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The book lay open on Jigano’s lap, filled with promises of new lore and answers to questions he’d only just begun to ask. It was, however, merely a tease, offering hints of knowledge while keeping the juiciest tidbits locked away behind a script he was still trying to puzzle out. The bard sat atop a low, flat rock, legs crossed as he frowned intently at a patch of ground a mere foot away. His pale coloring and white hair was almost shockingly out of place among the brightly changing colors of the leaves in the glade, like a breath of early winter in the midst of an unseasonably warm day. It wasn’t that he was trying to stand out, but he was certainly making no effort to hide his presence as his frown turned to a scowl and he leaned forward at last to tentatively poke one slender finger into the fire.
It was a very small fire, and unlike Jigano it did somewhat blend with its surroundings. Orange and yellow in the shape of a cup – or upward curling petals - flickered with a faint glow, almost lost in the sunlight that filtered through the growing gaps in the canopy above. It sat atop a black stem with large, broad black leaves at the base, veined in a shiny crimson that looked almost like liquid as the shade and sundrops shifted over it in the light breeze. Three of the strange plants, roughly the size of irises, grew in proximity to each other in a perfect triangle, and nowhere else in sight within the glade.
Much to his surprise, the fire was comfortably warm but not hot enough to singe or hurt. His frown turned to delighted curiosity and he pulled his hand back to fumble a pencil from his side, pulling out a small, roughly bound traveler’s journal and jotting a few notes, glancing first from book to plant and then back to his own writing with such intensity that he appeared oblivious to the world around him.
The book lay open on Jigano’s lap, filled with promises of new lore and answers to questions he’d only just begun to ask. It was, however, merely a tease, offering hints of knowledge while keeping the juiciest tidbits locked away behind a script he was still trying to puzzle out. The bard sat atop a low, flat rock, legs crossed as he frowned intently at a patch of ground a mere foot away. His pale coloring and white hair was almost shockingly out of place among the brightly changing colors of the leaves in the glade, like a breath of early winter in the midst of an unseasonably warm day. It wasn’t that he was trying to stand out, but he was certainly making no effort to hide his presence as his frown turned to a scowl and he leaned forward at last to tentatively poke one slender finger into the fire.
It was a very small fire, and unlike Jigano it did somewhat blend with its surroundings. Orange and yellow in the shape of a cup – or upward curling petals - flickered with a faint glow, almost lost in the sunlight that filtered through the growing gaps in the canopy above. It sat atop a black stem with large, broad black leaves at the base, veined in a shiny crimson that looked almost like liquid as the shade and sundrops shifted over it in the light breeze. Three of the strange plants, roughly the size of irises, grew in proximity to each other in a perfect triangle, and nowhere else in sight within the glade.
Much to his surprise, the fire was comfortably warm but not hot enough to singe or hurt. His frown turned to delighted curiosity and he pulled his hand back to fumble a pencil from his side, pulling out a small, roughly bound traveler’s journal and jotting a few notes, glancing first from book to plant and then back to his own writing with such intensity that he appeared oblivious to the world around him.
