Jigano wasn’t quite as eager to strip as his friend, despite the relative privacy of the quiet patch of river. It wasn’t that he had anything to be ashamed of, but he didn’t have anything to be particularly proud of, either, even though the sun would feel good on his golden skin… Maybe soon, then. For the moment, however, his short-sleeved linen shirt stayed on, and he chuckled as Caiside made himself comfortable, appreciating the aesthetic lines of his companion’s body in the light.
The bard cupped his hands and reached idly into the water, capturing the sun’s reflection as he lifted the shimmering liquid up and then let it spill through his fingers, humming contentedly before he asked his idle question. The answer was one that had him grinning brightly, a merry chuckle escaping as he tried to envision the little tricksters. ”They sound kind of adorable,” he teased, relaxing into the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. ”Though I can see a mischief-maker suiting you!” He scooped more water up, lifting it into the boat to settle into his basket with the crescent moons shining whitely on its edges. Deimos’s magic had made a tight weave, tight enough to hold the water and the bard hummed in approval as he considered his own answer.
Honesty, he knew, was the way to go, but it still wasn’t easy. Perhaps he could work his way up to it? ”Ah… actually, do you remember that strange night on the shore of the Stonesong, and that elemental spirit woman who called us there? She… did something to me. And now I can turn into a horse.” It felt utterly bizarre to be saying it aloud, hearkening back to memories of his first misadventure inside a sentient book, and the bard ducked his head in unaccustomed embarrassment as he wrinkled his nose at his reflection in the deceptively calm surface of the river. ”I don’t know if it’s what I could have chosen but… well. I… don’t really regret it.” Rory’s hands on his fur, tangled in his mane, his weight settling on a back broader and stronger than anything Jigano had ever known. Big enough to help for once in his life, to be useful beyond his mind and magic. No, he didn’t regret it. It was still strange, though, and likely would take as much getting used to as his raven form had.
The bard cupped his hands and reached idly into the water, capturing the sun’s reflection as he lifted the shimmering liquid up and then let it spill through his fingers, humming contentedly before he asked his idle question. The answer was one that had him grinning brightly, a merry chuckle escaping as he tried to envision the little tricksters. ”They sound kind of adorable,” he teased, relaxing into the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. ”Though I can see a mischief-maker suiting you!” He scooped more water up, lifting it into the boat to settle into his basket with the crescent moons shining whitely on its edges. Deimos’s magic had made a tight weave, tight enough to hold the water and the bard hummed in approval as he considered his own answer.
Honesty, he knew, was the way to go, but it still wasn’t easy. Perhaps he could work his way up to it? ”Ah… actually, do you remember that strange night on the shore of the Stonesong, and that elemental spirit woman who called us there? She… did something to me. And now I can turn into a horse.” It felt utterly bizarre to be saying it aloud, hearkening back to memories of his first misadventure inside a sentient book, and the bard ducked his head in unaccustomed embarrassment as he wrinkled his nose at his reflection in the deceptively calm surface of the river. ”I don’t know if it’s what I could have chosen but… well. I… don’t really regret it.” Rory’s hands on his fur, tangled in his mane, his weight settling on a back broader and stronger than anything Jigano had ever known. Big enough to help for once in his life, to be useful beyond his mind and magic. No, he didn’t regret it. It was still strange, though, and likely would take as much getting used to as his raven form had.
