"They can be," Jigano answered honestly. "Easy to anger, and with moods that can be... unpredictable. A bit like a cat," he added with a chuckle. "But they are the guide of the souls of those who have died, shepherding them safely to Mort and the afterlife of this world. And that job they take very seriously." He tilted his head up to the cloudless blue sky ruefully, considering how neither Ludo nor Safrin were easy to picture in the middle of the afternoon sunshine. He'd had no dealings with Frey, nor wanted any, but it was easier to think of a god of nature and... fecundity... enjoying the day moreso than gods of night and stars.
Melita's mention of the oracles of her world initially brought Jigano's head up, but he relaxed back, shaking it slightly as a wry smile curved his lips. "It's a little different on my world," he tried to explain. "Each deity has their clerics, their priests, who choose to dedicate themselves to their god. Oracles... are a stranger breed. I was born an Oracle, like my mother before me, and her mother before her. We were born with a connection to the divine... but not to a specific deity. And not without price," he added, a touch more grimly. "The blessings of the gods who held aspects of an Ideal guided us, but lacking the protection of a specific god we also bore curses. Still... I would not have thrown either away, if I had been given the choice," he said, more softly. "Feeling the connection to something greater, the serenity of my Mystery and the Ideals to which I strove... the price I paid was small enough for the purpose I found in life. I am a Lorekeeper, still, only now I must work much harder to mediate between the mortal and divine, the living and the dead," he added with a touch of wry self-deprecation.
He listened to Melita's tale as well, his lips thinning in understanding and he bowed his head in acknowledgment of what she and her people had lost. A god who tricked mortals into ruin? Oh yes, he was intimately familiar with that! Only it sounded like Helovia had no ghosts of the past to guide a band of ragtag adventurers into bottling that particular genie back up before it could unleash destruction upon the world. "I am sorry," he said, voice low with the whispers of what-might-have-been on his own world.
Talk of the ocean was a calmer, brighter subject, but he could only shake his head at her question. "My land was a northern one, surrounded by other countries, and those surrounded by still more. The oceans were far away, though the Lake of Mists and Veils to the northeast of Numeria was said to be vast. My parents crossed an ocean, though, from their distant homeland," he explained.
He nodded with a bit of relief to hear that she had made it through the winter without too much difficulty. Or at least, that the temperature alone had not been paralyzing. The heat was difficult for him to bear, but he was adapting well enough - in no small part thanks to his smooth, golden human skin and pale pelage in his animal forms. The key, he'd discovered, was to never stop drinking water, and he took the opportunity to swallow another mouthful from his mug.
Melita's mention of the oracles of her world initially brought Jigano's head up, but he relaxed back, shaking it slightly as a wry smile curved his lips. "It's a little different on my world," he tried to explain. "Each deity has their clerics, their priests, who choose to dedicate themselves to their god. Oracles... are a stranger breed. I was born an Oracle, like my mother before me, and her mother before her. We were born with a connection to the divine... but not to a specific deity. And not without price," he added, a touch more grimly. "The blessings of the gods who held aspects of an Ideal guided us, but lacking the protection of a specific god we also bore curses. Still... I would not have thrown either away, if I had been given the choice," he said, more softly. "Feeling the connection to something greater, the serenity of my Mystery and the Ideals to which I strove... the price I paid was small enough for the purpose I found in life. I am a Lorekeeper, still, only now I must work much harder to mediate between the mortal and divine, the living and the dead," he added with a touch of wry self-deprecation.
He listened to Melita's tale as well, his lips thinning in understanding and he bowed his head in acknowledgment of what she and her people had lost. A god who tricked mortals into ruin? Oh yes, he was intimately familiar with that! Only it sounded like Helovia had no ghosts of the past to guide a band of ragtag adventurers into bottling that particular genie back up before it could unleash destruction upon the world. "I am sorry," he said, voice low with the whispers of what-might-have-been on his own world.
Talk of the ocean was a calmer, brighter subject, but he could only shake his head at her question. "My land was a northern one, surrounded by other countries, and those surrounded by still more. The oceans were far away, though the Lake of Mists and Veils to the northeast of Numeria was said to be vast. My parents crossed an ocean, though, from their distant homeland," he explained.
He nodded with a bit of relief to hear that she had made it through the winter without too much difficulty. Or at least, that the temperature alone had not been paralyzing. The heat was difficult for him to bear, but he was adapting well enough - in no small part thanks to his smooth, golden human skin and pale pelage in his animal forms. The key, he'd discovered, was to never stop drinking water, and he took the opportunity to swallow another mouthful from his mug.
