An item, Ludo had said. A shield or piece of armor. And Jigano had considered the armor Deimos had made for him before LongNight, the shield he was far from adept at using and the gorget and bracers he liked but rarely wore when not planning to walk into a fight. No, this item had to be something he would always have with him, just in case.
It meant he would have to make it himself, using the techniques Caiside had taught him and the forge that needed only a small push to make usable again. He would have to make more Guild pins, too, for the new members who had been joining of late. He was glad to see the numbers increasing, but the proud joy in it had been dimmed by the tragedy of Fiat Lux. Now he moved almost mechanically, looking out from the edge of the Settlement into the Ruins beyond, blue eyes hard and distant as he forced himself to keep moving, keep pushing through, keep being where people needed him to be instead of running away again.
White hair was pulled back in a thick braid to keep it out of the way and his lantern hung from his hip, glowing in spite of the summer heat and brightness of the day. His rapier rested on his other hip, old habits dying hard when the ruins held their own dangers. The small pack at his back contained mostly water skins and some food, but also some small tools to aid in his scavenging. Still he paused a moment before setting out, closing his eyes and taking in the scent of hot, dry air, letting the arid breeze blow away the memory of blood and mud.
Oliver
It meant he would have to make it himself, using the techniques Caiside had taught him and the forge that needed only a small push to make usable again. He would have to make more Guild pins, too, for the new members who had been joining of late. He was glad to see the numbers increasing, but the proud joy in it had been dimmed by the tragedy of Fiat Lux. Now he moved almost mechanically, looking out from the edge of the Settlement into the Ruins beyond, blue eyes hard and distant as he forced himself to keep moving, keep pushing through, keep being where people needed him to be instead of running away again.
White hair was pulled back in a thick braid to keep it out of the way and his lantern hung from his hip, glowing in spite of the summer heat and brightness of the day. His rapier rested on his other hip, old habits dying hard when the ruins held their own dangers. The small pack at his back contained mostly water skins and some food, but also some small tools to aid in his scavenging. Still he paused a moment before setting out, closing his eyes and taking in the scent of hot, dry air, letting the arid breeze blow away the memory of blood and mud.
