The kiss—for there was no mistaking it—took him by surprise. He had not thought.. had not expected.. had known, for they both seemed to do that, but hadn't.. just plain hadn't, an unfinished thought as a small shiver went through suddenly tense muscles. Briefly he reevaluated his decision to not floor Jigano, but despite the way his gut coiled with a sudden warm excitement he came to the same conclusion: it could wait.
But it chased the last of the darkness from his eyes, leaving them once more gentle and inquiring, open and soft. He was not fool enough to think that everything was as it had been five minutes ago, because in some subtle ways they were both changed—that was just the nature of things.
But Jigano was no longer cowering from a blow Rory had not understood he had given.
He still wasn't sure exactly what about the whole thing that had affected the other so, but Jigano's lips against his fingers were a silent promise among many other silent promises, saying that there would be time to know that. And Rory did not want to ask for more, was not one to press in such a situation.
Instead, he reached up to stroke the happier Isuma, trading the warmth of Jigano's lips for the warmth of her small, vibrating body. If her mood was anything to go by—which it had mere minutes ago—they had made it past the rocky shoals, and Rory was more than willing to relax again. A smile, almost lazy in nature despite how genuine it was, curved his mouth at Jigano's reassurance, and then he laughed as he was tugged up and onto his feet.
Outside was a good choice, but he stilled briefly as he caught the change in Jigano's voice. There was a shyness in it, one he knew very well, one he felt too, in the way his gaze once more began to linger yet always fluttered away when he was found out. A slow, hesitant search, to see where they would meet, fumbling in the dark—soothed by the assurance that they were both fumbling around.
It was a throwback to his youth, to being a teenage boy who believed in something, who wanted something more than just a night's giving and taking. It coiled in his belly, an unfamiliar flutter, one he had not indulged in for so long.
He didn't know where it would go, but it was too late to turn back now.
He just knew that the words had him feeling warm.
The smile on his face grew into a lopsided grin, and tugging Jigano with him he began to stride out the door, while grandly declaring "Oh Fiat Lux sun! Let thy bright rays fall upon this yellow straw, and turn it golden!" and throwing out his free hand in an equally grand gesture.
Then he blinked in the sunlight. They should probably get something to sit on.. while the sun warmed the ground it was still a little moist from the most recent shower, and he might as well fetch something to work on. "Let me just go get some things from the workshop," he said, giving Jigano's hand a squeeze before extracting his fingers and striding into the relative gloom of it.
From the shadowed, forgotten corner shared by his greatcoat he pulled out two subpar goat hides. He had made some mistakes when skinning them, leaving them useless for quality goods, so he'd just scraped them clean and salted them and waxed them, leaving the fur attached on the other side. He draped them over one arm before stopping by his workbench; several projects laid scattered on it. Fine, thin rawhide, some woodwork that was the basis of his lanterns, a boot in need of a new sole, a broad armband (more like half a bracer, really) with the beginnings of a flame engraving, a couple of half-finished pouches, and some folded up leather sheets that were supposed to become a butcher's apron.
He grabbed the rawhide and the lantern frames, along with some tools and a small bucket filled with water, and stepped back into the light outside. Silently he offered Jigano the arm with the goat hides.
But it chased the last of the darkness from his eyes, leaving them once more gentle and inquiring, open and soft. He was not fool enough to think that everything was as it had been five minutes ago, because in some subtle ways they were both changed—that was just the nature of things.
But Jigano was no longer cowering from a blow Rory had not understood he had given.
He still wasn't sure exactly what about the whole thing that had affected the other so, but Jigano's lips against his fingers were a silent promise among many other silent promises, saying that there would be time to know that. And Rory did not want to ask for more, was not one to press in such a situation.
Instead, he reached up to stroke the happier Isuma, trading the warmth of Jigano's lips for the warmth of her small, vibrating body. If her mood was anything to go by—which it had mere minutes ago—they had made it past the rocky shoals, and Rory was more than willing to relax again. A smile, almost lazy in nature despite how genuine it was, curved his mouth at Jigano's reassurance, and then he laughed as he was tugged up and onto his feet.
Outside was a good choice, but he stilled briefly as he caught the change in Jigano's voice. There was a shyness in it, one he knew very well, one he felt too, in the way his gaze once more began to linger yet always fluttered away when he was found out. A slow, hesitant search, to see where they would meet, fumbling in the dark—soothed by the assurance that they were both fumbling around.
It was a throwback to his youth, to being a teenage boy who believed in something, who wanted something more than just a night's giving and taking. It coiled in his belly, an unfamiliar flutter, one he had not indulged in for so long.
He didn't know where it would go, but it was too late to turn back now.
He just knew that the words had him feeling warm.
The smile on his face grew into a lopsided grin, and tugging Jigano with him he began to stride out the door, while grandly declaring "Oh Fiat Lux sun! Let thy bright rays fall upon this yellow straw, and turn it golden!" and throwing out his free hand in an equally grand gesture.
Then he blinked in the sunlight. They should probably get something to sit on.. while the sun warmed the ground it was still a little moist from the most recent shower, and he might as well fetch something to work on. "Let me just go get some things from the workshop," he said, giving Jigano's hand a squeeze before extracting his fingers and striding into the relative gloom of it.
From the shadowed, forgotten corner shared by his greatcoat he pulled out two subpar goat hides. He had made some mistakes when skinning them, leaving them useless for quality goods, so he'd just scraped them clean and salted them and waxed them, leaving the fur attached on the other side. He draped them over one arm before stopping by his workbench; several projects laid scattered on it. Fine, thin rawhide, some woodwork that was the basis of his lanterns, a boot in need of a new sole, a broad armband (more like half a bracer, really) with the beginnings of a flame engraving, a couple of half-finished pouches, and some folded up leather sheets that were supposed to become a butcher's apron.
He grabbed the rawhide and the lantern frames, along with some tools and a small bucket filled with water, and stepped back into the light outside. Silently he offered Jigano the arm with the goat hides.
