Well then.
That certainly .. robbed him of most of his words, leaving only some kind of emptiness inside of him. Only, it wasn't truly empty, because there were echoes of things in there. Echoes of anger, the soul-scorching kind he had never felt before; echoes of fear, numbing his tongue and sending his heart into a frenzy; echoes of annoyance, bleeding over into everything else.
And in that emptiness: Edy, moving to stand beside Roana. The snarl of her voice. Roana's grab for her wrist. The words, fire and poison, the crackle of flames coming into life around her hands. He swallowed, even as his mouth became a thin line, eyes flat.
He knew what that felt like. The scar snaking up his throat and across his cheek was born of those very flames.
He wanted to growl right back at her. Spit at her feet and ask how Ronin would feel about her making death threats over his name, point out how he was stopping them because they weren't getting past him, but the fire silenced him. His heart was pounding so loudly he thought that they must hear it, that they must smell it as every inch of his memory begged for him to capitulate.
But for once in his life, he would not back down. He set his jaw, tried to control his breathing, tensing his body against the shivers the sight of her unbridled fire woke in him. She advanced, but he refused to budge, his blue eyes wary, angry, something inside of him tearing in a way that could not possibly heal.
Again, the words died in his mouth, crumbling to ashes. Don't you think this would've happened if Naturals had brought the Demon down, too? he wanted to shout at her; don't you think we would've stopped some hotheaded fools from possibly dooming everything?
But barely had he wrestled his shallow breathing into control when the next onslaught came. As Vai—the only sensible person—departed, he felt his grave loom deeper, and closer. As Ashetta stared into his face, he stared right back. Blue sparked. Lightning crackled. Fire burned. It was the first time in his life that he dared to stand up for something, and still he got called a coward.
There was a roar building in his soul, but one that could never escape; one that ran along pathways that led to nothing, because what he wanted just wasn't there.
Abandoned.
His teeth bared in response to hers, but then she was gone, glass splinters ground into his skin by the way her body so effortlessly changed shape, slid away, an ink blot, blackness, a perfect shadow—
His eyes snapped back to Roana when she spoke, and through it all, his gaze was steady. His breathing did not falter. His posture did not change.
Did she think Wessex was the only one he had lost to the Demon? It was just the only one she knew about, and his flashing eyes narrowed just a fraction more. Like, fuck off, everyone had a trail of loss leading back to that damn creature, and his wasn't just one body long—no. There were more. And they weren't coming back, either.
But he had asked her if she knew anything of what it was like, and she answered, and he wanted that answer. He knew of cruelty—he had suffered at the hands of base humans, too—but not by some oppressive government, no, just by average people and outlaw packs, drifting around the barrier until they caused trouble one too many times.
He would not pretend to know what it was like. He merely stored the information away for later, and when she made her point about monsters, he felt like laughing bitterly in her face. I thought we needed a new one anyway, didn't I?
But he said nothing, sensing that they were dispersing, that this was the death throe bite, and he was very much not interested in baiting them into sticking around longer.
They were soldiers; he wasn't. They had been trained for conflict; he hadn't. It took all he had to not just get himself the fuck out of there, and he was soothed only slightly by the fact that lightning-hands had left. His nostrils flared as he watched Roana turn to leave, pausing by Edy to say something he didn't catch.
Rory's eyes burned with dry fire, just as his body burned with fear and anger, and he leveled his gaze upon them, saying nothing. Just waiting for them to go, or to throw the first stone.
That certainly .. robbed him of most of his words, leaving only some kind of emptiness inside of him. Only, it wasn't truly empty, because there were echoes of things in there. Echoes of anger, the soul-scorching kind he had never felt before; echoes of fear, numbing his tongue and sending his heart into a frenzy; echoes of annoyance, bleeding over into everything else.
And in that emptiness: Edy, moving to stand beside Roana. The snarl of her voice. Roana's grab for her wrist. The words, fire and poison, the crackle of flames coming into life around her hands. He swallowed, even as his mouth became a thin line, eyes flat.
He knew what that felt like. The scar snaking up his throat and across his cheek was born of those very flames.
He wanted to growl right back at her. Spit at her feet and ask how Ronin would feel about her making death threats over his name, point out how he was stopping them because they weren't getting past him, but the fire silenced him. His heart was pounding so loudly he thought that they must hear it, that they must smell it as every inch of his memory begged for him to capitulate.
But for once in his life, he would not back down. He set his jaw, tried to control his breathing, tensing his body against the shivers the sight of her unbridled fire woke in him. She advanced, but he refused to budge, his blue eyes wary, angry, something inside of him tearing in a way that could not possibly heal.
Again, the words died in his mouth, crumbling to ashes. Don't you think this would've happened if Naturals had brought the Demon down, too? he wanted to shout at her; don't you think we would've stopped some hotheaded fools from possibly dooming everything?
But barely had he wrestled his shallow breathing into control when the next onslaught came. As Vai—the only sensible person—departed, he felt his grave loom deeper, and closer. As Ashetta stared into his face, he stared right back. Blue sparked. Lightning crackled. Fire burned. It was the first time in his life that he dared to stand up for something, and still he got called a coward.
There was a roar building in his soul, but one that could never escape; one that ran along pathways that led to nothing, because what he wanted just wasn't there.
Abandoned.
His teeth bared in response to hers, but then she was gone, glass splinters ground into his skin by the way her body so effortlessly changed shape, slid away, an ink blot, blackness, a perfect shadow—
His eyes snapped back to Roana when she spoke, and through it all, his gaze was steady. His breathing did not falter. His posture did not change.
Did she think Wessex was the only one he had lost to the Demon? It was just the only one she knew about, and his flashing eyes narrowed just a fraction more. Like, fuck off, everyone had a trail of loss leading back to that damn creature, and his wasn't just one body long—no. There were more. And they weren't coming back, either.
But he had asked her if she knew anything of what it was like, and she answered, and he wanted that answer. He knew of cruelty—he had suffered at the hands of base humans, too—but not by some oppressive government, no, just by average people and outlaw packs, drifting around the barrier until they caused trouble one too many times.
He would not pretend to know what it was like. He merely stored the information away for later, and when she made her point about monsters, he felt like laughing bitterly in her face. I thought we needed a new one anyway, didn't I?
But he said nothing, sensing that they were dispersing, that this was the death throe bite, and he was very much not interested in baiting them into sticking around longer.
They were soldiers; he wasn't. They had been trained for conflict; he hadn't. It took all he had to not just get himself the fuck out of there, and he was soothed only slightly by the fact that lightning-hands had left. His nostrils flared as he watched Roana turn to leave, pausing by Edy to say something he didn't catch.
Rory's eyes burned with dry fire, just as his body burned with fear and anger, and he leveled his gaze upon them, saying nothing. Just waiting for them to go, or to throw the first stone.
