Remi's words were welcome, not least because Jigano wryly admitted that he would have said as much himself if their positions had been reversed. He sent a flicker of gratitude across the link, appreciating the encouragement not least because it wasn't further approbation for his mistakes. The question about the Fae was enough to make Jigano pause in his flight, gliding and falling a little behind for a moment before he stroked his wings to catch up. I assumed Arduinna knew. She was the one who showed me the blight the first time. But... perhaps she does not know the time frame. When I go to speak to her I'll remember to mention it. Thank you for reminding me. He fluffed his feathers up a little at the other reminder, that they should not have gone into the woods in the first place.
If it was the Ascended that spread the blight, and the Voice sent them in to the Woods... I don't think we could have stopped them, he said at last. Might as well say we shouldn't have brought down the barrier. Which someone might say, he added with a wry, bitter humor. As much as I hate to think that way. I don't know if there was ever a right answer. Freeing the Voice may kill the Greatwood, but staying in the barrier was killing the people of the Hollowed Grounds.
Remi's description of the gods and their games drew a fervent note of agreement from the raven, mixed with a twist of resolve. They move on a greater scale than we can see, the bard said, the words slow as he considered them. We think in years, they think in centuries. We move across miles, they move across continents. And on my world the gods had limits to what they could do, imposed to help protect the mortal world and mortal minds from the struggles of gods occurring in scales we simply were not equipped to handle. He paused thoughtfully, winging along beside the manticore and watching the night-dark forest beneath them. Then, too, they might not trust us. From their perspective I can only guess but... Those of us who are outlanders have been here a year or less. The Naturals didn't stop the freeing of the Voice from her prison, or at least didn't do enough to prevent it, and they may be the descendants of the Voice's original followers. Even those of us who are pious by nature have friends among the Ascended. Perhaps they are waiting for us to prove ourselves worthy of being helped more. Or perhaps they are distracted by their own responsibilities to the rest of the world, of which we are only one corner. He tilted his head, a wry pulse of amusement flickering through the link. If faith were easy, we'd be swimming in priests.
Mention of the charm had Jigano perking up considerably. I would give much to get one for Rory, he admitted. Can you study it? Perhaps find a way to recreate it with your own magic? He would have frowned if his beak had been so mobile, instead croaking softly to himself. Then again, your magic comes at a price as well, in the energy you spend on it. I wonder the personal cost Arduinna paid, for making that charm? That may be what limits their creation, or else I'm sure she would protect the Fae as well.
Hearing the cost of Remi's agreement with what might need to be done before too much longer silenced the bard, who knew full well that it would not be the blighted who paid the heaviest price, but their loved ones. He sent a quiet pulse of regret and support to the younger man, chirring quietly in the back of his throat. Whatever Remi, Rory, and rest would need to do to protect themselves, Jigano already forgave them, and he knew Ronin would too.
If it was the Ascended that spread the blight, and the Voice sent them in to the Woods... I don't think we could have stopped them, he said at last. Might as well say we shouldn't have brought down the barrier. Which someone might say, he added with a wry, bitter humor. As much as I hate to think that way. I don't know if there was ever a right answer. Freeing the Voice may kill the Greatwood, but staying in the barrier was killing the people of the Hollowed Grounds.
Remi's description of the gods and their games drew a fervent note of agreement from the raven, mixed with a twist of resolve. They move on a greater scale than we can see, the bard said, the words slow as he considered them. We think in years, they think in centuries. We move across miles, they move across continents. And on my world the gods had limits to what they could do, imposed to help protect the mortal world and mortal minds from the struggles of gods occurring in scales we simply were not equipped to handle. He paused thoughtfully, winging along beside the manticore and watching the night-dark forest beneath them. Then, too, they might not trust us. From their perspective I can only guess but... Those of us who are outlanders have been here a year or less. The Naturals didn't stop the freeing of the Voice from her prison, or at least didn't do enough to prevent it, and they may be the descendants of the Voice's original followers. Even those of us who are pious by nature have friends among the Ascended. Perhaps they are waiting for us to prove ourselves worthy of being helped more. Or perhaps they are distracted by their own responsibilities to the rest of the world, of which we are only one corner. He tilted his head, a wry pulse of amusement flickering through the link. If faith were easy, we'd be swimming in priests.
Mention of the charm had Jigano perking up considerably. I would give much to get one for Rory, he admitted. Can you study it? Perhaps find a way to recreate it with your own magic? He would have frowned if his beak had been so mobile, instead croaking softly to himself. Then again, your magic comes at a price as well, in the energy you spend on it. I wonder the personal cost Arduinna paid, for making that charm? That may be what limits their creation, or else I'm sure she would protect the Fae as well.
Hearing the cost of Remi's agreement with what might need to be done before too much longer silenced the bard, who knew full well that it would not be the blighted who paid the heaviest price, but their loved ones. He sent a quiet pulse of regret and support to the younger man, chirring quietly in the back of his throat. Whatever Remi, Rory, and rest would need to do to protect themselves, Jigano already forgave them, and he knew Ronin would too.
