If the mirror is too warped, there are still other ways, the raven acknowledged with a wry mental chuckle, even as Isuma chirruped her approval of Cera's teasing good humor, patting his ear with a gentle foretalon. When self-reflection does not suffice, danger and fear often provide the impetus to shift to a form that can better hide, or flee, or fight. It's not the preferred method, but it's a fairly common one here. The admission was a bit rueful, and he cocked his head at his new friend with dry amusement. I am not right nearly as often as I would like to be... and often when I am, I wish I wasn't! He had a bad habit of predicting the worst, which all too often came to pass...
Cera lit up as brightly as Caiside once had, and the raven chortled, flipping his wings as if to perish the thought. Not a proper crafter, but my father was one, he explained. I learned whether I wanted to or not. At the time I didn't appreciate the lessons but now... well. Now I find myself returning to the forge at times, to honor his memory. He would never have Caiside's skill, much less Old Smitty's, but he could heat the coals, read the color shifts, and pound iron, silver, and gold into simple shapes.
Talk of soldiering brought them around to weightier subjects, and Jigano fluttered to a new branch before dipping his head in agreement as he watched Cera and Isuma catch up. She pushes too far, too fast, he agreed grimly. This place has not known a ruler in generations. On the surface there might be fearful obedience, but underneath... be aware, Cera, that the city seethes. He croaked a quiet counterpoint to his words, but the unexpected question and concern over his personal safety was touching from a stranger who had so many other things to worry about, and Jigano fluffed his feathers as he debated on his answer.
I am... not known for my obedience to tyrants, he said at last. But I am safe so long as I keep my wits about me and do not let her guards catch me, he added, with that wry amusement that underlay so much of his manner.
Cera lit up as brightly as Caiside once had, and the raven chortled, flipping his wings as if to perish the thought. Not a proper crafter, but my father was one, he explained. I learned whether I wanted to or not. At the time I didn't appreciate the lessons but now... well. Now I find myself returning to the forge at times, to honor his memory. He would never have Caiside's skill, much less Old Smitty's, but he could heat the coals, read the color shifts, and pound iron, silver, and gold into simple shapes.
Talk of soldiering brought them around to weightier subjects, and Jigano fluttered to a new branch before dipping his head in agreement as he watched Cera and Isuma catch up. She pushes too far, too fast, he agreed grimly. This place has not known a ruler in generations. On the surface there might be fearful obedience, but underneath... be aware, Cera, that the city seethes. He croaked a quiet counterpoint to his words, but the unexpected question and concern over his personal safety was touching from a stranger who had so many other things to worry about, and Jigano fluffed his feathers as he debated on his answer.
I am... not known for my obedience to tyrants, he said at last. But I am safe so long as I keep my wits about me and do not let her guards catch me, he added, with that wry amusement that underlay so much of his manner.
