Jigano nodded wearily at the recounting of apologies and promises. He didn't doubt that they were sincere, but how long before something happened, some new threat arose, and one or another of them would break the promise anew, certain that only they could save the Fae from it? Given that he would be right there with the mage in doing so gave the bard no solace; it only meant two fools would pay the price of arrogance the next time it happened.
At least he didn't pout and make excuses and insist that he was in the right, as Jigano remembered Phoebe doing a very long Flowerbirth ago. She had been trying to justify Roana's actions at the time, not her own... he hadn't spoken to her since, come to think of it, but from what he had heard from Remi that was probably for the best. Loren accepted what he had done and saw the Fae's point of view, and the bard would have been impressed by the maturity the young scholar showed if he hadn't himself felt so weary. The near-mindless task they applied themselves to at least left plenty of opportunity for conversation, and Jigano tucked a last tuft of moss into a crack before using his foot to shift the bag over to the next window. It was a good break in the conversation, giving him a chance to pull his thoughts together on the tulmhainars and all that they entailed.
"They are... incredible," he said quietly. "There is only one left on Caido, and he lives in the Sidhe Village where the Fae tend to him. They are creatures that are difficult to describe. Words don't really do them justice. They are vast and old and... kind, I think. The one I met was, though I was only with her in her final moments before her passing. Amalia said the one in the Village is, too. Something like tortoises, but something like worlds. They feed on memories. Not memories taken, but memories shared. I think the Fae just like to use the threat of 'sacrifice' to scare people," he admitted, a flicker of smile playing at his lips again as he wedged moss between pane and sill. It was the type of humor he could appreciate now that he wasn't on the other end of it.
At least he didn't pout and make excuses and insist that he was in the right, as Jigano remembered Phoebe doing a very long Flowerbirth ago. She had been trying to justify Roana's actions at the time, not her own... he hadn't spoken to her since, come to think of it, but from what he had heard from Remi that was probably for the best. Loren accepted what he had done and saw the Fae's point of view, and the bard would have been impressed by the maturity the young scholar showed if he hadn't himself felt so weary. The near-mindless task they applied themselves to at least left plenty of opportunity for conversation, and Jigano tucked a last tuft of moss into a crack before using his foot to shift the bag over to the next window. It was a good break in the conversation, giving him a chance to pull his thoughts together on the tulmhainars and all that they entailed.
"They are... incredible," he said quietly. "There is only one left on Caido, and he lives in the Sidhe Village where the Fae tend to him. They are creatures that are difficult to describe. Words don't really do them justice. They are vast and old and... kind, I think. The one I met was, though I was only with her in her final moments before her passing. Amalia said the one in the Village is, too. Something like tortoises, but something like worlds. They feed on memories. Not memories taken, but memories shared. I think the Fae just like to use the threat of 'sacrifice' to scare people," he admitted, a flicker of smile playing at his lips again as he wedged moss between pane and sill. It was the type of humor he could appreciate now that he wasn't on the other end of it.
