That was another sound suggestion from Jigano, and Loren nodded. ”I’ll do that.” Then, he hesitated, realizing he didn’t actually know where to get his hands on the samples that the white-haired man mentioned. The Launceleyn bit his lip. ”Do you know where I can find plants and animals that might be blighted?” Wandering around the Greatwood and the Hollowed Grounds seemed like a fool’s errand but the summoner would resort to that if all else failed. Then, of course the bard revealed that he, himself, was afflicted, and offered his own body as a test subject. ”I’m sorry. I...I didn’t know.” That was a testament to Jigano’s own willpower; if Loren had been blighted, he’d have succumbed far more easily. ”Are you alright? Is there anything I can do to help you more comfortable at least?” He really did mean at least, but as far as any of them knew, there was nothing more to be done than comfort the sick.
Letting out a breath at the bard’s assertion that Zariah would not have been so foolish—and the summoner could not be so lucky—as to have left the keys lying around, Loren finally gave up the faint hope that this could be resolved easily. ”You’re probably right.” Then he felt a determined look steal upon his face. ”But she can’t move the doors.” So that was what he would focus on for now.
There were many with creation magic, it seemed, and none with summoning. Seeing where Loren’s expertise lay, he probably should’ve been experimenting with it far before now. However, it was better late than never, and if nothing else, his return was making him very good at making up for lost time. As the bard’s words wove a picture, Loren allowed the image of the Spark Bird to settle in his brain. He knew what a roc was, so he started with that as a base; she seemed similar to a phoenix, but not exactly, though he drew the flame and light from it and painted it onto the rocs feathers; finally, he called upon the lighting that flickered in the thunderbird’s wake, and added it in falling sheets to the portrait in his mind. ”That’ll do it,” he breathed out, almost in wonder. Hopefully: they wouldn’t know for sure until he tried.
But somehow, he felt in his bones that it had to be true. Because it was the slim hope he had to cling to, to get through the coming season. ”Thank you. For everything.” Loren sank all the gratitude coursing through him into those four words; Jigano had been kinder than the Launceleyn had any right to expect. He would not forget that, and he added the bard to the already long and rapidly growing list of people the summoner owed and could not possibly repay. He’d still try. That’s what he’d be asked to do, try, and he’d try until it killed him.
Letting out a breath at the bard’s assertion that Zariah would not have been so foolish—and the summoner could not be so lucky—as to have left the keys lying around, Loren finally gave up the faint hope that this could be resolved easily. ”You’re probably right.” Then he felt a determined look steal upon his face. ”But she can’t move the doors.” So that was what he would focus on for now.
There were many with creation magic, it seemed, and none with summoning. Seeing where Loren’s expertise lay, he probably should’ve been experimenting with it far before now. However, it was better late than never, and if nothing else, his return was making him very good at making up for lost time. As the bard’s words wove a picture, Loren allowed the image of the Spark Bird to settle in his brain. He knew what a roc was, so he started with that as a base; she seemed similar to a phoenix, but not exactly, though he drew the flame and light from it and painted it onto the rocs feathers; finally, he called upon the lighting that flickered in the thunderbird’s wake, and added it in falling sheets to the portrait in his mind. ”That’ll do it,” he breathed out, almost in wonder. Hopefully: they wouldn’t know for sure until he tried.
But somehow, he felt in his bones that it had to be true. Because it was the slim hope he had to cling to, to get through the coming season. ”Thank you. For everything.” Loren sank all the gratitude coursing through him into those four words; Jigano had been kinder than the Launceleyn had any right to expect. He would not forget that, and he added the bard to the already long and rapidly growing list of people the summoner owed and could not possibly repay. He’d still try. That’s what he’d be asked to do, try, and he’d try until it killed him.
