Jigano tilted his head curiously, wondering what stake Loren had that led to such a firm correction, but no further explanation was forthcoming. The bard was curious, but at least the scholar was more inclined to conversation than Deimos was, and if he didn’t feel like expounding on his answer, the blighted lorekeeper wouldn’t press; not, at least, for the moment. Besides, there were other things to disagree on, and Jigano’s voice stayed unexpectedly mild as he spoke. ”And those you cared about didn’t see that you needed to step back, step away, to regain your perspective and energy. Did they look for you, your fellow Launceleyns?” he asked, curious though he suspected he knew the answer. Edy might have, though he wasn’t sure how close they had been. Zariah? Unlikely in the extreme. ”You could have chosen not to come back at all. To stay in hiding, or to simply walk away once the barrier fell, as far as the Greatwood would let you. There were a great many other things that you could have done… but you chose to return. Continue to choose to help, to try.” Words for himself as much as for Loren. He hadn’t been gone for as long as the scholar, but the parallels were impossible to deny.
They were in agreement about Long Night, and why they wanted to prepare for it, and in protecting those they cared for, and the ones those people cared for, out in an expanding web of connections and affection that spread beyond their immediate small circles and came to encompass all the Hollowed Grounds and beyond. If he had known the direction Loren’s thoughts had taken re: their new Queen, however, he would have had a lot more to say on the matter.
Perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t, for the attempt to shift the conversation took a darker turn that he intended. ”So you want to be a survivor?” he mused thoughtfully as he followed Loren to a quieter area and settled himself gratefully on the neighboring bed. He wondered idly if it was the same one he and Rory had slept on last Long Night, after the badly-burned-and-bitten farmer had been rescued by Rexanna and Vervain and brought here to recover. It had been a terrible time, full of nightmares and guilt and regret…
But also a night for truths, for revelations, and new beginnings. Sometimes you had to make your own light in the darkness.
”Thank you,” he murmured, sighing as he let the bag slide to the floor and looked ruefully down at his trembling hands. ”I am eager for this to pass, to say the least.” The inability to do fine work with his hands led to frustration, which the blight then amplified and fed upon, strengthening in his veins and turning frustration to anger and rage still. To say it was unpleasant was an understatement worthy of his old self.
”What was it that you did, back on Northhaven? Or were you one of those who came from Northwind?” Might as well start at the beginning, if he had an open invitation, and ‘profession’ was hopefully an innocuous enough topic to keep them from spiraling down too far into the shadows of their pasts.
They were in agreement about Long Night, and why they wanted to prepare for it, and in protecting those they cared for, and the ones those people cared for, out in an expanding web of connections and affection that spread beyond their immediate small circles and came to encompass all the Hollowed Grounds and beyond. If he had known the direction Loren’s thoughts had taken re: their new Queen, however, he would have had a lot more to say on the matter.
Perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t, for the attempt to shift the conversation took a darker turn that he intended. ”So you want to be a survivor?” he mused thoughtfully as he followed Loren to a quieter area and settled himself gratefully on the neighboring bed. He wondered idly if it was the same one he and Rory had slept on last Long Night, after the badly-burned-and-bitten farmer had been rescued by Rexanna and Vervain and brought here to recover. It had been a terrible time, full of nightmares and guilt and regret…
But also a night for truths, for revelations, and new beginnings. Sometimes you had to make your own light in the darkness.
”Thank you,” he murmured, sighing as he let the bag slide to the floor and looked ruefully down at his trembling hands. ”I am eager for this to pass, to say the least.” The inability to do fine work with his hands led to frustration, which the blight then amplified and fed upon, strengthening in his veins and turning frustration to anger and rage still. To say it was unpleasant was an understatement worthy of his old self.
”What was it that you did, back on Northhaven? Or were you one of those who came from Northwind?” Might as well start at the beginning, if he had an open invitation, and ‘profession’ was hopefully an innocuous enough topic to keep them from spiraling down too far into the shadows of their pasts.
