The soup was cooling in his bowl, though there wasn’t much left. Still Jigano waited to finish it, finding perhaps a little comfort in the distraction to keep him from gazing too openly at his companion. His question had been almost wistful and a little worried, and while he hadn’t known exactly what to expect, Rory’s answer sent a chill through him. Not lonely at all? Not needing human company? Human as he had become, certain as he was that Rory wanted him near, the fox still found himself tensing, his expression momentarily vulnerable and aching. For a moment, when he heard that the hunter still wanted company, he relaxed a little, wondering if he had, perhaps, misunderstood-
But that hope was quickly dashed as the blond repeated his assertion with a strength the bard didn’t know how to doubt. Someday, he had been thinking to himself… As if the weight he had chosen to carry could be put down any easier than it had been taken up. As if atonement were that easy to find, for the ghosts he had bound to his own soul. Isuma watched him with worried golden eyes, a quiet Reep? of concern in her throat as some of Rory’s chill finally seeped past the lorekeeper’s determined warmth. Jigano gave her a half-hearted smile, finishing his soup without tasting it when he realized that Rory had already emptied his bowl, and stood.
”Are you still cold?” he asked gently. He wanted to reach out and capture Rory’s hands again, share his warmth with his friend, as he had when they had sat in front of the fire and words hadn’t gotten in the way. What he reached for instead was the empty bowl, so that he could take the dirty dishes to the sink for rinsing, leaving Isuma crouched, tense and unhappy, on Rory’s shoulder as she felt the shadows slide back into her companion’s heart, creeping through the cracks the hunter had so innocently opened in its defenses. ”Would you rather sit outside in the sunlight? Or here by the fire?”
But that hope was quickly dashed as the blond repeated his assertion with a strength the bard didn’t know how to doubt. Someday, he had been thinking to himself… As if the weight he had chosen to carry could be put down any easier than it had been taken up. As if atonement were that easy to find, for the ghosts he had bound to his own soul. Isuma watched him with worried golden eyes, a quiet Reep? of concern in her throat as some of Rory’s chill finally seeped past the lorekeeper’s determined warmth. Jigano gave her a half-hearted smile, finishing his soup without tasting it when he realized that Rory had already emptied his bowl, and stood.
”Are you still cold?” he asked gently. He wanted to reach out and capture Rory’s hands again, share his warmth with his friend, as he had when they had sat in front of the fire and words hadn’t gotten in the way. What he reached for instead was the empty bowl, so that he could take the dirty dishes to the sink for rinsing, leaving Isuma crouched, tense and unhappy, on Rory’s shoulder as she felt the shadows slide back into her companion’s heart, creeping through the cracks the hunter had so innocently opened in its defenses. ”Would you rather sit outside in the sunlight? Or here by the fire?”
