Thank all the gods old and new that the companions hadn't contracted the blight alongside their foolish humans. They gave Jigano hope, when he wasn't so far gone in despair to lose sight of it completely. He watched Auni trot off, savoring Isuma's happiness as she chirruped excitedly over the shiny bits of glass and interesting stones and he took strength from it. Strength enough to cross the room and give the young woman who waited there a long-overdue apology.
He extended his hands in silent supplication; a shared affliction, a rare desire for shared contact. They hung there trembling until his strength drained away and he was forced to lower them again while Kiada wrapped herself up in her own arm, covering the most grievous of the fresh wounds that kissed her skin with blight-edged lips. He had seen an arrow sprouting from that shoulder once before, in a lightless place amongst an audience of Fae, and it was wrong wrong wrong for it to still be so wide and broken. But he was no Healer, no Vai, no Sascha, no Loren. He could not fix her with a touch of his hands, had he even the energy to try. All he could do was sit and wait upon her judgment, braced for the worst for with the blight sunk so deeply under her skin she might well rage at him at any moment.
That she did not was a blessing, but her dull, hopeless voice left him aching all the same. It was more than he had any right to expect, however, an acceptance preferable to a rejection, even though forgiveness was still so very far away. A part of him was aware enough to see the parallels between what he had done to Kiada and what Loren had done to him, even down to the later apologies. He was too tired to appreciate the wry twist fate had thrown at them, though, simply bowing his head in gratitude and letting the weight of the world keep it bowed until the light struck from the ring and caught his attention.
It was a simple thing, but a point of beauty on a young woman who had otherwise gone out of her way to divest herself of all ornament, all artifice, any accessory unnecessary to basic survival. He watched her fidget with it as the light slid across it. "How long," he asked softly after a time of silence. "How long have you had the sickness?"
The curse. The blight. That darkness in their blood and in their hearts that ate away at everything they were and replaced it with... something else.
He extended his hands in silent supplication; a shared affliction, a rare desire for shared contact. They hung there trembling until his strength drained away and he was forced to lower them again while Kiada wrapped herself up in her own arm, covering the most grievous of the fresh wounds that kissed her skin with blight-edged lips. He had seen an arrow sprouting from that shoulder once before, in a lightless place amongst an audience of Fae, and it was wrong wrong wrong for it to still be so wide and broken. But he was no Healer, no Vai, no Sascha, no Loren. He could not fix her with a touch of his hands, had he even the energy to try. All he could do was sit and wait upon her judgment, braced for the worst for with the blight sunk so deeply under her skin she might well rage at him at any moment.
That she did not was a blessing, but her dull, hopeless voice left him aching all the same. It was more than he had any right to expect, however, an acceptance preferable to a rejection, even though forgiveness was still so very far away. A part of him was aware enough to see the parallels between what he had done to Kiada and what Loren had done to him, even down to the later apologies. He was too tired to appreciate the wry twist fate had thrown at them, though, simply bowing his head in gratitude and letting the weight of the world keep it bowed until the light struck from the ring and caught his attention.
It was a simple thing, but a point of beauty on a young woman who had otherwise gone out of her way to divest herself of all ornament, all artifice, any accessory unnecessary to basic survival. He watched her fidget with it as the light slid across it. "How long," he asked softly after a time of silence. "How long have you had the sickness?"
The curse. The blight. That darkness in their blood and in their hearts that ate away at everything they were and replaced it with... something else.
