RORY
i told the stars about you
He was starting to feel a little better: less savage. Less likely to bite. He was slightly ashamed that he had needed to sandpaper away all his sharp edges with alcohol of all things, but Fiat Lux was a lot more pleasurable when a pleasant sort of warmth simmered in his blood; when a laugh was closer than a snarl. He was more at ease. He was .. beginning to feel like being social. Jigano had left him to his own devices, but Isuma remained perched on his dark shoulder, a white and fabulous bright spot that seemed more interested in playing with the tendrils of his hair (or just napping) than interacting with anyone he stopped to chitchat with.Phoebe had given him a nice flower crown, which had an uneasy truce with the topmost feather he wore. For now, it seemed like no war would break out, but he was a little (foolishly, perhaps) worried he'd lose either of them.
Not that the feather itself would be a loss, really, but it would ruin his looks...
With a tankard of honey beer in one hand Rory wove through the crowd, looking for someone in particular. Meeting Phoebe had brought a certain conflict to the front of his mind, and it had left him a little uneasy and anxious—a strange contrast now that he had begun to feel better in general.
What do all of you want?
The calm, the curiosity, how genuine the question—Rory had meant to seek out the giant after that incident, to make amends, somehow, offer explanations if wanted.. but everything had happened so quickly after that, that he simply hadn't had the time, and then, despite whipping up a mob in the name of anti-Outlanderism, he had sort of forgotten about it. Thought that it was all over and done with, now that the Spire was breached and the barrier brought low and a renegade would-be God let on the loose again.
Meeting Phoebe had made him acutely aware of how not over and done with it was. Rory thought he had caught sight of the man in the crowd previously, but he had still been prickly as a porcupine and skulked off. But now, ah...
There he was, surrounded by soap bubbles shimmering in the sunlit air. Rory stopped for a moment. It was a scene that needed savoring, a sudden reminder of how Deimos had looked there in Devas Bakery: so curious and absorbed by his pumpkin slaughter that he had seemed almost gentle. Like a cat unaware that you were watching it. And it was the same now. The alert, wary warrior could likely be called out again by just the merest hint of danger, but here, at the peace of the festival...
He didn't know Deimos. He didn't know Deimos at all.
But he still felt a fierce fondness for the man, mixed in with a (likely very unneeded) desire to protect him. To make sure he was warm and safe and comfortable and happy.
It was odd as hell, but he'd take it.
With a sip of beer for courage Rory slithered through the crowd, coming up next to the mountain of a man. He reached out a finger to capture a bubble. It shimmered on the pad of his finger. "Hello, Deimos. Happy Fiat Lux. Are you enjoying yourself?"
Even creatures left too long in the dark should get to enjoy themselves at Fiat Lux. And besides, it was a perfect time to drag them into the light.
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.
