You should've let me die. Jigano’s blood ran cold in that moment, feeling the sharp bite of fear in remembering how close Rory had come to dying. And if they hadn’t been let in it might have been all three of them dead and gone by the time morning’s light returned to the world – bard, gryphon, and hunter alike. He gave Rexanna a pleading glance after Rory turned away, a silent apology and promise to make it up to her later, but there was a brittleness beneath the hunter’s fire, a sharpness that cut himself as surely as he cut others with it, and Jigano couldn’t turn away from the man who had showed him such gentleness.
Couldn’t… and wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to. Rory had held up a light for him when he had thought he had consigned himself to shadow, and shown him a way past the rocky shoals of night to a kinder shore. He wouldn’t leave his friend to face his own storm alone, not unless his presence did more harm than good.
He gave Deimos a quiet nod of support over his shoulder as he headed away, impressed by the big man’s calm and persistently quiet rationality he tried to exert on the incensed gathering. Jigano wished him the best of luck, but for once he chose the selfish path, the desire to help the one instead of the many. He had locked away his heart before, in the name of the ‘greater good’ and taken on a burden he had stumbled under, alone. This time… would be different.
He was different.
Few things could prove that more than the silent brush of skin to skin, or the way his twisting stomach began to calm whenRory took his hand, tracing lines in something neither meditation nor mantra but that nevertheless grounded the fox and gave him a place to belong. His fingers twitched as the hunter explored the lines and calluses of sword and string, wanting to return the restless caress but—
There were people fighting for their lives and the freedom of an entire community – whether those people wanted it or not – below them. It was the first time he had seen the demon in the flesh, but he had read up on it and in truth it was going too well. Too easily. Remi’s trap of earth left an echo of 108’s words in Jigano’s memory, and he combined it with the assassin’s lightning like they had practiced it a dozen times. A perfect cage, a flurry of fire… ”It’s trying to, but…” he started to answer, a frown furrowing his own brow, but Remi’s uncharacteristic clumsiness cost the young man skin and the grace of his wings, and Jigano bit back a curse before he saw the alchemist rise with a new weapon in hand.
He didn’t even get the chance to relax before the victory, nearly assured a moment ago, turned suddenly to panic. Ronin was down, his blood watering the spring-damp earth, and his fellow warriors reacted as individuals rather than a unit. The bard hissed, his fingers curling suddenly around Rory’s as he fought the urge to fling himself across the sky on white wings and provide aerial support. It wasn’t as though he could do anything else, his powers lost and useless as he had now become—
Isuma Reep!ed softly, talons digging through the padding on his shoulder to reclaim his attention, and he jerked his head in the direction her fascinated yellow gaze had fixed, where Ludo embraced Maea and taunted Kalt. Seeing the god present and entertained did nothing to reassure the bard, and he turned his eyes immediately back to the fight, leaving Isuma to watch the masked rags with kittenish curiosity.
”There will be plenty of work for the healers after this,” he murmured to his friend, a grim sort of optimism in the statement that it would be healers they would need, and not undertakers.
Couldn’t… and wouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to. Rory had held up a light for him when he had thought he had consigned himself to shadow, and shown him a way past the rocky shoals of night to a kinder shore. He wouldn’t leave his friend to face his own storm alone, not unless his presence did more harm than good.
He gave Deimos a quiet nod of support over his shoulder as he headed away, impressed by the big man’s calm and persistently quiet rationality he tried to exert on the incensed gathering. Jigano wished him the best of luck, but for once he chose the selfish path, the desire to help the one instead of the many. He had locked away his heart before, in the name of the ‘greater good’ and taken on a burden he had stumbled under, alone. This time… would be different.
He was different.
Few things could prove that more than the silent brush of skin to skin, or the way his twisting stomach began to calm when
There were people fighting for their lives and the freedom of an entire community – whether those people wanted it or not – below them. It was the first time he had seen the demon in the flesh, but he had read up on it and in truth it was going too well. Too easily. Remi’s trap of earth left an echo of 108’s words in Jigano’s memory, and he combined it with the assassin’s lightning like they had practiced it a dozen times. A perfect cage, a flurry of fire… ”It’s trying to, but…” he started to answer, a frown furrowing his own brow, but Remi’s uncharacteristic clumsiness cost the young man skin and the grace of his wings, and Jigano bit back a curse before he saw the alchemist rise with a new weapon in hand.
He didn’t even get the chance to relax before the victory, nearly assured a moment ago, turned suddenly to panic. Ronin was down, his blood watering the spring-damp earth, and his fellow warriors reacted as individuals rather than a unit. The bard hissed, his fingers curling suddenly around Rory’s as he fought the urge to fling himself across the sky on white wings and provide aerial support. It wasn’t as though he could do anything else, his powers lost and useless as he had now become—
Isuma Reep!ed softly, talons digging through the padding on his shoulder to reclaim his attention, and he jerked his head in the direction her fascinated yellow gaze had fixed, where Ludo embraced Maea and taunted Kalt. Seeing the god present and entertained did nothing to reassure the bard, and he turned his eyes immediately back to the fight, leaving Isuma to watch the masked rags with kittenish curiosity.
”There will be plenty of work for the healers after this,” he murmured to his friend, a grim sort of optimism in the statement that it would be healers they would need, and not undertakers.
