To be so afraid of judgment...
White hair pooled on a white sheet, long and silken, so different from a fox's fur. Rory's free hand brushed absently across it for a moment, wondering if his easy dismissal of Jigano's fears were cruel, somehow, as if it was not acknowledging how much it affected him to tell. But what could he say? What could he do? Lie? It was too abstract for him to pass judgment on, when what he had in front of him was so easily translated to 'Attuned', and what he saw in front of him was not something that bothered him.
Even if his soul-stuff was different—or however a kitsune differed from an Attuned—Rory didn't think he'd particularly care.
His straying hand wandered over the long hair splayed across his thigh and then down to their hands, so that he held Jigano's trembling one with both of his. He wanted to say it's okay, to reach out and tilt his head up again, but whatever had just passed between them—Rory's acceptance—seemed to need some time. So he gave it willingly, letting the tips of his fingers wander absently across the back of Jigano's hand.
What Jigano apologized for he did not understand. Fear of rejection seemed to be universal, no matter the cause, and Rory had witnessed and experience plenty of it. "If the roles were reversed," he said quietly, giving his hand a little squeeze, "I would probably be daunted, too." He met those blue eyes, those blue, animal eyes, and he wondered what they were building.
Then his head tilted, slightly, and he winced as it tugged on unhealed, marred skin. "In what way don't you trust yourself?"
What am I missing?
White hair pooled on a white sheet, long and silken, so different from a fox's fur. Rory's free hand brushed absently across it for a moment, wondering if his easy dismissal of Jigano's fears were cruel, somehow, as if it was not acknowledging how much it affected him to tell. But what could he say? What could he do? Lie? It was too abstract for him to pass judgment on, when what he had in front of him was so easily translated to 'Attuned', and what he saw in front of him was not something that bothered him.
Even if his soul-stuff was different—or however a kitsune differed from an Attuned—Rory didn't think he'd particularly care.
His straying hand wandered over the long hair splayed across his thigh and then down to their hands, so that he held Jigano's trembling one with both of his. He wanted to say it's okay, to reach out and tilt his head up again, but whatever had just passed between them—Rory's acceptance—seemed to need some time. So he gave it willingly, letting the tips of his fingers wander absently across the back of Jigano's hand.
What Jigano apologized for he did not understand. Fear of rejection seemed to be universal, no matter the cause, and Rory had witnessed and experience plenty of it. "If the roles were reversed," he said quietly, giving his hand a little squeeze, "I would probably be daunted, too." He met those blue eyes, those blue, animal eyes, and he wondered what they were building.
Then his head tilted, slightly, and he winced as it tugged on unhealed, marred skin. "In what way don't you trust yourself?"
What am I missing?
