The days were growing shorter, alarmingly so considering how much needed to be done still. Not that there was ever enough that could be done to prepare enough to keep everyone safe. The monsters always found a crack, a chink in the armor of all the Settlement did, and they oozed within and stole lives and souls both. This year the barrierfolk were grimly determined, however, hardened from last year's crucible and strengthened by a year spent careening from one catastrophe to the next.
Jigano had brought some of his lessons on himself, and survived others that no one could have anticipated. The blight had broken him down, showed him true despair and rage, and left him reconsidering what he thought he'd known about himself. What was important, and what was mere ego. What was worth loving, and protecting, and learning humility for.
Amalia needed him to be stronger. Kiada needed him to be stronger. And Rory was unimpressed with the bard's protests. Between the three of them he was left with no choice but to acknowledge that something needed to change, and that, as he had caused the rift, it would be up to him to make the first step to repair the fragile bridge that had once spanned it.
So it was that midafternoon, in the middle of a brewing snowstorm with the wind just beginning to whip the white flakes sideways through the air, a Provost bundled into his furred cloak gathered his courage and his patience and knocked on the General's door.
Deimos
Jigano had brought some of his lessons on himself, and survived others that no one could have anticipated. The blight had broken him down, showed him true despair and rage, and left him reconsidering what he thought he'd known about himself. What was important, and what was mere ego. What was worth loving, and protecting, and learning humility for.
Amalia needed him to be stronger. Kiada needed him to be stronger. And Rory was unimpressed with the bard's protests. Between the three of them he was left with no choice but to acknowledge that something needed to change, and that, as he had caused the rift, it would be up to him to make the first step to repair the fragile bridge that had once spanned it.
So it was that midafternoon, in the middle of a brewing snowstorm with the wind just beginning to whip the white flakes sideways through the air, a Provost bundled into his furred cloak gathered his courage and his patience and knocked on the General's door.
Deimos
