the monument of a memory {open}

Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight

Verdant eyes sweep along the curves of the tower in the distance, memorizing every ominous curve. He had not wandered from its heavy gaze since he...came here. A hand reached to his breast to press his fingertips to the start of a scar he knows didn't come when his soul held a vessel like this current one. A strange, long-limbed sort of humanity that he had only recently adjusted to in previous realms. His scars are the only assurance that his memories are more than gossamer threads, chased away by his desperately reaching hands. He traces them in the quiet of pre-dawn, trying to remember. Trying to hold fast to who he used to be, to those whose faces swam in technicolor blurs through his dreams. Faces he knows, with a sinking sort of certainty that he will not find in this place. Not like last time.

When he had first arrived, disoriented and so devastatingly alone, Cera had not moved from where he had collapsed for many hours. He had curled into himself, shrinking in his grief, unfamiliar hands clawing into cold soil to try and ground himself as he'd shaken apart. For a while, he had debated not moving. Simply laying there until some various beast or bluster stole him away from this hell land he had been dropped in. Had he not given so much already? How much more could the Gods ask of him? Could he truly begin again, a foreigner in a world he couldn't even bear to gaze upon yet? Alone? As alone as he had started, when the world was bright and his soul unburdened.

As the hours drew late a curtain of twilight descended upon him, a voice had whispered in his ears, begging him to rise. This is not your end. It is not your time, we would not want you to forsake another chance at happiness. And though he knew it was at best a hallucination, a pale imitation of comfort sprung from his own mind, he had obeyed. It was a voice he had held in his mind for many long years. A compass that had never led him wrong. So Cera unclenched his cramped fingers, let the earth press into his calloused hands as he rose to his knees in supplication to whatever Gods would rule over him now, and finally lifted his eyes to the sky.

There it had been. The spire. So familiar a shape, chasing the sky into the heavens. It was not his tower, but Cera had been awash in memories nonetheless. Memories of building, shaping, resting in the shade of a monument of his creation, sand tickling his skin...for many long moments he had merely stared, body wracked with shivers as the eve came and the sun sank. Was this some sort of sign? A promise that not all was unfamiliar, that salvation lay in his given years here? With a soft sigh, Cera stood. Began to walk, aimless into the night. Guided only by his faith. Leaving behind the ghosts of his loved ones to watch him proudly as he moved from where he had fallen, observing his diminishing figure as he strode into night. He was made of steel inside, and they had never doubted that he would rise to bear the pressure of the world once more.

Morning came with an ambling slowness that Cera marveled at, a blooded dawn that welcomed him to this new land. The spire was cast in long shadows as the hum of birds and diurnal creatures created a soft chorus of sound to accompany his journey. Sweeping long golden locks from his face, Cera started down the well worn path, hoping some other soul was venturing out in the early hours. "Hallo?" He called into the forest around him, voice somehow even despite...well, everything.

It was a start, at least. And Cera...well he'd experienced enough new beginnings to not fear them any longer.

Credit

Jigano was not an early riser by nature. He preferred late nights to early mornings, but he could wake up with the dawn when the need arose. As his world had changed, he had found himself needing to do so more and more, either for his own projects, or to help Rory with the farm...

Or to maintain his disguises as he walked, padded, flew, or slithered through the Hollowed Grounds.

This morning he had gone out early from his den in the Glade on four feet, checking the scent trails for disturbances, and pondering something small and squeaky for breakfast. Isuma fluttered along behind him a ways, pouncing on bugs just out of sight through the rusty fall foliage.

A new scent had broken trail through the trees, he discovered. Not one of the guards he kept track of, nor one of his friends. Perhaps it was a Natural taking a different path than usual, a hunter seeking new territory... or perhaps it was something else. The darkish-grey fox (who had once been white, before necessity had led him to using dies and artifice to darken skin and hair, plumage and pelage) trailed the strange young man, watching him curiously. His clothing was strange, his manner seemed uncertain, and at the uncertain call of greeting into the forest at large, Jigano decided to take a chance. Fur shifted to feathers in the morning shadows, and he rose in a flapping of wings to perch in full sight on a nearby branch, about head height with the newcomer.

A raven, darkish-gray in a way that suggested either age or ill-health, tilted its head at Cera to capture him with a bright blue eye before it croaked a rattling: "Hello," back at the wanderer.

The chill of the air is undeniable even in the early morn, and Cera brings his hands to rub against his bared arms. Dirt smears across his olive skin, though he is too used to the sensation to care much for the streaks it leaves behind. It is not quite so cold as to cloud his exhalations in mist, but wherever he is, it must surely be past spring. Leather-clad feet traverse the narrow path, viridescent gaze flittering between branches and horizon. He feels like a raw, exposed nerve. Everything, even the softest touch of the wind against his bare skin, feels like an invasion he has no hope to defend against.

Still, surely there must be some occupants in these lands?

As though beckoning a stranger forth with the force of his thoughts - or perhaps with the pitifulness of his lost countenance - a flurry of wingbeats startles the slim man. Instinctively he turns to the source of the noise, and his eyes alight upon a raven as pale as the moon herself. Though Cera is no stranger to the boldness of the corvidae family - memories of pulled feathers and hair, a flicker of grief in his hollow breast - there is an intelligence to the creature's cerulean eyes that stays his feet. Companion...? he thinks idly, only for the creature's beak to part on an echo of his word.

Cera's face alights like a new sun being born, and he clasps his hands in front of him with a wide, relieved smile. "Hello, feathered friend!" It tumbles from his lips in equal measures of exaltation and reverence, habitually flickering his eyes down in a display of respect that is out of place for the vessel he inhabits. "Pray tell me, where am I? I'm afraid I'm..." his throat chokes viciously on the word alone, grief drawing lines around his eyes and tightening his jaw for a brief moment. With a concentrated twitch of his brow, Cera takes a breath and dissolves the tension. "I'm afraid I don't know where I am." A simpler, easier truth to bear.

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{Hope the tableless version is better for you!}

The not-quite-echo had been a choice both deliberate and enforced. The latter because while his raven's tongue was clever, he could manage only a few simple words at a time. The former, because until he knew what to expect from the stranger it was better to be cautious and maintain plausible deniability of true speech if it became necessary.

The young man's response made that seem unlikely, though it was possible he was playing his own game of disguises. Still, Outlanders had a certain air about them and this one carried it such that Jigano knew he was either sincere, or else a far better actor than the bard could ever be. The reverence was unusual, and he fluffed his feathers up a bit uncomfortably at it, but the young man's cut-off words soothed them down again, the fox-in-raven's-feathers remembering just how strange and overwhelming it all could be.

"Caido," he croaked, the word no echo, but he suspected it wouldn't be familiar, either, and huffed an avian sigh. This wasn't a disguise he wanted to give up after putting so much effort into dying his natural colors to their currently-darkened state, so for the moment he decided to try and persevere. "Portal?"

Feathers shift in a flurry of snowy down on the raven's body, and Cera feels an ache spread like fire across his shoulder blades. There is a sense of loss there more grievous than any other, for though this form had many things - many advantages he thinks as his fingertips give a small, involuntary twitch - it did not have wings. Those which had started as little downy lumps on his small form, which had given him flight, warmth, and freedom. It is silly, to be envious of a bird, but it aches in his breast nonetheless.

Forcibly shaking free of these memories, Cera blinks away the ache in his eyes to refocus upon his little informant. He does not consider for even a moment that this is some shifter, too used to companions and other magical creatures. Perhaps it is his guide to this land? A guardian of the dawnlit woods?

"Caido," the raven croaks in its stilted tongue, a word Cera most certainly does not recognize. With a frown of contemplation, one hand strays to tangle and soothe through golden strands of hair in a self-soothing motion. Only when the word 'portal' is next spoken does it click, and Cera inhales sharply.

"Yes," he confirms with a hint of desperation to his tone. "Caido, is that the name of this realm?" Perhaps it would be easier to ask yes or no questions, he contemplates, so as to prevent the poor bird from having to speak too many words in an unnatural tongue. He would not want to impose on the helpful guide he has found, after all.

Glancing around, his fingers twist nervously at the ends of his hair. The light is growing stronger by the minute, and he knows he must start early if he is to find food, shelter, further information. With a wan smile Cera refocuses on the raven, not daring to hope but silently praying nonetheless that there is some sort of civilization to be found in this realm. It had not always been that way in the past worlds, and he was so very tired of fighting to forge new beginnings only to be yanked away. "My friend I hate to burden you with too many inquiries, but do you know where I may find food? Shelter?" Though, hmm. Perhaps that was too tough a question for the bird's limited vocals. "Can you point me to where?"

Desperation and hope, confusion and excitement, fear and disbelief; Jigano was glad he wasn't still in his fox form, or he wondered if he would smell that conflicting cocktail of scents coming from the polite young man who had found his way into the early morning forest. He tilted his head at the human, studying him thoughtfully as he tried to guess which of the races his soul had manifested into, but until someone displayed their powers it was usually impossible to tell just from looking...

Well. Aside from Ascended. The first rays of sunlight didn't seem to be causing the newcomer any distress, so that could be chalked off the list.

The dark grey head tilted the other direction as he watched the reaction to his words, and he bobbed his head in an affirming nod at the confirmation of what he had said. The other man's hair was almost as long as his, he noted with a little flicker of approving amusement. He would have to find a way to gift him a brush as he started to settle in... But before that, the stranger was asking important questions, and Jigano rattled a chirring chuckle, startling the songbirds around them into scolding alarm calls for a few minutes as golden sun dripped through the Leafchange foliage in warm red and oranges, though plenty of green still remained. This would be easier if you could hear me, he thought through the Attuned mental link, his voice tentative and reluctant still at using it with a stranger, and only trying it because he was more than half-certain it wouldn't work.

"Come," he croaked aloud as well, orienting himself from the direction of the Spire and then fluttering to a branch a few feet further on. "Town!"

The bob of the little guardian's cranium brings a relieved smile to Cera's lips. Knowledge is power, a blade sharper than any metal he could craft. Caido, he thinks to himself firmly, cementing the name and letting what little he has gleaned in the hours since his arrival radiate like tendrils from this main thought. Given time and exposure, Cera knows it will become a spiderweb of intricate details for him to scurry along and pluck at his leisure. For that he is grateful to the raven - he has been offered a beginning.

A croaking laugh distracts him from organizing his thoughts, delighting a little jerk of surprise from the slim human, who laughs joyously at the sound in response. What a darling creature, he thinks fondly, and sends a prayer of thanks to whatever gods rule this realm. At least he did not have to start this journey alone, as he had so many times before.

A secondary jolt shudders through Cera's limbs, much stronger than the last as a voice echoes resoundingly inside his way. It's so intimately close to how he used to speak with his own companion that he flinches away, automatically reaching for his mental barriers before the words even process. However when they do, he can only gape unattractively at the little bird.

"Um...excuse me? Did you just speak?" His voice squeaks a little in surprise, discomfited but reluctant to offend. Especially if this was a better way to communicate! More than one word answers at least, though Cera would have happily worked around that particular barrier.

Before he can ask any further questions, the ghostbird beckons him with a throaty chirrup, alighting upon the next branch. It's disconcerting still, but Cera has always been flexible - he merely puts it to the side for now to bring up later. Cera perks up at the last word - town? It's more than he'd hoped for, having lived a nomadic life for so long. He follows along without question, trailing along behind the raven as the sunlight grows stronger, weakly warming his exposed arms. "Thank you, I'm glad you found me when you did," he admits sincerely, verdant eyes warm and creased at the corners from years of smiles. Leaves crinkle beneath his feet, accompanied by the sound of wingbeats and branches bowing beneath the weight of the bird.

"Oh!" Cera very nearly slaps himself when he realizes he has not even introduced himself to the raven. If it is capable of speech and sentience, he would be remiss to not at least attempt such basic etiquette. "I never introduced myself! My name is Cera," he offers kindly as they walk - and fly - down the path together. He's not sure if the raven can say his own name in his spare vocals, but...well, perhaps that strange eloquence from earlier would arise once more?

The man had a nice laugh, an infectious one, and Jigano’s chortles took a moment to fade as he enjoyed the mirth, however brief. Life had been too dangerous lately, too grim and with too much danger and loss. It felt good to laugh, even if only for a short while. Though his wistful train of thought, wishing that they could communicate more easily, was – for better or worse – not nearly so idle as he had thought. Indeed, as he had hoped it would be! The stranger’s flinch was too well-timed to be coincidence, and Jigano’s focus narrowed onto the man with sudden intentness. Well… that answers that question, he mused. Yes, I did, though I didn’t expect you to hear me. If you’d rather we not speak mind-to-mind I would understand, though. It is still something I’m getting used to, as well. A wry admission, a little humorous, a little bit of disbelief that he had come so far in the year he had been on Caido.

The stranger smiled easily and his eyes were truly stunning, the bard thought idly as he continued to examine the newcomer. He couldn’t help but wonder at the man’s profession and how he had arrived… questions that could be answered if only he asked, but his thoughts were more guarded now, both out of curiosity and a desire to keep his own privacy. ”Lucky,” he croaked in his raven’s voice at the gratitude for being found. ”Hunting.” This… wasn’t going to be easy, but at least he could shape human words in this form! Though perhaps he should find someplace hidden to shift? Though that, too, might scare the newcomer, and for the moment he opted with remaining as he was.

”Cera?” he repeated, managing most of it in near-perfect imitation. ”Smith!” He hopped on the branch he was currently on, bobbing his head to indicate himself. A small owlish head popped up from nearby, coaxed close by his mental call, and the little gryphlet bounced onto the path to look up at Cera with wide golden eyes. She was only the size of a house cat, with a snowy owl’s head and wings and furred foreclaws, and a snow leopards body and tail, but her colors were grey and rust. ”Isuma!” he indicated, with a fond chortle as the little one peeped a greeting of her own to the newcomer.

The pressure of a new realm, the disorientation of transportation, seemed to ease with the gurgling chortles that harmonized with his own laughter. Cera was a soul of companionship, and found purpose and life in the closeness of those around him. That he could say he was no longer alone now, accompanied by the beautiful achromic bird (though he hoped to call him friend soon) was a relief that loosened the tension in Cera's shoulders and settled a glow of tentative contentment around him like a shawl. One that could not be broken even by his surprise at the mental connection between the two, especially as it resurfaced once more in response to his query.

It felt as though a wall was between them however, because Cera reached forth with his mind in the way he remembered with his...previous life, and found nothing there. Odd, but not discouraging. The wryness of the words singing in his head only draws another free, lilting laugh from Cera's mouth. "So long as you're not reading my scattered mind, I don't mind," he teases, bold enough to follow up with a conspiratorial wink. Though, he simply must know..."Is it magic? I'm rather curious," he admits a bit shyly, eyes falling from the raven to the path before them. In his previous worlds, knowledge was never so greatly valued as physical strength - especially in lands where written language was discarded or archaic. It is habitual to be embarrassed by his own thirst for it.

"I hope I didn't interrupt you so badly as to ruin your meal?" Cera frowns slightly. If only he had some materials, any kind of coin or wares to trade or bread to break with the kindly guide. He remembered how tiring it at times could be, welcoming disoriented newcomers to a land you knew like the back of your hand. If it bothered the raven though, he did not show it, and Cera's frown cracked into a smile as his name was repeated quite well, and another given in turn.

"A pleasure to meet you, Smith!" And then - oh, heavens - a little creature came bumbling forth from the bracken, a griffin from Cera's tangled memories and a young one at that. His heart ached as if it had been stabbed, both from loss and zealous joy that the bonding of souls was clearly present in this world. If tears gathered in his eyes at the sight of the adorable little one - dubbed Isuma by Smith's crackled voice - well...he wouldn't admit to them freely. "Hello, little Isuma," he greets instead, with a voice softer than a midday cloud. She is a vision of hope in a way that he doubts either of them will understand.

"You are both welcome to my shoulders as we walk, if you would like," he offers shyly, not wanting to impose and aware of his long-legged gait being swifter on land if he was keeping them from the skies. "I'm unsure how far this town is." Not that he would mind a journey on a beautiful morning such as this.

No, I won't read what I'm not invited to, the raven promised solemnly. On my world it was called telepathy, and it was magic. Here... it is magic, but one inherent only to the shapechangers, he explained, the loreseeker pleased at the sharply inquiring mind the newcomer had. They are one of the races of humans, called 'Attuned' for their link to the gods of this world. And though there was a potential conclusion to be drawn from the fact that Cera could hear him, Jigano hesitated to state it too baldly just yet, before the man had a chance to acclimate a little more.

Jigano ducked his dark-feathered head in acceptance of the courtesy, his pelage dyed a dark gray that was nearly black as part of his disguise to keep the Queen's hunters from his trail. He was glad that they could speak mind-to-mind, even if it was uncomfortable with a stranger. It made things much easier, and he could pay attention to their path and his next landing spot without having to look back at the new Outlander all the time. Only a small delay in it, he assured him.

The introductions led to an unexpected reaction when Isuma made her appearance, and Jigano was a little taken aback at the strength of emotion that Cera showed in meeting the little gryphon. Isuma, bright-hearted creature that she was, reep?ed in concern and pattered close to Cera to reassure him. Though Jigano was not one for physical contact with strangers in any of his forms, Isuma received his permission to flutter up to land on Cera's shoulder, where she proceeded to sniff him over thoroughly before settling in preen his hair in a gentle beak. Thank you, the raven spoke, fondness for his companion coloring his mental voice. And the town is not far. Unfortunately I won't be able to accompany you into it, but I can answer your questions until we reach it. You aren't the first Outlander who has arrived through an unexpected portal between worlds, nor will you be the last... that said, perhaps if you tell me a little bit of the place you came from, I can help you find parallels and differences with where you are now? He came from a world with magic, at least, and seemed to recognize a gryphon, which was more than some newcomers Jigano had helped through their arrival on Caido!

A relieved smile takes over Cera's pale lips at the assurance he's awarded. Whether or not mind reading is even a possibility with...whatever this is, the sincerity of Smith's vow is comforting. What he presents next however is far more interesting, and Cera's enraptured gaze hardly wavers as he soaks in the information. This had once been his job, in a realm far behind him, what seemed a lifetime ago - the storyteller, the knowledge keeper, the diviner of the Gods in all their mysterious ways. Ah, but he has so many questions! Smith seems amenable enough, so he lets them flow forth uninterrupted for now.

"Where I came from, this telepathy was only with your bonded companion, and it was also a magic of sorts." What better way to prompt more information than providing some of his own? Still his fair brows draw forward, crinkling curiously. "One of? So there are more races. Are they all connected to the Gods? How many are there, and are they all shapechangers?" A hand drifts from his hair to rub thoughtfully at his mouth, steps light and slow, unhurried with such good company and provoking commentary. Though a small laugh of surprise does slip through his fingertips as he comes to the conclusion that - "So I am an Attuned then I assume? Ah, it has been some time since I was last in a realm where magic was so common. I'm sure I'll embarrass myself to death trying to figure out the shift," he laughs, already imagining the constipated look on his face he'd surely adopt as he tried to figure out the trigger to this new magic he apparently had.

Shyly Cera flits his gaze to the side, watching Smith hop from branch to branch. "Ah, sorry for all the questions. It's all just so interesting," he breathes almost euphorically, fingers tapping happily against his mouth as he mulls over this new information.

Isuma's introduction leaves him rattled, but her delightful little noises encourages forth a smile brighter than the sun. He holds still for her to land upon his shoulder, only beginning to walk once more when he is sure she is properly settled. Cannot help but feel an ache in his cheeks with how he smiles so wide as she begins to run his hair through her beak, happy to let her do just about anything she could ever want to him. "No, thank you Smith. You've been very kind, I appreciate all you've done for me already," he assures, eyes swaying between the path, the raven, and the companion on his shoulder.

"I was born and led most of my life in a world similar to this one, though no humans - if that is what you call them here - ever seemed to exist within our lands. There were many Gods, all deities lording over various parts of the world. Magic was commonplace, and was either sought out from the Gods or born into you. It did not discriminate, and any could be awarded it if the Gods found them favorable. Companions like Isuma - or, I believe that's what she is to you? - were also commonplace. United souls and thoughts, but no such telepathy. But..."

his voice falters, because the pain of the destruction of his home, the deaths of so many loved ones, the deaths of his Gods...they still haunt his nightmares. It will never be easy to speak about it. Clearing his throat softly, he continues in a quieter tone.

"A rift was ripped open between our world and another, and we were all thrown into a new realm as a false God destroyed ours. I was there only moments, but it was...unsteady, I'd think. So many portals, like the one that brought me here. I have been travelling through them all for who knows how long, in different forms and with different rules." He turns his head to smile wanly at Smith.

"And, well, here I am!" He tries to imbue cheer into his tone, gently pressing the memories down back to where they belonged. Hidden away to haunt him only in the twilight hours. "I was a devout follower of the Gods in my original homeland. You mentioned that Attuned are linked to the Gods here, is it all of them? Is there a pantheon to worship, or individuals?" Though none could replace the God of the Sun who had given him so much, Cera would always be faithful. It was simply who he was.

He had expected a few questions, but what came forth was a deluge, and Jigano couldn’t stop the delighted laugh that filled the mental link when Cera finally stopped for breath. Times were dark, but not so dark that joy could not be found in kindred spirits! You need never apologize for questions with me, he assured Cera, amused but joyously so. Knowledge is my passion, and sharing it is my vocation. So, where to begin… the races and the gods were mentioned, I believe? Here there are four races of humankind, three branches springing from the same bole. Humans unmodified, magicless but always with a choice that they may make in their lives, are the roots from which the others have grown. They are called ‘Accepted’ here. Attuned are humans who have made a pledge to the Old Gods – or Outlanders whose spirits are animal-kin. They are given the ability to become one of Caido’s creatures at will, in tune with the natural world. ‘Ascended’ is the name for those who instead pledge their loyalty to the youngest god, who was once mortal but raised herself up to challenge the old ones and sparked a war three hundred years ago that ended with a magical barrier being raised around this place to contain her. The barrier only fell this past year, allowing us to meet with the Fae. They are their own people, short and winged, long-lived and versed in their own magic. Some humans are born with magic as well, but they are… not looked upon with favor by the gods, he temporized. They were involved in that old war, and the gods do not forget, even if they now blame a generation far removed from the sins of their ancestors.

The raven flew ahead again, croaking a laugh at Cera’s optimism. It should come to you naturally, he offered. Some shifts seem to come under pressure or danger, but for most if you find some time to sit and meditate upon the shape of your soul, you will find it. Whether wings or paws or scales. Or eventually all of the above!

Isuma was perfectly happy to ride in style and help their new friend fit in by ‘fixing’ his hair. And her preening did leave it smoother than it had been before her attentions were paid to it. Jigano merely turned around and bobbed his head in acknowledgment of Cera’s gratitude, pleased but waving it off as perfectly natural.

Yes, she is a companion, and our souls are linked, the raven confirmed, pleased that there were so many points of similarity between the two worlds. It would help the newcomer get used to Caido more quickly, he hoped, and ease some of the homesickness that many felt upon realizing that they couldn’t return from whence they came.

Some of Cera’s story sounded familiar, though, and the raven paused in their journey to look the young man over more closely. Rifts and false gods… are you from Helovia, by chance? What were the chances? The Northhaveners had arrived en masse, but the Helovians seemed to trickle in, one by one, with more arriving every seasons.

Another question had arisen, however, and he did his best to answer it, for it was an important one. There is a pantheon, he said cautiously. And then there is the Voice. Their war came at a great price to the mortals caught in between, and so it is not really feasible to follow them all. He hesitated, his last interaction with Safrin still weighing on him. It may not be right away, he said at last, slowly. But if you pray to them and seek their attentions, there will come a time where you may be asked to choose sides in this war that you have no stake in. And even among the Old Gods there are those that are jealous of their followers and prefer to be the sole focus of their worship above the rest of the pantheon, who they do not necessarily get along with even in the best of times. They bestow many blessings, the gods of this world, but they also bestow curses. It is… not wise to seek their company without a clear goal in mind, he finished, clear warning in his voice and the solemn blue eye he turned on Cera.

A warm flush of satisfied pleasure dusts across Cera's cheeks at Smith's delighted laughter and subsequent assurances. Clearly he had found a friend and kindred spirit, and though Smith's words echo in his head reminding him that Smith cannot escort him the entirety of the way to the town. He hopes quietly to himself that he will see him again, that this is not the end of their budding friendship. Instead of fearing their inevitable departure, he listens intently to the information as it's shared. It's almost like a high, and he can't seem to focus on anything else. It's hard enough putting one foot in front of the other with such tantalizing information on offer. A wry smile twists his lips and he gazes out across the horizon.

"Yes, Gods are often...tempestuous." It's a carefully spoken sentence, but one that's laced with fond amusement. Celestial beings were not known for their patience, and their grudges were fittingly cosmic. Cera never thought to try to understand them,focusing instead on matters within his control. Like the shift, which Smith seemed to have confidence he would master swiftly. "Ah, but isn't it bold to say I can know the shape of my own soul? I'm sure others perceive me differently," he quips playfully, unable to help the philosophy of it all. Not his normal concentration of intellect, but one he'd honed as a Diviner for many years.

To hear the Gods were as fickle and perhaps even more manipulative than even the Goddess in her unknown ways had been, it was no comfort. Still, he knew the games that deities liked to play. Their machinations were not unknown to him. Though he would not seek them out for quite some time until he knew which God - if any - he would deign to swear fealty to, the cautionary words were nonetheless appreciated.

"Seeking out a God of any kind is a gamble, and never one to be taken lightly," he sighs knowingly, a hint of a frown playing at his mouth. Humming softly he turns his eyes back to the road, reluctant to shift his head too far lest he disturb Isuma from her perch.

"This town, what can you tell me about it? Are there shops, professions? Social structure is so complex," he bemoans playfully. "I used to be a forger, a soldier, a medic," he lists in a soft drawl. "Is there any place I can put those skills to use?" Being directionless had never done Cera any favors, had only left him far too alone with his thoughts. Never a good thing.

Tempestuous is a good word for them, the raven agreed with dry humor. But what does it matter how others perceive you? he asked curiously. Your soul is your own, and none of theirs. The shape of it - or shapes, plural - is yours, and yours alone. Others may see pieces of you, even know you well and know many pieces, but you are the only one who can know yourself in your entirety, your complexity, and all of your past. Jigano had arrived on Caido having been born a shapeshifter on his own world, and so he had slipped into the form granted him here without even realizing he might have lost it. Not until much later, at least.

The raven's progress was slow, both so that Cera could keep up and also that they could prolong their conversation as they walked through the pleasant woods. The morning chill was warming nicely towards a beautiful Leafchange day, and Jigano was glad that the weather was holding for Cera's arrival so that he didn't end up in the middle of a thunderstorm as Melinoe had. He sent a pulse of whole-hearted agreement through the link that the gods weren't to be taken lightly, but Cera's next question had him chuckling again.

Much of it is in ruins, he warned. The damage dates back three hundred years or so, to the war and the raising of the barrier from the Spire. But there is that which survived, and has been rebuilt or reclaimed over generations and by outlander arrivals like ourselves. There is no currency, but barter and trade suffice to get what you need, mostly in hard goods, but sometimes in services or favors to be called in later. There is a market, yes, and an Infirmary, where a medic's skills are welcome indeed. Smiths are always in demand. I have some skill with metalwork, and my friend will be opening his new forge soon. Soldiering... Here he paused, his welcoming attitude shifting along with his body language as feathered hackles rose and he grew tense and brooding.

Guards are needed, yes, for there are bandits and thieves, he said, more slowly than the words warranted. But recently... recently someone has taken power and attempted to impose her own laws upon this place. She is an outlander, and not well-liked. She calls herself a 'Tyrant' and styles herself 'the Merciless' and unsurprisingly that hasn't gone down well. Hence why he couldn't go into town so easily at the moment, when once he would have gladly escorted Cera to the Rathskeller for a drink and a meal to help him get started with his new life.