[Mini Event] To See and Pray [OPEN TO ALL]

Emmett had only vaguely remembered, through the haze of his fog of grief and pain, that there was a planned assault on the spire going ahead. He had not intended to watch, but when he arrived at the market with the intention of cleaning his stall, he had found it practically empty. After a second of pure confusion he had worked out where everyone must been and decided he should see what was going on. He arrived at the spot just as Rory began to angrily yell. Emmett agreed with the man and nodded along as he walked up. He didn't have anything against Outlanders (after all, his girlfriend was one) but he did think it rich they all thought they knew better. About the Spire, about the Gods, about the life here...it was begun to grate on him. Still, he wasn't the kinda guy to get into fights. He stood by and watched, taking everyone in. Some people were milling about, some laughing, one man sat in the corner with his head in his hands as if the world had already come down. Emmett was practically daydreaming until Zariah began to speak, when he suddenly found himself rolling his eyes. Normally he was calm, friendly. But the latent anger at his recent grief came pouring out all of a sudden, his arms folding and his voice raising. "'Scuse me, but us Naturals did come to the meetings. But y'all don' listen. Ever. It's just 'aw well, we want out! Fuck your beliefs 'n' plans 'n' books, we want out and we think it might be somethin' t'do with the Spire, so let's just go mess with it!'" He pointed towards the Spire. "Y'lot don' know any more than we do what that does, 'n' running over to it before we're prepared is nothin' but dumb and disrespectful." Ok, Here It Goes

Oh soldier, take your time No one said the words all have to rhyme ☙ Nathaniel doesn't get involved in things like this. He lives in the middle of fuckoff-nowhere for a reason. He doesn't pick fights (anymore), doesn't stick his nose in anyone's business, doesn't care enough about Outlanders to memorize their names or faces. He is only nearby because he is unlucky. Because he walked slightly nearer the spire today on his way to somewhere else. He was, in fact, on his way to the market, a bundle of furs on one shoulder, the Outlander tagging along somewhere behind him. Both because the Outlander can at this point be trusted about as much as a months-old puppy and because he's good at talking. A skill Nathaniel decidedly lacks. A skill one needs if one is going to trade. But he won't make it to the marketplace today. He hears it at first as distant commotion: raised voices, strange sounds, the hair on the back of his neck going up as if something, something, has just stalked by behind him. Nothing (worth noting) is behind him. Something is over there. Nate pauses, head up, like a hound catching the first traces of scent. His features shift, concentration a distant frown. Something about it is serious. Something about it makes him change direction. At first, cautiously, but then at a run, dropping his things and moving quickly toward the Spire. He has not formed the thought by the time he reaches them, this group huddled out of danger's way (as if anything ever is). He is running on Spire, he is running on Yelling, and then he is upon them and he recognizes some the faces, Maea and Rory and Wordsworth twins, some of them angry, along with a bunch of Outlanders. Nathaniel slows. The second thing he notices, a thing there in the distance, a thing he wishes he had not seen, is the monster and the small group of idiots in the middle of entertaining it. "Fuck," says Nate. He has forgotten his own Outlander for the time being, so preoccupied with whatever the fuck is going on here — whatever combination of courage and stupidity. There will be a lot of blood to clean up. And for a moment he hates them, really fucking hates them, anger a white heat in his gut and behind his eyes. Outlanders at it again, getting into everything they shouldn't, trying to take what they haven't earned. But he's worried, too. Worried he's about to see people die today, messy and horrible, screaming and painful, a lesson in fucking with things you don't understand. Nate stands rigid at the edge of the group, his eyes lifted, ignoring for now the petty arguments. "Can any of you heal?" he asks in a very flat voice. Finally, his eyes shift toward them, brows creased with worry. Even if they don't, no one needs to know you gotta let things go

Adam was glad to be useful for a day, ready to show Nate just how good at deal-making he was. And if his deals didn't work out, there was always stealing. The stalls here were remarkably badly guarded and he could dart a hand out in the blink of an eye, take whatever it was Nate wanted; it did not occur to him that Nate may have had some kind of moral problem with taking from his fellow Naturals.

But as they got to the market, Nate stopped. Adam did too as he noticed the lack of people around. "Something going on...?" He asked, but to little surprise Nate ignored him. Shrugging and following, Adam yawned behind him but was cut short with his mouth open as he saw all the people stood by, clearing waiting for something.

Nate seemed far more concerned with the goings on than he was so Adam left him to it, walking over to Edy. She had seemed fun, still seemed fun now; he suspected she might tell him straight what was actually going on.

"Hey." He said, sidling up next to her. "The fuck we all stood here for?" As he spoke he reached into his satchel for the little sack of 'treats' that should would recognise, fished out two small green balls into his hand but for now just kept them in there, not mentioning them.

ADAM

So what's the point of robbery when nothing is worth taking?
It's kind of tough to tell a scruff the big mistake he's making

Ever mindful of her mortality, Wessex is prepared. Perhaps overly so, as she stalks towards the group in a head-to-toe cloak (stolen, but she has a feeling its previous owner was a LongNight victim), all limbs tucked preciously inside its dark folds. Her face is shrouded in shadow, but it is possible to determine easily determine who is there. She feels like shit during the day (she should be sleeping for fucks sake, but nooooo, they had to do this fucking now) - and that makes her even more irritable than usual. Arriving as Rory explodes, Wessex would have gone to place a hand on his shoulder - but again, she’s being overly cautious. Her time is coming, and she won’t play the fool before then. Instead, she lines up beside Rory, Amalia, and Evie, and they become an four person club. All vastly different, but fuck, together they’d be a force to be reckoned with. Rather than engage, Wessex watches and listens, allowing her negative thoughts to rise to the surface until a little Outlander erupts into a literal several minute monologue about her feelings regarding the natives. And while the girl may not be able to see the withering gaze (hey, others can play the emotionless calm thing too, you know) honing in on her, the Natural’s voice is dripping with disdain and contempt. “You sound like an ignorant child who’s in love with the sound of her own voice.” She snorts. “How convenient of you to forget that without the altruistic Naturals, you would have been massacred during LongNight.” She pauses to let that sink in for a moment. Imagine the terror that would have run rampant through the settlement. Hiding without knowing what will keep you safe. Open the door a crack just to see if the coast is clear and then BAM! Dead. “You couldn’t possibly understand what those things have done to us for over three hundred years. That’s fifteen generations... And it’s not worth the effort to try and teach you,” she finishes dryly. Wessex turns to watch the small group as they meet the Demon - watches as it hits Roana. Ha! Serves her right. “Succeed or fail, they’ve made a choice and it sends a very particular message. Some of you only want our knowledge when it will save your asses. Then you’ll take the credit if something succeeds. Cooperation, which was so clearly agreed upon - is now obviously off the table.” It is black and white to her. And with that, she turns and looks straight at Edy and changes her tone on a dime. “Hey sexy. Want a second go later?” That part is purposefully ambiguous, of course.   WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here

Phoebe I know I am good at something, I just haven't found it yet Phoebe was anxious. Very anxious. Today was the day that Roana was attacking the Spire again. She had nearly died last time, and to think she was facing it again?? The blonde was supposed to be watching her three boys, as well as Emmett’s younger siblings, but at a certain point she couldn’t take not knowing anymore. She brought the children to a neighbor’s house and hurried to the spot where she had heard people would be gathering to watch what happened. She arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Zariah’s rant, unaware as to what prompted it. But she didn’t pay much mind, finding a spot where she could see well instead. That is…until she heard a familiar voice. Her head whipped around when she heard Emmett, her brows furrowing at the anger in his words. It cut her deep, feeling it a very personal attack even if he hadn’t intended it as such. So…she was just dumb and disrespectful? She had save his damned life, and his two siblings, and she was dumb and disrespectful because she was an Outlander? ”It’s good to know that’s what you really think about people like me, Emmett.” she said curtly, tears rising in her eyes with her anger. But she didn’t focus on it long, hearing the commotion below. She looked back, gasping and covering her mouth with her hands at what she saw: her sister-in-law in the jaws of the demon. She was going to be alone, with her three nephews. Roana was going to die. Emmett thought she was worthless Outlander trash. Everything she had was going to come to an end today. It would just be her, and three six-year old boys.

 

M E L I T A

---

She would’ve helped. The honeybee girl would’ve done anything they’d asked her to do – bright smile on before the battle began, roughened swords or shields displayed – eternally ready to jump into danger, to save the day without the thought of consequences. She’d lived long enough for it to be somewhat successful – but now, now it wouldn’t have mattered.

Melita wasn’t strong enough. She wasn’t trained enough. She wasn’t enough.

But what hurt even more than the deep cuts of proving herself time and time again, but not to the right people, was the roaring faction bleeding into the spectating. What should’ve been a time of anxiety, apprehension, and foretold intervention (because how many of them would rush on the battlefield to grab ahold of one of their own?), had only spilled over in blighted, tangible belligerence. Naturals and Outlanders spouted their reasons, their motives, all these starry ambitions from meetings, words orchestrated in halls and temples, going out there and committing to the actions – and it simmered down to hatred and vehemence.

She cringed, stood on the outskirts, eyes on the battle below, ears listening to the battle within. It was an echo of her childhood, when false gods lured and tempted, beguiled and allured, and those who’d disagreed, who warned were ignored, and only shown their just desserts when the world fell apart around their heads. Blames were exchanged, feelings were being pummeled; somewhere she could hear Rory exploding, fuming, Phoebe crying, Wessex condemning, and her heart sunk. How was this making anything better? What were they supposed to do now? Was that how they always thought of us?

The fight raged on in both expanses, and Melita had nothing to contribute to either of them. For the first time in a long while, she stared out across the fields, and shivered; suddenly frightened by the reaches of the inevitable.

Kalt gave a smirk to Edrei at the feline that she brought with her. A bobcat. The assassin felt Kysma tense in the presence of the animal, as she still had a few scars from her last real encounter with one of them. He dismounted between the unicorn and the bobcat, patting her thick neck when she nuzzled his shoulder for reassurance.    He drew a slow breath and cast his gaze to the group towards the Spire. ”What’s a thousand past shitshow?” He asked with a wry grin. ”I had a bad feeling about this from the get go, kid. Don’t feel right to me.”    People continued to gather, many more Naturals than he had expected, but it wasn’t like it was an Oulander-only party, so he didn’t mention anything. What started getting under his skin was the bickering among the Naturals and Outlanders.    At any other time, Kalt would be totally game for a good fight. He would be the first to throw a punch or easily slip into a heated argument, but now? No... Now wasn’t the time to bitch and moan about what goals the people had and what who thought about who or any of that nonsense.    The assassin turned to the group with fierce eyes and let loose a piercing whistle. ”Now isn’t the fucking time to whine about whether the Outlanders think they’re better than the Naturals!” He shouted, brows drawn together and a disapproving glare in his crystalline blue eyes. ”Whatever you people may or may not believe or know about that creature or why the fuck the bubble is around this place doesn’t mean shit right now! There are four people out there risking their lives because they believe it’s the right thing to do for everyone. We might be witnessing their last moments in this wretched place, so have some fucking respect, or leave!”    Kalt huffed, glancing at Edy and turning his head up when Nathaniel asked if anyone could heal. The assassin raised his hand briefly to catch the other man’s attention. ”I’m a doctor,” Kalt answered, his voice much calmer than it had been a second ago. ”Got my supplies in the saddlebag.” Once again, he patted Kysma’s neck, then turned his eyes out to the fight that had begun. He wanted to call out to Ashe, but he kept quiet. The last thing she needed at that moment was a distraction. KALT Damned if you do; Bored if you don’t.

Maea Big dreamers shoot for open skies And that was the whole problem, wasn't it. Four people, only four, and not s single Natural standing among them. It was rash, it was impatient, and perhaps even necessary, but it did not make it feel any better. Maybe Zariah had a point, perhaps they were scared of what would happen if the wall came down, maybe they were annoyed at a bunch of outsiders had fallen into their midst and questioned every truth the Naturals had ever known. But to say that they were happy to leave the bleeding and the dying to others.... That just was not true. "I am sure it must be hard on you " Maea said quietly, to Zariah and the others as well, anyone who cared to listen, "to be torn from your old life and thrown into a place like this. You have been here... how long now? Too long, för sure. And you have seen bad things, and learned a little of what it means to be trapped here. Perhaps our lives seem gray and pointless to you... But at least we are alive. We live, and we live because we learned how to survive, how to be patient and avoid unnecessary risks." She met the eyes of those who questioned her, looked at Evie and Zariah, back straight and without faltering. Where she found the strength Maea wasn't sure, but the neither raised her voice nor backed down, even though the pressure of clashing wills made her feel nauseous. "They are free to do what they wish, and I am free to think it reckless; believe it or not, agree or not but the barrier restricts only where we can go, not what we think or do. I chose to spend my time plowing the fields, raising animals and providing for everyone within these Hollowed Grounds. I'm sorry, miss, but I have never seen you on the fields, or in the woods, or holding a tool. Nor do I see you standing out there, risking your life. How exactly have you been contributing to anything?" With that Maea turned away from all of them, her attention shifting towards the battle that had begun. There was a weight like led in her stomach as she watched them, little more than blurred shapes to her eyes; she did not recognize the faces of anyone because she was unable to see that far... yet still she felt obliged to watch anyway. Whatever the outcome, it would affect them all, and Maea hated that she was bound to the sidelines like this. Unable to help. Unable to do anything. Clasping her hands tightly together, the pale-skinned woman began to pray. "Safrin, lady of light, hold your hand over them and shield them from harm. Guide their steps upon this earth, Frey, that they shall not stumble or fall. Lend them your eyes, Ludo and guide them away from the darkness, and let no grief cast shadow upon this day..."

The fight continued on with new voices being added to the mix, but Emmett was dragged out of it by the sudden inclusion of Phoebe into his field of view, her hurt words. The second he heard them his heart sunk; he knew he had caused a rift that would be hard to close up...but he didn't know that it was one he could close. He hadn't said anything he didn't believe. "Aw now Bee, I didn' mean you..." He began to say, but then he followed Phoebe's shocked eyes out to the Spire. There was a girl being attacked by the demon but he did not know of her importance to Phoebe at all. "...D...do ya know her?" Emmett asked, unsure if they were putting aside the argument for immediate life-or-death concerns but coming to stand by her anyway, gently touching her shoulder. Ok, Here It Goes

Phoebe I know I am good at something, I just haven't found it yet "Yes you did. I'm an Outlander. You made it pretty clear exactly what you thought of me." Phoebe said quietly, her voice tight, limbs trembling. He thought so poorly of her despite everything he had said? Everything they'd been through? It was all just a bunch of lies? She swallowed lump in her throat, trying not to dwell on it. But as he touched her shoulder she jerked it away, eyes locked on the fight below. "That's my sister in law." she said quietly, her voice and hands trembling. "So another dumb, disrespectful Outlander. So why do you care?" she snapped at Emmett.

"That is my daughter fighting down there. So if you could all keep a civil tongue in your fucking heads until I know whether I'm carrying her corpse home, I would sincerely appreciate it." Vervain was going to stay at the cabin. She'd been sitting there for a while, in fact, rocking Ronin's daughter and contemplating the future of her own children, when she realised that sitting idly by and waiting for news wasn't her way at all. So she had bundled Aoife up, slung her bow and quiver over her shoulder (just in case) and set off for the Spire, unsurprised to find a crowd gathered there already. No, the surprise was to hear Rory - Rory of all people, when they had hunted together and watched each other's backs - spit such vitriol towards the lonely quartet in the distance. Before Vai could get her own words out, a voice rose up above the rest and spoke the same sentiments that burned upon her tongue. And it was Kalt who turned out to be the owner of the voice - no one would be more stunned than Vai. Nonetheless, with her eyes on the fight that had so unceremoniously begun, she moved to stand beside the assassin. "Well said," she muttered. vervain well i'll rest my eyes and i'll let the earth breathe

RORY

Okay.

That went...

Like. Awfully. Yeah, true, he'd been staring daggers at Rexanna, because she happened to say some bullshit that he heard, and while his voice had been growls and venom and his pulse was hot and fast, he hadn't meant to.. uhh... cause this. He'd just wanted to take his anger out on the unsuspecting Outlander and bitch and moan with Evie and Amalia.

Not turn everything into some sort of contest where everyone tried to both have the bigger dick and be the better person at the same time.

Well. Best to state it, for clarity's sake, as he hadn't in his first outpouring of vitriol: not all Outlanders.

Not all Naturals, either.

Rory was tired and angry, not a blind brick-head.

There was Deimos, asking a question that was relevant and seemed much too gentle for the easily-alarmed giant. There was also Maea, annoying him immensely by being rational at first, and then a doormat. Evie struck at her like a viper though, leaving Rory to swallow retort after retort, until his mouth tasted bitter with it.

And there was Jigano, mostly silent, standing very close to him, as some other Outlander went on a very length, Natural-bashing rant that had Rory alternating between a lot of moods. His fists clenched, his eyes sparked, and he contemplated various courses of actions: ignoring her? Punching her in the face? Summoning wolves on her?

Wessex saved him (or robbed him of his chance to spit the dust from his mouth). And the Palmer boy, Emmett, echoed the sentiments voiced by many of the Naturals.

Someone else was shouting. Vervain wasn't precisely shouting, but her voice carried.

Rory felt like stabbing himself (or someone else; he wasn't picky) in the face.

Instead, he threw his hands in the air. "Okay, let me just set a few things straight," he began, shouting if he had to. "First of all, I'm angry, so I only mean about half of what I say. That's usually the case with angry people. Second. Watching your loved ones try to take on the demon? That's something most of us have done. And most of us have buried or burned them, or what's left of them, if any of it could be safely retrieved. I'm sorry, but they chose to face the demon. No one made them. We've all told them it's most likely a death sentence. The reason I'm mad is—" And he took a deep breath. "—is because what if they succeed? We have no idea what'll happen if they do. No preparations made. I said wait, Wessex said we'll do this together; that didn't happen. They took it upon themselves to make decisions for the couple of thousands of us, and none of us are ready. So, like, yeah, do what you want, but thanks for possibly fucking us over without thinking too deeply about it?"

He was still angry; it was written in the lines of his face, the way his eyes smoldered. He felt like taking someone's face off. He felt.. like a lot of things.

He also felt guilty, Deimos's gentle question haunting him, Jigano's warmth so tauntingly close. Besides, the group had engaged the demon, and though Rory had watched people die to it before, it wasn't like he enjoyed doing it.

He didn't want to get embroiled in some sort of shouting match, not more than he already was. His anger with a lot of the Outlander attitudes ran deep, back to his first meeting with them (not Remi, no, never Remi, but the other, Elyna). He still thought a lot of them were full of bullshit, and that their attitudes needed some serious adjusting, but all this.. gods, why did everyone have a half-inch fuse all of a sudden? Everyone just fanning the flames on all sides, until the whole fucking world burned.

Feeling done and fed up with it all, he tried to first look at Amalia and Evie and Wessex, a sort of.. apology? For leaving? Then he turned towards Jigano, trying to catch his eyes, reaching out to try and touch his wrist: another silent apology.

Then he stalked away from the group, hoping they'd stop squabbling.

And hoping that some of the Outlanders would stop feeling special.

And hoping that they all wouldn't die horribly.

But like, fat chance of that happening.

[ Rory does't leave the thread, just breaks away from the group. ]

as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.

REXANNA there's a rotten flower in her mouth, and a bullet hole in yours. Rexanna had been anticipating a solemn gathering, quiet speech between person to person about the events going on. A place for them to get along, Natural and Outlander, but that wasn’t the case. It had been fine until Rory approached, whom she had first officially met in a way that he likely didn’t remember. How she had forgone all warnings the Naturals had left them. ’Whatever you do, do not open that door.’ And what had she done? Opened the door. To find a burnt and bleeding Rory and a harried Jigano at the doorstep. It had been something she thought about often, and she wanted to smile to Rory and tell him that she was glad he had healed. But it died in her mind the minute he began to stare at her, like his iceberg gaze alone could freeze her in place and his words, dark and angry (seemingly aimed at her despite the others that stood around). And she found her own sapphire gaze staring back at him – her mouth forming a frown as the anger burned within her. She had done nothing but save his life with Jigano’s that Longnight. And he had the gall to say they didn’t care about the Natural’s one bit. She didn’t even hear as the others chimed in, and a bickering match started – all she could do was keep her eyes on Rory and formulate her words – praying to Frey that ’thank god I can talk correctly now’ and ’he deserves to get his words thrown back at him’. The woman inhaled sharply, arms crossing over her chest as the others continued to bicker, but she only had eyes for Rory in that moment. “Say what you will, but we didn’t choose to come here. It’s not like we stood around waiting for the portal to open and pray it came here to ruin your lives..” She began, her voice a sharp edged blade that it had never been in her entire time in Caido. Anyone that knew her would likely have never heard that type of voice come out of her. It sounded almost royal. Almost. As if she dug into that past part of her that wore masks and fake smiles, who could bring someone down with a few simple nonchalant words. It wasn’t her intention to try any of that with Rory, it was just a familiar face to wear in the middle of all the fireworks surrounding them. But she did hear Maea, a woman whom she hadn’t met yet defend her in the face of Rory. But the anger was still bristling on her, and she chewed on her cheek for a moment while she regarded what was before her. “It’s not our intention to come here and destroy everything. We’re trying to better it. We know the situation of the farmlands, and the strange things that continue to happen. We know that the increase of population won’t be sustainable in this bubble. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with an outside opinion.” She huffed, her gaze narrowing on Rory. “Sometimes we don’t listen, but sometimes it works out too.” She snapped. “Like when all of you Naturals embedded into our minds to not open the doors on Longnight, and yet I was there to open it for you. So forgive me when I say that I don’t give a fuck about what your opinions on us are now. We're here for a common goal.” It was then when things calmed down, and she listened as Rory seemed to explain himself. A shake of her head sent her dark hair rippling along her neck, but she – like Rory – was done standing beside the Naturals whom she thought she had befriended, and instead turned to stand beside Deimos, arms still folded and a sigh escaping her lips as she looked back to the group attacking the spire. She didn’t agree with the small amount of people they had brought, but there was nothing to do now. It was wasting precious breaths to argue over it now. {Rex yells at Rory and then goes and stands by Deimos bc he\'s her best friend} beauty has always been deadlier, than the battlefield you call home.

People were afraid, feeling helpless and anxious about what was happening at the spire, and being helpless made many people angry. The bard was no stranger to the emotion, but he made his living by knowing when to keep his emotions hidden and when it was safe to give them rein.

This gathering, turning from a vigil to a warzone, was no place for one more loose temper.

The anger from the naturals, however, was... well, natural. He could recognize it, understand it, even empathize with it... And still be frustrated that they hadn't seen fit to speak up sooner. He had called a meeting specifically to ask for everyone's input on where to go if - if - the assault was successful, but only a handful had come, and where had these discussions been then? Or during the Deepfrost townhall meeting? Or at any other time?

No, the resentment had been building since before his own portal had dropped him in, simmering just below the surface, festering until now -now, with the spire demon slavering after their companions beneath the noonday sun - fear broke it loose and let it run like blood across the collection of witnesses that seemed on the edge of becoming a brawl.

Maea spoke with quiet confidence for peace, and Jigano was proud of her for it. Sam... huddled away from everyone, lost to all but the sight of his lover amid the chaos that raged beside the Spire no less than here. The bard frowned as Zariah - rude, insulting woman - seemed to take a certain malicious glee in stoking the fires around her. But with several of the naturals already angry at an 'us vs. them' dichotomy, another outlander trying to take charge from them would only make things worse. The lorekeeper sighed, gaze fixed and jaw set as he watched the Demon attack Roana, watched the counterattack as Isuma shivered on his shoulder, hunched down and hiding in his hair--

Beside him, Rory spoke up again, and that finally drew blue eyes from the carnage at play in the distance. He drew in a breath... and then held it, letting his friend finish. Like the others who had spoken up, they were words that needed saying. Needed letting out, before healing could begin. Obviously not all outlanders were engaged in this madness - there were enough of them here, watching, to prove that. Jigano would have urged more patience, more research, but then, he was never going to be at the vanguard of such an attack. It was easier for him to rationalize waiting, when he didn't need to wonder if the day of the attack would be his last.

But there was little he could do where he was but cause more strife by speaking up and making the rift deeper. When Rory looked to him, so silently hurting and angry and sad, the corners of Jigano's eyes softened and he gave a small nod at the gentle touch at his wrist. As the hunter strode away, tense and still on edge, the bard walked at his side until they had a little distance from the group, and a little privacy for a moment. Only then did he reach out to brush his knuckles against the back of his friend's hand, offering comfort if the other man wanted the contact, though not pressing to take his hand if Rory made no move in return. Now that they were away from the shouting, Isuma peeked out tentatively from between silver strands of his hair. "May I stay with you," he asked softly, eyes on the fight that might determine nothing new... or everything, "while we wait to know what tomorrow will bring?" Funeral pyres... or a step closer to the freedom that so many both craved and feared with equal fervor?

---

Jigano is disheartened by the bickering but realizes that anything he says will only make the naturals who are angry even madder. He goes apart with Rory to watch from a quieter vantage.