the hunter’s quiet strength away from him.
Fearful that it might.
Fox’s ears caught the soft voice and the understanding that struck quiet harmonies within him. Fox’s eyes caught the movement from the edge of his vision of a hand that rose once more to capture his chin. He had never been more willing to be trapped, though, and while pale lashes fluttered closed for a moment as he drank in the warmth of his friend’s touch the intensity in Rory’s voice captured his gaze once more, with a wisdom that tugged sweetly, painfully, on the strings of his own heart. ”Yes,” he agreed simply, a wealth of meaning in that single word. The past few seasons had brought him to Caido, had turned him from a Fae to a human and stolen his magic… but had given him new friends, new purpose, and someone who showed him a glimmer of light through the armor he’d placed around his heart, the darkness he’d chosen as atonement, seeing no other options. To protect others… to protect himself… to honor the memories of the fallen…
But at what cost?
Nor was Rory finished speaking, his words chasing Jigano’s thoughts and turning them away from the chasm he had teetered on the edge of. The touch against his heart – truer than the hunter knew, physical fingers pressing warmth to the Attuned’s chest and deeper still, to something less tangible and far more fragile – called him back to the present-
-and he found himself smiling, ears relaxing back. It was the most natural thing then to lift his hand from Isuma, to lean closer so he could caress gentle fingers over Rory’s cheek and brush a strand of burnished gold back behind his friend’s ear, though he let his touch linger. ”Yes,” he said again, more softly but with far more warmth and something suspiciously like hope in voice and eyes both.
