[Seasonal Event] Nog om allt som har dött

Oh the words that piled up on his tongue at Rory's joke, words sweet and foolish and sincere in a way that should have terrified him more than it did. Thief of poets' souls and hearts both, he might have said. Though can you really steal what has been freely given? But his tongue tied itself in knots at that, afraid of pushing too far, too fast, too soon when just sitting side-by-side and leaning on each other was a gift, a treasure, beyond price.

And so, uncharacteristically silent - though grinning with a flush to his own cheeks - he parted ways from the hunter so they could gather their tools and the materials of their trades. Reuniting was even sweeter for the momentary parting, especially when Rory's laugh danced along the back of the wind and set Isuma chirruping with shared joy. "I'd rather walk at your side than lead you anywhere," he teased back, but it was a bit too honest for teasing.

And it was a little ruined by his need to go ahead so he could lay the hides down - side by side, with a bit of overlap, so they could sit together again, close enough to touch, to lean on each other... An idea sparked in the bard's mind, a flicker of shy warmth as he unpacked his lapharp and began to tune it. "I was told the festival will have music and games and food," he said, head bowed and attention seemingly on his instrument - though he stole glances up from beneath pale lashes until Rory joined him on the ground. Gods most fortunate, the man was a force of nature, with the way he wore the sunshine like a mantle and spun from aching cold shadow to breath-taking light. "Is it the sort of thing one can attend... with a partner?" His voice was diffident, his question perhaps just a little hesitant, though Isuma was far less reserved as she romped around the pair and stuck her face into a stray tulip that had bloomed nearby, in the name of curious investigation.

Just like Jigano, Rory swallowed his retort, though some of the reasons differed. Where Jigano's response had been eloquent and very honest, Rory's was .. crude, and very honest. He appreciated Jigano's sentiment, he truly did, for a moment envisioning them racing along towards some distant and exciting future side-by-side (when did that even become a thing to fantasize about?) but the words he swallowed down were radically different: I just wanted to stare unabashedly at your ass.

It was true, and it was crude, but it wasn't the entire truth. The spill of pale hair, the tease of well-defined shoulders beneath clothing, just the shape of him... And besides, Rory wasn't quite ready to commit to brazen ass-staring just yet. That, too, could wait.

So with a smile playing on half of his mouth he walked beside Jigano towards the fencing. On the other side, Ella nosed among her goats, letting them spread out as there was no threat around. Several young kids capered around, or hung close to the sides of their mothers. Bakshi and Talys browsed the ground for the first of the spring grasses, though it had barely broken through. Esaia raised her head and watched them with dark, soft eyes.

"Hey girl," he called fondly to her, before putting down his water bucket and then folding himself down on the goatskin, rawhide and wood still in his arms. He settled himself with a grunt, close by without the risk of errant elbows connecting with fragile instruments or ribs. He began to lay out the first of the wood frames on his crossed legs, listening with the same sense of straying amazement as Jigano began to tune his harp.

Deft fingers began to put the lanterns together, two thin discs joined together by several thin poles. To keep the discs from sliding down the poles he knotted thin strips of leather just below them, head tilting towards Jigano when he spoke.

Something about the wording had him stilling in his work, fingers sweeping across the sanded wood without doing anything. A partner—what kind of partner, he wanted to ask, his tongue moving restlessly behind his teeth. "Well, yes," he ended up responding, sounding thoughtful as he glanced at Jigano. He seemed to have been absorbed by his harp. "There's lots of dancing, too," he added after a moment, wondering if Jigano danced as well as his body seemed to promise it would.

The sun was warm on their skin, and the breeze had faded to little more than playful skirls from time to time. They no longer needed to sit close together to share warmth, but Jigano enjoyed the closeness of camaraderie that they shared even without touching as Rory laid out his materials. The bard stole shameless glances at his friend's project as he finished tuning the strings and let his fingers slide comfortably over the harp, drawing out pure, soft notes from the mellow old instrument.

Isuma looked up at them as a moment silence fell between the bard's question and the shepherd's answer, her face yellow with pollen. For a moment her exuberance was stilled as Jigano held his breath, but as soon as Rory answered she was off frolicking again, chasing an early bumble bee that wanted nothing to do with her. "Ahhhh dancing," the fox nearly purred in satisfaction, his fingers coaxing a bright scattering of notes from his harp that melded into a cheery little tune to set toes tapping. "And do you dance, by chance?" he teased, blue eyes laughing as he glanced towards his friend - and this time met his gaze by accident. What he wouldn't give to hold the hunter close, he thought, when it wasn't comfort that Rory sought from him, but joy? To spin and laugh and return again to arms that he trusted not to let him go?

He realized that his fingers had gone still on the harp strings, and he ducked his head away as the blush suffused his cheeks, hiding behind a fall of white hair as he cleared his throat self-consciously. He started to pick at the strings again, this time plucking out the ghost of a melody that Rory's earlier poem had flowed to, and teasing out a few extemporaneous variations as he did so. "I mean... I'll need someone to show me the local dances, so I don't step on anyone's toes," he tried to recover, his voice light but his stomach flipping with the uncertainty of how far he was allowed to go.

Well.

Either dancing was Jigano's thing, or he took some very, very weird sadistic joy in watching the masses twirl. Rory put his bet on the former, though the idea of the fox-eyed bard smugly playing on his harp a tune that no one could stop dancing to had his soul grinning. It nearly seemed clairvoyant when Jigano's fingers worked out a merry jig, fast but with a clear tempo. Perfect for dancing.

Their gazes met and Rory felt like a child caught sneaking somewhere where he oughtn't be. Still he held onto his eyes for a moment, neither answering nor noticing the silence that began to envelop them.

He stopped breathing for a little while.

Then Jigano looked away with a small blush, hiding behind the curtain of his hair as he once more pulled a melody from the harp. Rory recognized it instantly, a shadow of what he had recited, and with a healthy warmth in his cheeks he looked back to the capering animals. He really hadn't pinned Jigano as someone who blushed so easily as he seemed to be doing, but he had to admit it was endearing, and it made him feel .. oddly good and satisfied, in some way that was difficult to explain.

"You look light as a feather, I don't think anyone would notice it if you did," he gently teased back, wanting to work Jigano back into the playfulness—but he simultaneously looked back to the project in his hands, and busied his fingers with finishing the frame he had in his lap. "But I do dance .. occasionally," he added with a brief, sly glance towards Jigano, before taking a sheaf of rawhide and working it into the water bucket.

Jigano had little reason to blush before coming to Caido. Oh, he could control the flush of anger or embarrassment, as any bard worth their salt could, but he had few enough opportunities to practice controlling his reactions to conversations of a more... intimate... bent. None that he had cared about before, at least. He'd had plenty of offers over the years, but none he had cared to take up, and considering the bawdy songs he was often asked to perform he was far from bothered about such things where they concerned other people. He hadn't expected to find himself with a personal stake in such matters, with the weight of the past he carried. It had left him with only the flimsiest of defenses now, and Rory's words and eyes and smile could slip past them and stroke playful fingers over his heart in a way he was unprepared for.

"Or at least I can hope they would be too gallant to bring it up," he teased back, stealing a glance through the pale fall of his hair to admire his companion's handsome profile - and the deftness of his long, elegant fingers as they worked away at... whatever Rory was making. He was reminded of his music at the sly rejoinder - one that sent a delicious shiver down his spine - and he laughed a little breathlessly as he struck up his harp in earnest, taking the bones of the earlier rhythm and spinning it into something familiar but new. "Is that so? Then...

The sun returns, and life renews,
So come put on your dancing shoes!"

His voice rang out, sweet and strong into the Flowerbirth air.

"Chorus bees dance on the breeze,
And blossoms fill the apple trees--"

Hmm. No, don't want to repeat dancing so soon. Better move that to the next verse," he muttered, his fingers slowing for a moment as he tilted his head back to the sky, eyes closed, and began to hum along with the song he played, seeking more words to fit the meter.

As he worked the stiff rawhide into the water Jigano launched into song, and Rory very promptly decided one thing: music was magic. It did not require spells or rituals, but it was magic all the same. The way the notes from the harp wove together with Jigano's voice, the way it touched his soul.. a small shiver passed through him, not from an urge to get up and dance, but from a sense of confusion and bewilderment: what had he done to end up sitting next to a man who was both beautiful and talented?

He shook his head slightly to himself, turning the rawhide in the bucket into a flexible mess so unlike the stiff sheet he had worked into it. He smiled at Jigano's muttering, bringing up the soaked sheet to fasten around one pole and then carefully wrap around the lantern. "I like it," he said into the music-filled silence, "but I agree you might save that verse for later." He smoothed the rawhide out, stretching it as he wrapped it, to make sure it would dry without wrinkles or buckles.

He did not offer any suggestions, though; he might have briefly stolen a poet's soul, but he felt like he had given it back already, too absorbed in his more hands-on craft.

Distracted by his music he missed the initial plunge of stiff rawhide into the water, or the way it softened as Rory worked it. It was his friend's voice that pulled him back down to earth, a smile blossoming at the quiet compliment that warmed him from within even  more effectively than the sun on his skin. "As my Queen's knight commands," he murmured back, teasingly. He glanced slyly to the man at his side, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of the now-pliant sheet of leather in the bucket. It was almost strange to see those elegant fingers at work, when he was so used to them being buried in his thick fur. The hunter was deft and sure, confident in his skills and working with his own rhythm that threatened to draw the fox in and leave him dancing evermore to the leatherworker's silent tune.

Gods most fortunate, what had he ever done to deserve sitting next to such a handsome, skilled creature?

Idle fingers continued to coax soft music from his harpstrings, but Jigano's focus had been momentarily broken and he was in no hurry to get it back as he enjoyed the quiet company. It was an interlude of peace they had both needed, and a reminder that there was more to living than simply surviving. A reminder that even in the little things there could be joy, and no matter how long or dark the night that there could be sunrise again.

It was only a matter of time before the sight of his companion working sparked fresh inspiration. If some of his verses turned towards thoughts of courting in the bright Flowerbirth sunshine, well, it was only to be expected in a song for the festival celebrating Rae, wasn't it?