The shadows had never been real, but still the lorekeeper felt a lump in his throat when they dissolved and blended together. He watched them, desperate to hold one final look at his fallen friends before he lost them for a second time, but when they exploded outwards he had no choice but to close his eyes, flinching away from the sudden spray of ribbons and bits of night given brief substance. When he looked back again it was to a mask, not a young girl, and the descriptions he’d heard had not done the god justice.
He wasn’t sure even his silver tongue could manage such a feat. But then, that’s part of what made them gods, wasn’t it?
”It was worth trying,” the bard responded faintly, falling back on instinctive witticisms when his heart was still racing hard enough to bruise against his ribs. He managed not to flinch a second time, though his jaw tightened at the ribbon that stroked his cheek so gently, so… possessively. ”But you’ve answered a different question so for that… thank you, Ludo.”
Before he could open his mouth to try and strike a deal that had been tickling the back of his thoughts, the god struck first. Jigano’s breath drew in sharply at the limits placed upon him, and he tucked his chin, thoughts racing furiously. Isla? But she was newly chosen by her own god, and surely the Voice would protect her from Ludo’s games. If Isla was safe then so was Sam, for the same reason. Edy… seemed too earthy to attract the interest of a god like Ludo. Frey, perhaps, but then, she had power and strength in her own right. The only one he knew who had suffered at Ludo’s hands before was Remi, but he hardly knew the boy. And… strangely, Remi had almost seemed to defend Ludo when Jigano had become indignant on his behalf.
But there was one, who lived away from the Settlement, far from help or assistance, whose gentle eyes had been filled far too much with sadness of late.
”Rory,” the white-haired man said softly, fingers tightening on his harp. ”Please grant protection to Rory, the leatherworker. Send no ghosts to haunt his door, nor draw him into your wounding games.” Drawing a deep breath, the bard looked up again, meeting the eyes of the mask with a cool determination as he drew his dignity about him once more. ”And your price, Ludo? For as long as you keep him safe, I will give you my dreams. To take from me, or to mold as you will. Does that meet with your approval?”
He wasn’t sure even his silver tongue could manage such a feat. But then, that’s part of what made them gods, wasn’t it?
”It was worth trying,” the bard responded faintly, falling back on instinctive witticisms when his heart was still racing hard enough to bruise against his ribs. He managed not to flinch a second time, though his jaw tightened at the ribbon that stroked his cheek so gently, so… possessively. ”But you’ve answered a different question so for that… thank you, Ludo.”
Before he could open his mouth to try and strike a deal that had been tickling the back of his thoughts, the god struck first. Jigano’s breath drew in sharply at the limits placed upon him, and he tucked his chin, thoughts racing furiously. Isla? But she was newly chosen by her own god, and surely the Voice would protect her from Ludo’s games. If Isla was safe then so was Sam, for the same reason. Edy… seemed too earthy to attract the interest of a god like Ludo. Frey, perhaps, but then, she had power and strength in her own right. The only one he knew who had suffered at Ludo’s hands before was Remi, but he hardly knew the boy. And… strangely, Remi had almost seemed to defend Ludo when Jigano had become indignant on his behalf.
But there was one, who lived away from the Settlement, far from help or assistance, whose gentle eyes had been filled far too much with sadness of late.
”Rory,” the white-haired man said softly, fingers tightening on his harp. ”Please grant protection to Rory, the leatherworker. Send no ghosts to haunt his door, nor draw him into your wounding games.” Drawing a deep breath, the bard looked up again, meeting the eyes of the mask with a cool determination as he drew his dignity about him once more. ”And your price, Ludo? For as long as you keep him safe, I will give you my dreams. To take from me, or to mold as you will. Does that meet with your approval?”
