RORY
Rory was still struggling a bit with that 'being civil' bit. He was a bear poked from hibernation and into the sunlight, conflicted about the warmth washing over his skin: part of him wanted to bask in it, the other wanted to snarl and return to his isolation. It seemed wrong (unfair?) to be enjoying himself at a festival when his world has so recently ended. Restless, Rory bit at his thumb as he loitered.He still wasn't over his own part in it, either—should he have tried to fight off Wessex and her cadre? Hah. He would've lasted a grand total of three seconds against four-five Ascended in the night.
So, should he have thrown himself in front of 108? Grappled with that old, old creature, to prevent them from releasing the Core?
What, then? Wessex might've taken their place, and then the Core would still be free, and Wessex incinerated.
Should he not have gone up the Spire at all? But it had been his future being unfolded. Surely he had a divine right to witness it? The thoughts chased themselves through his brain, snakes biting their tails and snapping their jaws at one another. He needed more time, to sort himself out, to.. to figure out what to do with everything.. the world...
He could still see the forest spreading out beneath the night sky when he closed his eyes.
Rory swallowed and reached up to scratch Isuma's chin for comfort. Jigano had left to play his harp with the musicians, urging the masses into dance, and Rory had taken the time to slink back to his favorite beer brewer and get his paws on more honey beer. It was cold and light and he had to exercise a surprising (and depressing) amount of willpower to not down it like his life depended on it. He wanted a slow, constant burn to take the damn edge off his mood, not to get piss-drunk and start vomiting.
A timid voice offered a greeting, and Rory turned his head. His mind riffled through memories, ending up in the darkness before Long Night: Phoebe. Right. Isuma, still perched on his shoulder, just gave her a cursory glance before returning to her self-care.
But, uh...
Rory blinked at her, sort of uncomprehending. Don't care for people like her? What aspect of her? Female? Blonde? It was the first time someone had brought up the contents of his little speech to his face, so his gears were very slow to turn. He had washed his hands of it beforehand when he had told Jigano he didn't mean it, and in the chaos of what had followed, with all the revelations and changes, his mind had apparently translated that to somehow have made it into the brains of all the Outlanders.
Which, of course, it hadn't.
"What?" he said, his eyebrows doing something complicated to further demonstrate his confusion. He looked at the offered pastry, and the offered crown. Physically, he could only take one, because he had a beer tankard in one hand. "Why wouldn't I care for you?" He sounded bewildered, but inclined his feathered head towards her to indicate she could crown him.
Clothes/style recap, because he's odd today: sort of snug-fitting black wool pants, dark blue shirt with a nice patterned trim, and a bright sash tied around his waist. His hair is done up sort of like feather guy here but less jpop, and his hair is longer.
as if you were on fire from within,
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
the moon lives in the lining of your skin.
