He nodded at the information that the Fae were already moving to try and find a record of such a sickness in their histories - and, ideally, a means to treat it. If it was related to the Voice, as he feared (he remembered an evening in the Woodlands, and snow on the ground, and a strange tree that wasn't a tree, made of black stuff and glass, that he had brought Isla to, and his stomach clenched at the thought) then the only treatment might be to raise the Barrier once more... but since the Old Gods had not yet done so, perhaps that was already out of the question. But perhaps their heralds, who had lived with the Ascended godling for so long, would be willing to offer assistance if asked? This was not his world, where mortals could challenge godlings and live to tell the tale...
Well. Excepting Ronin, perhaps. But that good man was still getting used to his new body, and wasn't ready for another grand confrontation so soon.
Jigano shook off his thoughts, fingers finally stilling as he carefully untuned his harp and slipped it into his case. He rose, offering Arduinna a deeply respectful bow, for there was little lightness to be found in this topic, and a great deal of concern. "Would you please show me an example of this sickness? So I will know what the symptoms look like, if I find records of the past that tell of it, or something similar?"
Well. Excepting Ronin, perhaps. But that good man was still getting used to his new body, and wasn't ready for another grand confrontation so soon.
Jigano shook off his thoughts, fingers finally stilling as he carefully untuned his harp and slipped it into his case. He rose, offering Arduinna a deeply respectful bow, for there was little lightness to be found in this topic, and a great deal of concern. "Would you please show me an example of this sickness? So I will know what the symptoms look like, if I find records of the past that tell of it, or something similar?"
