He was not needed here. The thought rang hollowly in his heart as he put on the smile he had worn for three years so no one would see the ravaged, empty space beneath. No, he had worn it longer, hadn't he? When the friends who had needed him but not wanted him had begun to make their choices... and he had begun making his.
Isuma shivered, pressing close to Rory and nuzzling fiercely into his touch as she watched her companion and tried to share some of the hunter's comfort from her to him, with the ice pale hair and ice blue eyes and ice cold heart that the blond had begun to melt even before a baby gryphon had arrived to continue the healing a kind man's gentle hands had begun, innocently unknowing in those days.
His fingers wanted to reach for Rory's almost of their own accord, and it took more effort than he dared to admit to take the bowl instead, voice gentle because the hunter was hurt, wounded, fighting shadows the loreseeker couldn't see. He splashed water in the bowls, rinsing and scrubbing them clean so he wouldn't have to think about how his hands trembled. The question came almost too quietly to hear, and it would have been so, so easy to smile and lie and show the world a face like a summer sky so no one would wonder at the wintry chill that lay beneath--
"Would it have... been easier for you," he said instead of answering directly, "if I had stayed a fox? Would I..." he drew in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled sharply and shook his head. Gods least fortunate, he was a mess, wasn't he? And making a mess of everything else, too. How his tongue could be so clumsy now, when he needed his eloquence the most was a matter he didn't want to look at too deeply, because he knew the answer.
It was like fighting a wicker woman's embrace to turn and face his friend, to cross the short distance between them, to kneel beside Rory's chair so the hunter would not have to look up at him as he spoke. "I will believe you," he said quietly, wondering if the blond knew what power he had over the bard, for the paranoid man to make such an oath. "What you tell me, I will believe. If you say that you aren't lonely... that you don't need any human company... I will take you at your word. But I..." He hesitated and bowed his head, unable to meet too-blue eyes in that moment of painful vulnerability. "I told myself that, once, too. And... now, here... I am learning just how wrong I was."
Isuma shivered, pressing close to Rory and nuzzling fiercely into his touch as she watched her companion and tried to share some of the hunter's comfort from her to him, with the ice pale hair and ice blue eyes and ice cold heart that the blond had begun to melt even before a baby gryphon had arrived to continue the healing a kind man's gentle hands had begun, innocently unknowing in those days.
His fingers wanted to reach for Rory's almost of their own accord, and it took more effort than he dared to admit to take the bowl instead, voice gentle because the hunter was hurt, wounded, fighting shadows the loreseeker couldn't see. He splashed water in the bowls, rinsing and scrubbing them clean so he wouldn't have to think about how his hands trembled. The question came almost too quietly to hear, and it would have been so, so easy to smile and lie and show the world a face like a summer sky so no one would wonder at the wintry chill that lay beneath--
"Would it have... been easier for you," he said instead of answering directly, "if I had stayed a fox? Would I..." he drew in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled sharply and shook his head. Gods least fortunate, he was a mess, wasn't he? And making a mess of everything else, too. How his tongue could be so clumsy now, when he needed his eloquence the most was a matter he didn't want to look at too deeply, because he knew the answer.
It was like fighting a wicker woman's embrace to turn and face his friend, to cross the short distance between them, to kneel beside Rory's chair so the hunter would not have to look up at him as he spoke. "I will believe you," he said quietly, wondering if the blond knew what power he had over the bard, for the paranoid man to make such an oath. "What you tell me, I will believe. If you say that you aren't lonely... that you don't need any human company... I will take you at your word. But I..." He hesitated and bowed his head, unable to meet too-blue eyes in that moment of painful vulnerability. "I told myself that, once, too. And... now, here... I am learning just how wrong I was."
