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

RORY

What played out before them—the struggle between hopeful, ambitious mortals and the ever-present guardian of (presumably) their 'freedom'—was the reason Rory had grown up to be the distanced creature he had become. He had loved easily and freely as a child, had been part of his little pack, sought friendship, warmth, among the other young outcasts in Caido society. Rory hadn't been particularly brave, but quirky and loyal.

But one by one, they had died, disappeared, or lost touch when they delved into relationships, businesses, and families. And at the end of a summer nearly a decade ago, Evie Wordsworth had been taken from him: not by death, not by other obligations, but by her parents, who deemed her happiness less important than making a match as befitting of her stature. Or something like that.

He had touched many since, and been touched by many. He'd had the occasional round of beer with acquaintances at the Rathskeller. He'd gone hunting with other trappers, chatted easily with the tanner, with his customers.

But he had still had his sister.

Until he didn't have her anymore, either, and the loneliness drove him right back into the waiting arms of friendships.

Dangerous, dangerous things; he knew how they ended, his eyes narrowed as he watched the trapped demon. Loss. Heartache. Your lifetime stretching before you, vast and empty and lonesome as it curved away beyond the horizon.

Yet there he was, watching as Remi fumbled, how it all went to shit, as it always did. The demon was out, behind Ronin, who fell, but wasn't defeated. Jigano's fingers curled around his. Rory wrapped his other hand around them, giving them a light squeeze.

There was nothing they could do, without dying too. He had tried to warn them, to tell them to wait, to.. maybe just accept being here... But they were watering the ground with more blood. Rory had seen it before; Jigano likely hadn't.

It was horrible, every time, but none quite as shocking as the first.

"Or none at all," he replied sadly, too much of a realist; he tried to be gentle, but he was still grumpy, and only vaguely aware of Ludo settling like a glorified scarf around Maea's shoulders. He had never known the god to take an interest in the battles against the demon before.

So, indeed: why now?

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