It was clear that they lacked the shared vocabulary for his explanations to make sense, and Jigano tapped a finger thoughtfully on the table before relenting and surrendering a slow nod of agreement to Remi’s confusion. ”If I were better at what I aspire to be, I would be able to describe it more clearly,” he apologized. ”For me, my magic was more instinctive than trained. It was… in my blood, rather than something I actively sought out, as a wizard might.”
The question was unexpected, and unexpectedly painful. The bard didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the crystalline structure of the transformed geode as he let his emotions settle before trying to put them into words. ”I don’t know,” he said at last, sighing softly. ”There is a part of me that will always feel like it is missing without it but… I have been learning to live without it. Or at least, to adapt to how Caido has changed it. And… to rely on others again, to shore up where I’ve become weakened by the loss.” His lips quirked just slightly, a wry and oddly vulnerable expression. ”It is a long learning curve, and one I often slip on.” He gave a small shrug, raising his eyes to Remi again. ”I would not turn down the chance to regain it, though, if that’s what you mean. Whether I will actively seek it out again… will depend on what happens in the future, I suppose.”
Stars were easier to speak of, reminders of his past and of meeting Safrin in the Glade. He chuckled in appreciation of making constellations with them, though it had been years since he’d stayed in one place long enough to have a ceiling to call his own. As a child, though, he would have been utterly enchanted by such a thing.
He let the silent answer to his question slip away; it had been mostly rhetorical after all, an expression of delight at the clever concoction. He nodded at hearing that larger amounts would create more light, and again at Remi’s own question. ”We might be underground, but the original builders of the Hall built in a clever array of mirrors,” he explained. ”They reflect light from the southern window wells through passages in the walls to catch other mirrors in the main hall and the chandelier, and refract the light throughout. A lantern placed in the chandelier itself creates the brightest light, but during the day the reflected sunlight is adequate. And if you, say, transmuted a whole geode to crystal and we simply bored a hole in it so the interior could be filled with your starlight, it would benefit from the reflected sunlight in the chandelier during the day… or… does it have to be direct?” he asked, brow furrowing slightly in thought as he tried to work out the most efficient way for such a gift to be added to the Hall’s existing design.
The question was unexpected, and unexpectedly painful. The bard didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the crystalline structure of the transformed geode as he let his emotions settle before trying to put them into words. ”I don’t know,” he said at last, sighing softly. ”There is a part of me that will always feel like it is missing without it but… I have been learning to live without it. Or at least, to adapt to how Caido has changed it. And… to rely on others again, to shore up where I’ve become weakened by the loss.” His lips quirked just slightly, a wry and oddly vulnerable expression. ”It is a long learning curve, and one I often slip on.” He gave a small shrug, raising his eyes to Remi again. ”I would not turn down the chance to regain it, though, if that’s what you mean. Whether I will actively seek it out again… will depend on what happens in the future, I suppose.”
Stars were easier to speak of, reminders of his past and of meeting Safrin in the Glade. He chuckled in appreciation of making constellations with them, though it had been years since he’d stayed in one place long enough to have a ceiling to call his own. As a child, though, he would have been utterly enchanted by such a thing.
He let the silent answer to his question slip away; it had been mostly rhetorical after all, an expression of delight at the clever concoction. He nodded at hearing that larger amounts would create more light, and again at Remi’s own question. ”We might be underground, but the original builders of the Hall built in a clever array of mirrors,” he explained. ”They reflect light from the southern window wells through passages in the walls to catch other mirrors in the main hall and the chandelier, and refract the light throughout. A lantern placed in the chandelier itself creates the brightest light, but during the day the reflected sunlight is adequate. And if you, say, transmuted a whole geode to crystal and we simply bored a hole in it so the interior could be filled with your starlight, it would benefit from the reflected sunlight in the chandelier during the day… or… does it have to be direct?” he asked, brow furrowing slightly in thought as he tried to work out the most efficient way for such a gift to be added to the Hall’s existing design.
