Jigano listened raptly, his wariness not forgotten but distanced a little by the story that was unfolding. No matter his uneasiness with her former profession, the bard in him could not simply walk away from such a tale! Then came mention of the Voice, and Jigano's eyes narrowed a fraction. Had the goddess attempted to take Ashetta among her Ascended? Except the goddess had still been sleeping then, hadn't she? And yet, the assassin-turned-messenger was like Remi, both Attuned and Abandoned. Perhaps it was not so strange that the new goddess had taken an interest in her.
Somehow he wasn't surprised to hear that something the Voice had done had upset a balance. Whether that was for good or ill he wasn't sure, but he had his suspicions. You came with the first wave from Northwind, yes? First, confirmation, to make sure his assumptions weren't completely baseless. That was before the Voice had been properly woken, I thought. It's possible that she didn't do whatever she did consciously. You're like Remi, one who can wield magic yet still shift into animal forms. Abandoned and Attuned, a paradox... and a powerful one. It's possible that in her slumber she grasped after that power, trying to claim it for her own as one of her children, but found your soul already too close to the old gods to complete your Ascension before you passed through the portal. A hypothesis that was more based in story than fact, he knew, but it was a place to begin. Confronting her might not gain you anything but being brought back to her attention.
He tilted his head, surprised and - though he didn't want to admit it - more than a little impressed that she had given away her immortality and showed no regret at its loss. Even if she had only found out about it right before she gave it up, it was still a test of character he would not have expected from an assassin, no matter how righteous she painted her fight against her guild. Giving up immortality to save the life of another? He did not know how many people she had killed, or how many deaths she would spend her life atoning for, but that was undeniably a mark on the other side of the ledger.
A far greater mark than he could claim, and he squirmed a little on the inside as the confrontation with his bias grew deeper. Would you tell me of Mort, please? he asked, instead of dealing with the embarrassing twist of guilt that soured his full stomach. What was he like? He had Safrin's stories and memories of the god of death, but it was somehow even more 'real' to hear about it from a fellow mortal.
Somehow he wasn't surprised to hear that something the Voice had done had upset a balance. Whether that was for good or ill he wasn't sure, but he had his suspicions. You came with the first wave from Northwind, yes? First, confirmation, to make sure his assumptions weren't completely baseless. That was before the Voice had been properly woken, I thought. It's possible that she didn't do whatever she did consciously. You're like Remi, one who can wield magic yet still shift into animal forms. Abandoned and Attuned, a paradox... and a powerful one. It's possible that in her slumber she grasped after that power, trying to claim it for her own as one of her children, but found your soul already too close to the old gods to complete your Ascension before you passed through the portal. A hypothesis that was more based in story than fact, he knew, but it was a place to begin. Confronting her might not gain you anything but being brought back to her attention.
He tilted his head, surprised and - though he didn't want to admit it - more than a little impressed that she had given away her immortality and showed no regret at its loss. Even if she had only found out about it right before she gave it up, it was still a test of character he would not have expected from an assassin, no matter how righteous she painted her fight against her guild. Giving up immortality to save the life of another? He did not know how many people she had killed, or how many deaths she would spend her life atoning for, but that was undeniably a mark on the other side of the ledger.
A far greater mark than he could claim, and he squirmed a little on the inside as the confrontation with his bias grew deeper. Would you tell me of Mort, please? he asked, instead of dealing with the embarrassing twist of guilt that soured his full stomach. What was he like? He had Safrin's stories and memories of the god of death, but it was somehow even more 'real' to hear about it from a fellow mortal.
