"I don't know," Jigano admitted wryly, his customary humor providing a shield of sorts from more dangerous emotions. "I've seen the Voice twice, but she wanted nothing to do with me. I've yet to meet Safrin or Frey, and not sure I want to." His humor faded as swiftly as it had come as he glanced back up to meet Rory's eyes, breath catching in his throat. "I... didn't know Ludo had given you a lantern," he said slowly, thoughts racing. "I... wanted to..." His throat seemed to close on the words and he bowed his head, his world shrinking to memories of shadows, and the warmth of a hand wrapped around his. "Ask me," he said quietly, the words catching on his tongue as a lifetime of keeping secrets fought with an impulse to trust someone who hadn't let him go in spite of all he hadn't said. "When we stand in the sunlight again... ask me what I bargained for." He'd be ready by then, he hoped, to speak. But in the darkness of Long Night that weighed them down and with the wounds of his own teeth still fresh upon Rory's shoulder he didn't have the strength to admit his hubris to his friend.
Instead he spoke of another world, another time, of light and power and song and things he had lost. Things he had consoled himself that he didn't need anymore, until, of course, he did need them and they were out of reach. Would Rory understand what it meant, to fight and run and fight again? To watch allies cut down and face monsters that sometimes walked on eight legs, and sometimes walked on two and smiled like men but weren't, not anymore?
Gods most fortunate, he hoped not. He never wanted that for any of his friends on Caido, but especially not the hunter who had become something dangerously more than a friend.
"It was," he agreed, and when he smiled he didn't hide the sadness in it. "There are times it's easier to bear than others, though." When Edy laughed at one of his jokes, or Sam brought him a new book he'd found, bright and eager through his stutter, or when Rory smiled at something he'd done, blue eyes crinkling down at a white fox in the leaves or snow...
No longer just a fox, and Jigano winced at the question he had expected and dreaded. "Humans weren't alone on my world," he tried to explain, fingers tense in Rory's grasp. "There were lots of other people, too. Tall elves with pointed ears who lived centuries, stout dwarves with an affinity for stone and immense strength, goblins with green skin and sharp teeth and too-large heads... and others. Many others. I... don't know how much sense that makes to you, here," he admitted, catching Rory's gaze with a helpless sort of shrug. "But my family was... I was... born as a shapeshifter. Born, not chosen. My people are kitsune, fox folk, neither beast nor man but holding parts of both in our souls." He tried to smile, but the expression faded before it reached his eyes as he watched Rory for any hint of his reaction. "But my parents had traveled a long way from their homeland, and kitsune weren't common in Numeria. Humans are many, though. So they taught me to hide my nature from a young age, to blend in as a human boy. It was... safer that way. A blow that might be killing for a human isn't, quite, for my folk, so pretending to be something other saved my life a few times. Saved my friends' lives, too, when someone decided to shoot at the 'human,' thinking I'd be easier meat," he admitted, a touch ruefully. "I... don't know if that changes things... between us," he added, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "I'm human now, at least. Whatever gods brought me through the portal saw to that." And he'd pray to any and all of them if that was enough for the quiet hunter by his side to let him stay there, sharing warmth and secrets in the dark.
Instead he spoke of another world, another time, of light and power and song and things he had lost. Things he had consoled himself that he didn't need anymore, until, of course, he did need them and they were out of reach. Would Rory understand what it meant, to fight and run and fight again? To watch allies cut down and face monsters that sometimes walked on eight legs, and sometimes walked on two and smiled like men but weren't, not anymore?
Gods most fortunate, he hoped not. He never wanted that for any of his friends on Caido, but especially not the hunter who had become something dangerously more than a friend.
"It was," he agreed, and when he smiled he didn't hide the sadness in it. "There are times it's easier to bear than others, though." When Edy laughed at one of his jokes, or Sam brought him a new book he'd found, bright and eager through his stutter, or when Rory smiled at something he'd done, blue eyes crinkling down at a white fox in the leaves or snow...
No longer just a fox, and Jigano winced at the question he had expected and dreaded. "Humans weren't alone on my world," he tried to explain, fingers tense in Rory's grasp. "There were lots of other people, too. Tall elves with pointed ears who lived centuries, stout dwarves with an affinity for stone and immense strength, goblins with green skin and sharp teeth and too-large heads... and others. Many others. I... don't know how much sense that makes to you, here," he admitted, catching Rory's gaze with a helpless sort of shrug. "But my family was... I was... born as a shapeshifter. Born, not chosen. My people are kitsune, fox folk, neither beast nor man but holding parts of both in our souls." He tried to smile, but the expression faded before it reached his eyes as he watched Rory for any hint of his reaction. "But my parents had traveled a long way from their homeland, and kitsune weren't common in Numeria. Humans are many, though. So they taught me to hide my nature from a young age, to blend in as a human boy. It was... safer that way. A blow that might be killing for a human isn't, quite, for my folk, so pretending to be something other saved my life a few times. Saved my friends' lives, too, when someone decided to shoot at the 'human,' thinking I'd be easier meat," he admitted, a touch ruefully. "I... don't know if that changes things... between us," he added, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "I'm human now, at least. Whatever gods brought me through the portal saw to that." And he'd pray to any and all of them if that was enough for the quiet hunter by his side to let him stay there, sharing warmth and secrets in the dark.
