Of course she was going to be careful with his feathers! Wasn't he always careful with hers? Jigano had to stifle a laugh at the mishmash of emotions and images her strong response at Rory's cautionary tone evoked in his companion. He had extended his arm in the hope that the hunter would take it, or his hand, or... do something else, that the bard didn't quite want to imagine in any detail in such a crowded, public place. What he hadn't expected was the way Rory paused to savor the sight of him, giving him a very obvious once-over in a way he was almost used to--
But not from this man. This man, whose opinion of his appearance mattered more than anyone else's.
If there was a flush to his skin, he could claim it was just the excitement of the festival, and not the desire to reach up and run his fingers through the tousled mane that tumbled down one side of his friend's face, soft and gleaming in the sun. To distractRory from his slow appraisal, and raise heat in those fine-boned cheeks to match his own. To--
Words that were just this side of a sly purr focused his attention on the present, and not the possible future, and the bard's smile widened in return, even as something in his eyes softened. "Only a pale echo of your brilliant sun and shadow," he murmured, tucking Rory's hand close as they came together in a way that was becoming comfortably familiar, almost instinctual. He wrinkled his nose initially at the proffered mug, but at the floral aroma his brows rose and he accepted it for a smooth pull. "That is... impressive," he agreed, licking his lip to catch the last drops as he handed the mug back.
"Perhaps we should find something to eat with it? I passed a place where they had fried Magna Vermis that smelled positively divine," he suggested with a sly smile of his own as Isuma settled onto Rory's shoulder to watch the festival, her pale coloration gleaming and offset far better against his dark tunic and golden hair.
And so the pair set off into the crowd, perchance to run into more friends along the way!
But not from this man. This man, whose opinion of his appearance mattered more than anyone else's.
If there was a flush to his skin, he could claim it was just the excitement of the festival, and not the desire to reach up and run his fingers through the tousled mane that tumbled down one side of his friend's face, soft and gleaming in the sun. To distract
Words that were just this side of a sly purr focused his attention on the present, and not the possible future, and the bard's smile widened in return, even as something in his eyes softened. "Only a pale echo of your brilliant sun and shadow," he murmured, tucking Rory's hand close as they came together in a way that was becoming comfortably familiar, almost instinctual. He wrinkled his nose initially at the proffered mug, but at the floral aroma his brows rose and he accepted it for a smooth pull. "That is... impressive," he agreed, licking his lip to catch the last drops as he handed the mug back.
"Perhaps we should find something to eat with it? I passed a place where they had fried Magna Vermis that smelled positively divine," he suggested with a sly smile of his own as Isuma settled onto Rory's shoulder to watch the festival, her pale coloration gleaming and offset far better against his dark tunic and golden hair.
And so the pair set off into the crowd, perchance to run into more friends along the way!
