The stranger was the same height as him, a rarity in this bound and wilting world, and Jigano quietly assessed what he could make of him. With his walking stick and airs he might have been almost noble, but the condescending smirk swiftly ruined that impression, and both his personal habits and his words buried it completely in a grave of unpleasant arrogance.
Not that Jigano was willing to look on the man's rudeness kindly after such a creepy approach.
He didn't quite tune him out the moment he realized the stranger was monologuing, but it was all so terribly cliche the bard could almost have quoted the threats from a bad novel alongside him, at least untilArchebold got to the end. A pale brow arched in surprise, and he tilted his head in instinctive curiosity. Another Ascended? Though unlike Sam and Isla this one seemed far more like the vampires of Jigano's world. Certainly he was more... flamboyant about it.
He had snuck up on the Attuned once, but now that he knew what to listen for, Jigano felt confident he wouldn't be able to do so again. Not so easily, nor with the same trick. This world was still strange, its rhythms jarring and discordant, but the lorekeeper was beginning to find the music in it, the quiet metronome of life and death and rebirth, even with the spontaneous improvisations of the gods thrown in. And with that realization he grew more confident, though still on his guard.
The blade had already begun to lower when the vampire's hand flicked out, missing the sword, but giving Jigano a sense for the Ascended's speed. A small smile tugged at his lips, though he remained tense and wary, and he watched Archebold meander away - gracefully shifting to keep a body length of space between them if the other man's path should approach him, while still remaining towards the center of the bridge.
"Gods least fortunate, you do like the sound of your own voice, don't you?" the bard said dryly. "Mostly I wish you'd keep a civil tongue in your head and not swan about like the villain in a bad opera, but since you seem determined to see this production through: is your answer something to do with blood, or heartbeats, or some other bodily function you traded for black velvet cloaks and a penchant for moonlit sonatas on oversized pipe organs?"
Not that Jigano was willing to look on the man's rudeness kindly after such a creepy approach.
He didn't quite tune him out the moment he realized the stranger was monologuing, but it was all so terribly cliche the bard could almost have quoted the threats from a bad novel alongside him, at least until
He had snuck up on the Attuned once, but now that he knew what to listen for, Jigano felt confident he wouldn't be able to do so again. Not so easily, nor with the same trick. This world was still strange, its rhythms jarring and discordant, but the lorekeeper was beginning to find the music in it, the quiet metronome of life and death and rebirth, even with the spontaneous improvisations of the gods thrown in. And with that realization he grew more confident, though still on his guard.
The blade had already begun to lower when the vampire's hand flicked out, missing the sword, but giving Jigano a sense for the Ascended's speed. A small smile tugged at his lips, though he remained tense and wary, and he watched Archebold meander away - gracefully shifting to keep a body length of space between them if the other man's path should approach him, while still remaining towards the center of the bridge.
"Gods least fortunate, you do like the sound of your own voice, don't you?" the bard said dryly. "Mostly I wish you'd keep a civil tongue in your head and not swan about like the villain in a bad opera, but since you seem determined to see this production through: is your answer something to do with blood, or heartbeats, or some other bodily function you traded for black velvet cloaks and a penchant for moonlit sonatas on oversized pipe organs?"
