safrin
Oh, she heard the oncoming but just as surely as any sailor worth their salt could sense a storm. Her expression grew stern, eyes cold and distant like the galactic hell she'd placed him in for hubris not unlike that which he was about to show.
"To spite Ludo?" She laughed coldly at that. "Here you are again, thinking you know oh so much more than you ever could possibly." None of them fully understood the layers of friction between herself and Ludo. And likely, none ever would. But that she'd call Jigano to her now had much more to do with the winds of change and the role he might play in the future of the world.
"You are as full of yourself as ever Jigano and though I never thought I'd cured you of it, I thought perhaps you'd have learned enough about both you and I to be honest with me, if no one else." There was only a shade of truth to his words, but she saw the fullness of it just the same. "For the second time tonight Sage, let me remind you that once you are gone from this world, there won't be those who lament over the tombs of your life. There will be no one wide-eyed around a fire, hearing tales of how Jigano Silversmith rightfully earned his place amongst the gods, how everything was just so and done in the right and proper order. The lies you've made the narration of your life, fool no one, except perhaps you.
This is no story to be found in my library, nor your halls beneath the Settlement. There is no hero's struggle. No rising action. No cathartic release. There is only what is, and right now, all that there is, is a foolish man crawling after the cloak of a raggedy god he knows precious little about, forgoing the things he wants because they won't sound as noble in a song."
What he might think of as tolerance was much worse than that. It was frosty and thick repudiation. If Jigano wanted to see the goddess rise up one out of spite, he needed only now to wait. The Sage might have been a worthy candidate for her needs, but there were others who would do. Others she would now lavish, quite out of spite, that the heights of her praise for them might cast the bard in shadow forever.
"To spite Ludo?" She laughed coldly at that. "Here you are again, thinking you know oh so much more than you ever could possibly." None of them fully understood the layers of friction between herself and Ludo. And likely, none ever would. But that she'd call Jigano to her now had much more to do with the winds of change and the role he might play in the future of the world.
"You are as full of yourself as ever Jigano and though I never thought I'd cured you of it, I thought perhaps you'd have learned enough about both you and I to be honest with me, if no one else." There was only a shade of truth to his words, but she saw the fullness of it just the same. "For the second time tonight Sage, let me remind you that once you are gone from this world, there won't be those who lament over the tombs of your life. There will be no one wide-eyed around a fire, hearing tales of how Jigano Silversmith rightfully earned his place amongst the gods, how everything was just so and done in the right and proper order. The lies you've made the narration of your life, fool no one, except perhaps you.
This is no story to be found in my library, nor your halls beneath the Settlement. There is no hero's struggle. No rising action. No cathartic release. There is only what is, and right now, all that there is, is a foolish man crawling after the cloak of a raggedy god he knows precious little about, forgoing the things he wants because they won't sound as noble in a song."
What he might think of as tolerance was much worse than that. It was frosty and thick repudiation. If Jigano wanted to see the goddess rise up one out of spite, he needed only now to wait. The Sage might have been a worthy candidate for her needs, but there were others who would do. Others she would now lavish, quite out of spite, that the heights of her praise for them might cast the bard in shadow forever.
