He had expected Rory to join him at the table, but the hunter had a way of surprising him. Isuma was surprised as well, but delighted to have someone come down to the floor to play with her. She abandoned her stick to wriggle to her feet and bound over to the blond man, attempting to pounce into his lap and reep! quietly for cuddles as she snuggled against him, careful of her growing talons. Jigano’s smile softened as he watched them both and let the quiet joy of the moment settle around his heart.
The offer, when it came, caught him off-guard and he blinked for a moment in surprise before his smile grew once more. He pushed away from the chair and shrugged out of his pack before he made his way over to the fire, settling near his friend and his companion on the hearth. Rory’s smile as he spoke of Bakshi was irresistible, and in truth Jigano made no effort to fight it. ”May I?” he murmured, holding out his hand for Rory’s with an answering smile. If he was allowed, he would take the cold hand that had brushed his cheek earlier and begin to gently chafe warmth back into it as they sat and waited for the soup to cook.
”I think that I would very much like to learn to ride,” he answered properly at last with a warm voice full of gratitude at the offer, in no great hurry to rush their conversation along. They had all day, after all, and after the way Rory had looked when he had arrived, he didn’t think the blond would appreciate being pushed, even if he had woken from his daze. ”If I can learn here, with you and your ponies.” He chuckled ruefully, glancing at Isuma and her antics as she tried to coax Rory into scratching her fuzzy tummy, rolled onto her back with wings tucked against her sides. ”Perhaps Bakshi and I would make a good pair.” He tilted his head, considering the times he had seen his friend with a horse before Long Night. ”Talys… she’s your favorite, isn’t she? It would be nice… to ride together with you and her again,” he said softly, glancing slyly to his friend and remembering the snowy ride on her saddle blanket, back from the Settlement one night. Idly, he wondered if it would be more comfortable to ride in front instead, nestled against Rory’s stomach… an image he had to distract himself from by reaching up to push his hair firmly back before returning his hand to the hunter’s, if he had been allowed to hold it. He really should have pulled it back into a tail… but the memory of Rory’s fingers tucking a tress so carefully back behind his ear was reason enough to leave it loose.
"Oof," he said as he got a gryphon careening onto his lap, talons and paws pressing against his thighs; it didn't hurt, because she didn't weigh all that much. It was more for the drama of it, and then she was more or less flopping over anyway. He put his hands in her mix of fur-and-feathers, allowing her to nestle between his waist and one of his arms, if she so wanted to.
He did his best not to watch Jigano, because he was too aware of the grace with which he moved—how the sunlight played over his shoulders as he shrugged out of the pack—just the shape of him drifting through Rory's house. He saw it from the corner of his eye, his mood a complicated thing he did not have the energy to untangle, so he busied himself with stroking the owlkitten in his lap. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed bothering cat paws by poking his finger into the 'hole' between their pads and wiggling their paw around.
The distraction with Isuma's paws only worked as long as Jigano wasn't sitting next to him, which he soon was. Rory's gaze flickered up, almost shyly, then back down to the creature he was cuddling. The extended had and subsequent request earned Jigano a brief, confused look. Was he asking for his companion..? But that didn't make much sense. Slightly mystified he went with his second best guess, which was one of his own hands, and either it had been the correct answer, or Jigano just went with it, because he soon found strong, deft fingers working over his cold skin.
He shivered slightly, from the touch as much as from the cold and the words. "Of course," he confirmed; it was hard to teach someone to ride without something to ride, wasn't it? No number of explanations could prepare your body for the balancing, the giving and the taking, the feeling of a living, breathing creature moving beneath you.
It was less staying on, more staying with.
"A mother does not have a favorite child," he responded to Jigano's guess. Though his voice was absent and trailing his expression was not; it had been meant as a joke, he'd just failed to put enough energy into his voice. Then one of the hands cupping his disappeared, and he put his free hand in the fur on Isuma's belly, giving it a wiggle. "But.. yes, she is my favorite. There's just something about her." She was also the first foal that was well and truly his, the first after his mother had died. "She would be good for learning on, too. Bakshi is nice and willing and uncomplicated, but he can be a bit skittish if he's got one of those days. Talys is more sensible, but she can be stubborn if she thinks you're being stupid. We've disagreed about things a fair few times." He considered it for a moment. Jigano was tall, but slender. Talys was more compact than Bakshi, but Bakshi was slightly taller. Either would work for him to learn on, really.
"The only one I wouldn't put you on is Esaia. She's still young, and reeeeaaaally uncomfortable."
Isuma purred as he scratched and petted at her, little paws waving in the air in sweet, simple joy. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, perfectly happy to be held close - and offering her own small warmth as well, feathers and fur proving to have trapped the sun's heat quite nicely and now sharing it with Rory as she relaxed against his coolness. She squeaked as her paws were captured, kicking lightly back against the poking fingers but making no attempt to escape the game and Jigano had to stifle a laugh at the feelings of joy that lapped through their bond, brightening his own mood as well.
He was relieved when a long-fingered and work-calloused hand joined his, trying not to think about what he might have felt if Rory had held back. It hadn't happened and, for once, he didn't dwell on it when he could focus on the simple, important task of warming his friend's hand back to life and strength again. The hunter was shivering, and Jigano wished he had brought his cloak to drape over his friend's shoulders while they waited for the fire to cook the food and chase the chill from the room.
A brow rose at the quiet statement, and he looked to Rory's face for confirmation of what he had heard. As tired as the voice had been the blue eyes were looking livelier, and Jigano smiled in return. "Of course," he murmured, unconscious echo of Rory's words to him. He regretted losing the hand that he had held, but Isuma was a worthy distraction - and, more, her tummy was soft and warm and would continue the work he had begun. She wiggled happily and stretched growing limbs until she looked like a fuzzy noodle with her belly fur sticking up in tufts between Rory's fingers. "Then I will learn on Bakshi," the bard decided, pleased to learn more about his friend and the horses he cared for. "And you can teach us from Talys's back. Talys would probably think I'm hopeless," he admitted, a rueful grin lightening his expression as he watched his friend and companion entertain each other, and folded his empty hands back into his lap. "And we would never get anywhere." He tilted his head to the side, enjoying the fire's heat behind him as he tried not to notice the way its light caught red and golden highlights from Rory's hair, even untended as it was. "But what do you mean about Esaia being uncomfortable?" He might have been ignorant on horses, but if Rory was willing to teach him, the lorekeeper was more than willing to learn.
He knew that finding joy again was all about the little things. Dragging himself out of the house, tacking up a horse, going for a walk in the woods (or a heart-pounding run in the arid Outskirts at breakneck speed)—a very simple medicine that always left him more awake, more alive, capable of hauling himself out of the hole he'd fallen into. The problem was just convincing himself to do it, getting over the threshold. On the worst days he just put a loop around Talys's neck and rode with neither bridle nor saddle, because if he had to do one more thing before getting away it just wouldn't happen...
So it was with a sense of wonder and gratitude that he played with Isuma's paws, happy to let her noises and her wriggling chase his despondent mood away.
He was also happy to run his cold fingers through her warm fur, close to her skin, digging into it and smiling at her apparent joy and delight. Jigano declared he would like to learn on Bakshi, and the tips of Rory's fingers massaged Isuma's narrow ribcage. He was both mystified and amused by the sudden liking his friend had taken to Bakshi, then laughed gently. "She might," he agreed warmly, gently moving Isuma onto her side so that he could stretch out one of her wings and inspect it curiously. "But I'm probably better off teaching you from the ground at first. Riding can be daunting and difficult, or so I've heard." Rory had practically been born onto the back of a pony, so it was hard for him to tell how true it was, but he could see how it could be a demanding and unfamiliar thing to learn.
Then talk turned to Esaia, his little gray menace. Rory grimaced slightly and folded Isuma's wing back—if she'd let him inspect it in the first place—and put his hands on the cold floor. He lifted himself lightly off it, a whim that seemed almost absent-minded but had his heart racing as he scooted himself closer to Jigano, experimentally starting to lean closer to him, wanting his warmth, wanting to feel his body connect with his, to lean against his side, to be close more. "Just that riding her is usually a prolonged and torturous castration process," he muttered, not sure where to put his hands; the one closest to Jigano ended up on Rory's knee, the other around Isuma again. "Her withers are pretty well-defined and she needs to, well, relax more. Her steps are short and jarring instead of long and smooth and she doesn't understand the concept of 'going slow'. Plus, she's a bit hot-headed and even more stubborn and opinionated than Talys. But she's only four, she'll grow out of it eventually. I just don't have that much time to work on it."
He shrugged lightly against Jigano. In the pot the stew had begun to simmer, but it would be a while yet before it was done. Sitting down, he felt quite okay, but his stomach gave another treacherous rumble.
Isuma wasn't happy about having her wings manipulated, tugging back on the limb as Rory tried to unfold it at first, but she didn't fight too hard. If he showed an intention to continue she would huff in resignation and go limp against his arm, a pouting dead weight that had Jigano biting back a laugh at her dramatics. "I check on how the feathers are fledging in every day," he murmured to his friend, "but once the primaries started pushing through she's been a bit particular about letting me play with them." He had been reading quite a bit about birds and falconry since that had started!
"Mmm. My previous experience is that it requires clinging to a saddle blanket or an antler with all four paws," Jigano admitted with a rueful grin, agreeing with the difficulty of riding. "I'm nimble enough on my own feet - however many of them I have at the time - but it's another matter entirely to put my trust in something else's feet to get me where I want to go!" And stranger than he could put into words to be able to say something like that out loud, to someone who knew what he was, and to feel only the slightest tremor of trepidation at it. He wanted to lean into Rory's shoulder, let the other man know somehow how much it meant to him that he could speak so openly with someone about a secret he had kept for a lifetime, but he didn't quite dare, not yet, while the hunter was still weak with hunger and the haze of a depression that couldn't be shaken off so quickly.
But then he didn't have to dare, because Rory seemed to have come to the same conclusion, and as he shifted closer Jigano hesitated only for a moment. He would have been happy just leaning against Rory's side, even that much would have been so much more than he had allowed himself in years... but the hunter was cold, and hungry, and the bard gave a shy, sideways glance before he slipped his arm around his friend's shoulders and shifted to finish closing the distance between them, giving Rory as much of his warmth as he could. "You don't make her sound very fun to ride," he teased lightly, ignoring how Isuma made a self-satisfied little chirrup at the way his heart was racing. "Withers?" he questioned curiously, then frowned at the rumble of his friend's stomach. "I'd brought the chamomile for the horses but... I can make tea for us, if you'd like?" he offered gently. "To tide you over until the soup is ready?" As much as he didn't want to let Rory go now that he had his lean strength tucked so comfortably against his side, he also didn't want his friend passing out from hunger while they waited on the jerky and vegetables to soften.
Isuma's reluctance to have her wing unfolded had him frowning slightly. In every other aspect the young creature seemed to have no issues with being handled, whether it was holding her, tugging on her paws, ruffling her fur, or any of the other many things Rory had absentmindedly done (there was a reason all his animals ended up very tolerant; he did not always think about the way his fingers sometimes tugged on ears and tails). Sure, she'd playfully kicked her paws when he was messing with them, but this reluctance felt genuine in a way he hadn't sensed from her before.
Still, Rory was of the mind that an animal did not get to pick what it put up with and what it didn't. He wouldn't force anything upon them, but if he identified a problem, he'd work on it, taking it slowly, small steps, desensitizing them to whatever it was and working up their confidence that he wouldn't eat them.
So he held on to her wing, waiting for her to stop trying to pull it out of his hand. When she did he didn't open it further, but leaned close to look at it instead, and then let it go much sooner than he otherwise would've. She'd been good; she deserved the reward of having her wing back, and a chin scratch for good measure.
"Growth itch or soreness, maybe?" he suggested; it was common enough with teeth, so why not feathers, as well? "I know jack shit about wings and birds anyway." Dogs, goats, horses: that was what he knew. He was decent with handling cats, because they were kinda like mares.
Rory laughed a little at Jigano's comments about paws and feet and the number of them, his fondness for the man keeping most of the customary bitterness at bay; it coasted like a shadow across his heart, like a whisper in the back of his mind, barely even pricked his consciousness. "I prefer their four to my two," was his only comment, the humor in his voice hiding the black pit beneath.
But—mh... His heart pounded in his chest, what felt like a missed beat before it shifted gear and sped up even more as Jigano's arm snaked behind his back. A warm, solid weight across the back of his shoulders, and nothing—nothing—compared to the feeling of their thighs touching, flank to flank with nothing but shirts between their skin—
It was a wonder he had kept himself from gasping at that touch, but somehow he had kept his breathing even, though his muscles were rigid, tense, uncertain of this new shape he leaned so willingly against. "She isn't," he confirmed with a grimace, his hand busying itself in Isuma's fur. "Or, well, that's uncharitable of me; it depends entirely on what I want out of it." Talys loved running, but it was always controlled.
Esaia, she was a hurricane, you just held on and laughed and prayed.
"The withers is the part where the neck meets the back," he explained. "Some horses have barely any definition there, while some have a very defined 'slope' leading down from it. I can point at it once we're outside."
And then, of all the things, Jigano offered to make tea. Jigano offered to get up and make tea, barely even a minute after Rory had scooted over to claim the warmth and support of his body, his muscles not yet sure how to fit against the man so close beside him. Rory felt himself put a little more weight against Jigano, sort of snuggling into the space created underneath his arm. "Nah, I'm perfectly fine with the way things are," he responded, unable to keep the sly smile from his face and curling around his words.
Oh, the many strange turns his life had taken lately.
She wasn’t strong enough to escape Rory’s pulling and prodding at her wing – even though his touch was gentle in spite of his firm intention to have his way. Isuma finally gave in, allowing him to look at the mix of baby down and first-molt juvenile feathers that were slowly replacing it without further fussing, but as soon as he released her wing she pulled it tight to her side and rolled over on to her back, peeping piteously for tummy rubs.
”Growth itch, I think,” Jigano agreed, amused at her attempts to coax an ‘apology’ from Rory. ”I’ve been reading up on every falconry book or journal on companions I can get my hands on in the Atheneum since she started molting, and the new feathers coming in can make birds irritable. But she’s also got some growing pains in her wings now that they’re getting bigger. It seems to be normal, and she doesn’t usually complain she’s just… well, touchy about having her wings touched right now.”
He basked in the warmth of Rory’s laugh, tucking it away in the special, bright place where other memories of his friend’s joy were kept, securely in his heart, where he could cherish them against darker times. He tilted his head in acknowledgment of the hunter’s preferences, grinning in shared humor and oblivious to the shadow that slid beneath the blond man’s skin in that moment.
He was very quickly distracted by what was on top of Rory’s skin instead: the clothing that barely separated them as they shifted together. His friend more than a friend, be honest with yourself Jigano was still tense, but whether with cold or nervousness or both the lorekeeper didn’t know. In truth he was a little afraid of the answer, but that didn’t stop him from holding the other man close against him, trying a little awkwardly to shift his height and position to find the most comfortable fit for them both when he had spent so long without more than the touch of a hand. He cleared his throat a little self-consciously, wishing he had the same poise and confidence with Rory that he had with everyone else—
And then not wishing for it, at all. What he felt for Rory was deeper and more complicated and more dangerous and exhilarating and incredible and even when the other man made him feel weak he had a way of making the bard feel wonderful, too. He didn’t know what to say about Esaia, but his lips curved into a smile as he was taught about withers and he nodded in understanding. He could envision a horse well enough, and Rory’s description was easy to follow.
What he couldn’t do was leave to make tea, not with his friend snuggling close against him and finding the place where they both fit together. The white-haired man sighed in quiet relief at being asked to stay, some of his own tension easing as he slipped his arm more tightly around Rory’s shoulders. The smile in that sweet voice had heat rising to his face and rather than fight it he tilted his head to rest his cheek against blond hair. Isuma wriggled herself back onto her belly and crawled to curl up in Rory’s lap, purring loudly with her companion’s joy as well as her own. ”Good,” he murmured, his own smile widening slowly as he let his eyes close. ”I just got comfortable.”
Rory was an infinite dispenser of tummy rubs, at least when he wasn't working. And even then, he usually found calm and meaning in stopping, pausing, taking a moment to soothe a goat's itch beneath her ears, or hold Bakshi's head in his hands, stroking the loyal old gelding's forehead and assuring him that he was a good boy. They did, gave, so much, and asked so little in return. They were better than the whole lot of humans, truly.
"Good on you," he murmured, oddly pleased and completely unsurprised that Jigano took the care of Isuma so seriously. He wondered if there were books on horsekeeping, and if so, what they said, if they contradicted what he held for true. "I know some horses get irritable when they grow in new coats. But it's understandable, really. I'd probably be grouchy too if I was growing a whole lotta new things and someone wanted to poke and prod."
And that was, perhaps, that.
When Jigano cleared his throat, Rory was, for a very brief moment, afraid that he had changed his mind, that he would pull away, put the distance and chilly air back between them. While it would've hurt, it would've been easy enough to smooth over, pretend otherwise, move on from—but nothing else followed it. Nothing changed, their sides still pressed together, Rory's heart beating furiously in a way that made him deaf to Jigano's body. He couldn't feel, or hear, if his pulse was stampeding too.
In fact, the arm around his back tightened its hold as Rory asked him to stay, and in a way, it was all the acknowledgment he needed. Some of the tension bled out of him as they shifted, together, the gryphon wriggling on his lap as Jigano's cheek came to rest against the top of his head—
Something in Rory froze. It was like admitting to something, again, just as they had in the lantern-lit dark in the Infirmary. It was something that was exhilarating and so much less direct than what he was used to, a sort of fumble in the dark, and one that had his heart racing for so many reasons. He breathed in, feeling the vibration of Jigano's voice through their bodies, feeling his breath stir his hair... He suppressed a shiver the best he could, both wishing for the stew to be done now and never; he was hungry in a way that he could not work his way around, no matter how much he wanted, the lack of food a whispering sort of hollowness always on the edge of his awareness and resolve.
"Good," he murmured, not quite aware of how he mirrored Jigano's words, his hands curling around the purring gryphon to keep them from straying.
He didn't understand what was happening between them, or how Rory could soothe his fears and send his heart racing with anxiety all at once. Having someone lean into his fragile strength, trusting him in that simple, dangerous way, should have sent him running, fleeing the farm and its enchanting master with all due courtesy - but fleeing all the same. He hadn't thought his heart could bear the weight of another's touch again, not so deeply, but Rory had reached so slowly through the defenses, the armor, the deflections, the secrets, that he had slipped right by them before the fox had realized what was happening.
And the press of his hand wasn't a weight after all. Gentle fingers soothed the jagged cracks in Jigano's heart, much as they had run through moonlit fur, strong and sweet and offering support and quiet comfort. Holding him now was like holding sunlight made flesh, something that should have been impossible but was warm and soft and bright in a way that pushed back the shadows that the bard had spent far too long being ruled by.
He wouldn't have minded, he thought idly, if they could have stayed that way forever. If they could have slowed time to a trickle, one in which he offered Rory his own warmth and strength, and drank in the hunter's acceptance and support. The fire crackled cheerfully behind them and Isuma purred in Rory's hands, entirely approving of how Jigano's self-conscious tension eased at the blond man's desire to keep him close. Even as quiet fell between them it wasn't an empty silence; it was filled with beating hearts and the gentle warmth of breathing. Birds called outside, merry and bright in the flush of Flowerbirth, and after a little while of memorizing the feel of Rory's body against his, the way he fit against Jigano's shoulder, and the warmth that grew between them as the other man soaked up the heat from the fire and the bodies of his companions, Jigano finally drew a deeper breath and spoke again. He kept his voice quiet, hesitant to disturb the silence. "Will you teach me?" he asked. "The songs you sing for Fiat Lux... or the songs you like best? They don't have to be Flowerbirth songs," he amended, not noticing in the moment how his voice had softened with shyness. "Any songs you like... I'd like to learn, too."
It was one of those times where Rory did not know what to say, only to realize that he did not need to say anything. Whatever thread of conversation they had spun between them had reached its end, and finding a new one seemed—forced, somehow. Like grasping for straws. So after a couple of seconds Rory sighed, contentedly, trying desperately to slow his heartbeat. Nothing was going to happen. It didn't need to run out his chest in anticipation.
His fingers scratched in between the feathers lining Isuma's face, and he found that he was able to shift some of his attention from the rush of feeling Jigano's warmth seep through their shirts to studying the gryphon's facial structure. Like he'd said, birds weren't really his thing, mostly through lack of exposure to them. The hunger-induced tremble in his hands was almost unnoticeable when he was sitting down, arms tight against his body, fingers merely stroking among the feathers. It was such a strange new feeling...
He felt his attention tilt back towards the other man at the deeper inhalation. It broke the rhythm of the relative silence—the hiss and pop and whisper of flames, the slow bubbling of the stew—and foreshadowed words.
Rory found that he did not mind.
In fact, he found that unless he actually paid attention to Jigano's voice he would merely drift away in the feeling of it.
Fiat Lux songs? Or, rather, any songs?
He caught his lower lip between his teeth, self-conscious in a way he hadn't been when Jigano had just been a fox (he'd never been just a fox) and he'd sung the gryphon's praises. His voice was rusty with disuse, his body faint in a way that bothered him, and he was cold. He didn't much feel like singing, though the emotion fortunately lacked resentment. Besides, he didn't sing much anymore. His house had grown quieter and quieter over the years. He was also strangely self-conscious of the fact that he had a tendency to sing laments, when he sang anything at all.
So instead, he recited a poem. It was sometimes sung as well, and at times he found the melody snaking around the words, like a ghost of the song it was.
Largely, it was a poem about Rae, about new beginnings and thankfulness for the return of sunlight and warmth. When he was done, rather surprised he still recalled it so well, he fell silent, and after a moment, offered a small shrug.
Isuma purred and chirruped happily to herself as Rory's fingers stroked her soft, feathery face. She tilted her head to nibble gently on them, ticklish little nips of her small beak as she returned the affection with an openness Jigano could only envy.
His question had stemmed from the reason he had come to visit today: to create a new song for the celebrations. But to create something new he wanted to know what sorts of songs were traditional, and what sort of themes they followed so that his own could draw from the roots of both and fit in with the music people were used to. He had meant his request to be answered later, once they were fed and out in the sunlight again... or perhaps still here, nestled together by the fire with full bellies and warm backs. When Rory started to speak, however, Jigano went still and focused, listening with closed eyes as he captured the words in his memory and followed the tune that slid so coyly around the verses from time to time.
Rory's shrug was met with a smile against messy blond hair and a gentle squeeze of his hand on the hunter's shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured. "That was lovely." And it had been. He knew how sweet Rory's voice could be, and even the roughness of its current state couldn't hide it completely. "Do you think..." he started, and then hesitated, considering the state of his friend. He had been cold and hungry and numb with exhaustion when Jigano had arrived. The cold, they were working on, and the numbness had faded, but hunger remained a problem they had yet to deal with, and it wasn't fair to push him. Instead the sometimes-fox gave a little shake of his head, wishing he could snuggle closer than they already were. "Mmm. Never mind. It can wait until after you eat. If you want to rest a little now... if you think you can... I can wake you when the food is ready?"
Fingers tightened on his arm, for a moment pressing him closer; he felt the vibrations of Jigano's voice through his chest, as a strange echo within his cranium, a depth to it that normally wasn't present because it didn't resonate into his body. He wasn't sure he agreed with the use of the word lovely, though, but the combination of the praise and the closeness sent a small shiver through him.
Then Jigano began to say something else, only, he never finished the sentence. After a second Rory prompted him with a wordless "mh?", but whatever it was, the fox thought better of it. Or, rather, chose to postpone it, which earned a disgruntled sort of grunt from the blond. He was curious, always, about everything, too curious for his own good, but he had to admit that Jigano wasn't all that wrong. It could wait until after he ate. Everything could. Everything had to, or Rory would eat it (whatever it was).
"Does that require me moving from here?" he asked, not sure if Jigano wanted to be stuck there for some time with Rory potentially napping against him. Though, honestly, between the warmth of the fire, the warmth of the gryphon, and the warmth of the man, it was tempting to force him into it.
04-02-2019, 02:27 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-02-2019, 02:38 PM by Jigano.)
Shivers continued to run through the body nestled against his, in spite of his best efforts to warm his friend, and Jigano's quiet contentment shifted back towards open concern. Whatever he had been about to suggest fell by the wayside, and he sent a small suggestion of a thought towards Isuma, who was happy to stretch and then curl herself up again in Rory's lap, a quiet purr thrumming through her small, warm body and coaxing him to relax.
"We can, if you think you'd be more comfortable somewhere else..." Jigano offered hesitantly, then found a quiet laugh escaping, a sound so light and full of peace he didn't recognize it at first as his own. "But I'm happy, here with you. Like this." And he was happy, no edge of sadness or guilt underlying the surface emotions he showed the world. It was almost confusing in its simplicity, because it had been so long since he'd let himself feel that way...
In spite of the other emotions that stirred, warm and deep and dangerous and frighteningly full of hope that he had no defense against. Things that he was trying very hard not to think about, with Rory pressed so trustingly against him in a way that made his heart skip far too many beats anytime they shifted. "Rest," he coaxed gently. "Please?" He didn't notice how soft his smile had become, with his cheek still resting on Rory's head, or that Isuma had one eye half-open, peeking up at him with a smug twinkle as her purring deepened. For his part, Jigano found himself humming quietly, an old ballad he hadn't thought of in years, a light and sweet little song that seemed a good match for the gentle spring sunlight that filtered through the windows of Rory's house and striped the wooden floor with gold.
It was a time that, in future days, he would hold most dear. Sometimes he sang softly, and sometimes he hummed, and for awhile he just sat in silence, drinking in the unexpected joy of being two instead of one - three, he corrected fondly as Isuma's purring paused. But it could not last forever, and eventually the warmth of the fire had filled the kitchen and carried the savory smell of the soup with it. Jigano turned his head to nuzzle at messy blond tresses, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over his companion's shoulder. "Rory," he murmured. "The soup is ready, if you want to wake up now..." Though if the hunter wanted to stay where he was a little while longer, the fox wouldn't mind at all.
Rory's hands moved to accommodate the shifting gryphon, giving her room to settle herself more comfortably. He envied how easily her lithe body curled up in a small ball, the sound of her contentment rolling through him in warm waves. It was strange, really; so small a body, yet so powerful a vibration. It was a cat mystery he had never solved.
The sound Jigano then made was something he never could've done as a fox, and the realization was.. many things; but one of the things that crept into his mind was something like .. the peace of this moment: the warmth sitting in his gut like a wild and foreign thing. A wildfire waiting to happen, but not today, with Jigano's gentle, light laugh, with the hunger turning his limbs to lead.
He wasn't going to marvel at how he found himself sitting there. Instead, he relaxed further against Jigano, a lopsided smile playing around his mouth. "Good," he murmured, one finger stroking across Isuma's feathers, "I am too."
He wasn't sure he could actually fall asleep, but he knew that he could drift off into some in-between land at the very least. He winked conspiratorially at Isuma (whether she watched him or not) and then closed his eyes and allowed his breathing to slow. His heart pounded forcefully in the dark. The fire warmed his back. Jigano—well, Jigano warmed all of him, inside and outside.
Eventually he fell into the light slumber that one easily wakes from but rarely notices slipping into. He merely drifted, in sunlight and the flicker of fire and with Jigano's voice wrapped around his soul.
A touch against his head. A touch on his shoulder. The warmth against his side; the vibrating warmth in his lap; he somehow avoided waking with a start, as he normally did when not waking of his own accord. Still, a small jolt went through him, barely perceptible if not for how close together they were; surely Jigano would've felt his core muscles clench?
Self-consciously, Rory blinked, and lifted his head with regret. His first thought was to ask how long was I out? but it wasn't relevant. "Mmmmh," he, well, not quite said, and though he wanted to joke about perhaps never waking up if the food hadn't been done now, he didn't really find the words. So instead he put one hand on Jigano's leg, close to his knee, a sort of I very much like sitting here but I have to move before picking up Isuma and standing up.
His knees felt stiff.
He offered the owlkitten his shoulder to get her out of the way, then fetched two clean wooden bowls and two clean wooden spoons. He handed one set to Jigano, then ladled up stew for himself. Despite being hungry he wasn't an idiot, so he set himself down by the table and forcefully kept himself from inhaling it all and burning his mouth up and giving himself a stomach ache. Instead, he took the time to blow on each mouthful, properly cooling it off before devouring it.
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