At the change of the seasons, between one catastrophe and the next, Jigano had asked to meet with Deimos in the sunny land of Torchline to hear about Adam's death and to construct some sort of remembrance for the flamboyant, life-loving man who had been taken from them too soon.
And to hear more about why Adam had died, beyond the rumors that had flown in the wake of the Temple's re-consecration.
So Jigano had sent the General word of a shrine they could meet at in the new region, one dedicated to Ludo - a fitting place to remember one who had been lost. He had arrived in his lightened garb, for despite the onset of Leafchange the coast was still warm and toasty during the day. A simple, sleeveless grey shirt belted over brown linen trousers, bearing only Deimos's bracers on his arms (now with a star inset on each) left the bard looking decidedly underdressed from his more usual long tunics and wide sleeves, but with white hair tied back in a simple tail he looked far more comfortable. Skin that was normally golden-brown was tanned darker by the Longheat sun, but Isuma stretched out in the shade of the statue to Mort, looking far less at home in the tropical heat than her companion.
Jigano stood sketching in a small journal, frowning thoughtfully down at the page covered in charcoal smudges as he passed the time waiting for Deimos .
And to hear more about why Adam had died, beyond the rumors that had flown in the wake of the Temple's re-consecration.
So Jigano had sent the General word of a shrine they could meet at in the new region, one dedicated to Ludo - a fitting place to remember one who had been lost. He had arrived in his lightened garb, for despite the onset of Leafchange the coast was still warm and toasty during the day. A simple, sleeveless grey shirt belted over brown linen trousers, bearing only Deimos's bracers on his arms (now with a star inset on each) left the bard looking decidedly underdressed from his more usual long tunics and wide sleeves, but with white hair tied back in a simple tail he looked far more comfortable. Skin that was normally golden-brown was tanned darker by the Longheat sun, but Isuma stretched out in the shade of the statue to Mort, looking far less at home in the tropical heat than her companion.
Jigano stood sketching in a small journal, frowning thoughtfully down at the page covered in charcoal smudges as he passed the time waiting for Deimos .
