fair warning
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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MP: 9824
#15
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
Deimos was not a dreamer – he didn’t dwell in fanciful, whimsical interludes; a beast bent to more tangible concoctions and creations, where he could mold machinations and calculations, where reality simmered and scalded. But the notion of mountains and the ocean was enough to let him imagine, just a for a single, solitary moment, where they wouldn’t have to stay amidst these haunted Hollowed Grounds, where tyrant Queens were not plotting new ways to condemn, where salt met the sea, where summits rose towards the sky. It was a craving for things he once had, once absorbed, once clenched and grasped onto; surroundings and existences that had taught him loyalty, honor, amidst the calamities and discords. “Interesting,” he said, a little flatter; as if the mere inclination of those worlds didn’t send his thoughts swarming into hope and warm regard – not wanting them to launch, be released, too high; not when everything else was too murky, too drawn, too chaotic.

But then it was the Spire again, and he’d rather have dwelled on themes of waves and how far currents could travel, if there was an end and a beginning, if he could scale cliffs with his bare hands and never have to set foot near some nasty manor – there was the ridiculous column instead. His gaze narrowed again, listening with a distinct manner of nonchalance and reticence, clambering right back into his wretched, apathetic demeanor when lost in thought, when forced into paradigms and quandaries that were likely to get him, or many others involved, mauled and killed. The fact that Jigano was permitting Rory to go down surprised him – the intense rush of constant apprehension and consternation towards Amalia’s wellbeing, his own, and the rest of their team in that condemning hellhole had been enough without the unrelenting bombardment of poison, insects, and whatever else the open room had concocted. Instead, his tone was flatter, any exhilaration from the discovery of other worlds completely gone and barren. “Dangerous? We were set on fire.” Perhaps they’d been too busy in the earth mound to hear him and Vai set ablaze, an explosion rocking through the core of the foundation with no subtlety – the knowledge of this tactic didn’t make him feel any better. “Is this supposed to convince me to go?” His humor was sharp and cold, acerbic, the dread already creeping in. "There must be a better way," he mulled, hands looking for the armor again to chafe and bristle against. "Can we not uproot them? Would that stop them..." His voice rounded off when his eyes went to the ground, glancing at other plant life nearby.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
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#16
Interesting. Deimos's talent for understatement was reaching unplumbed depths, and in a less emotionally fraught conversation, Jigano might even have teased the mountain about it. Today, however, he found he didn't have the energy for it, not with having recently realized his time of running and hiding was going to have to come to an end in the next few days. Instead he focused on what was going to need to happen to reach the purported portal, on the combination of magics and the dangers they would face - dangers that Deimos knew all too intimately.

"Ah... yes, Vai mentioned that. We couldn't really tell what was going on outside of Delah's shelter," he admitted, a touch apologetic. "But if Rory can stand back in the tunnel and set the spark before we all go in, hopefully the plants will take the initial damage while we stay safe." And then the farmer could wait a little ways up the stairs and away from the worst of the gas until they needed a break and decided to try it again, with everyone retreating to the stairs again while he sparked the gas from a distance. With his control over fire, the hunter could hopefully keep the flames away from the tunnel the Fae's earth magic had made into the plant-chamber, too.

The acerbic question - or was it an accusation? - had the bard shaking his head, exasperation bubbling up. Gods, was the man never satisfied? "No, it's not. You survived it once, barely. And I doubt Amalia will let you go back down a second time anyways. She's going to be unhappy enough that anyone is going back, and I'm not looking forward to that conversation as it is." A conversation that would only happen if he wasn't in jail in a few days, but Jigano had never been one to not make plans for all eventualities he could come up with. He shrugged at the suggestion, though it wasn't necessarily a bad one. "The Tulmhainar suggested magic, and I think she's right, especially after talking with Remi about it. There are a lot of plants down there. Uprooting them would stop them as surely as burning or life draining or chopping them down, but it wouldn't necessarily be faster, especially given how big a lot of them are. With the gas, speed is of the essence, and most mastered magical means can hit more plants at once than attacking them individually."
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#17
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
A hint of exasperation started knotting its way through the Reaper’s mind. In another circumstance, predator in his voracious repose, he might have raised his hackles and told Jigano to move along; they were talking at cross purposes, parallel and never seeming to link up. There were so many tangled threads amidst the possibility of this plan, and he wasn’t certain if the opportunity to delve into the Spire was more for the stone snake, the potential portals, or destroying the plants – or if the bard intended to mold into all three. But surely he must have known, must have noticed, must have realized the level of danger…how was he going to protect them all, when the insects swarmed, when something else inevitably happened? “Hope is not a lot to go on,” he murmured, eyes cast out over the fields, striving to collect and phrase his words together so they were meaningful, and not misunderstood. “I meant magic for uprooting.” Here his stare sharpened back over to the Loreseeker, as if he were purposefully not listening, or rambling onto something else – his jaw clenched, his chest heaved with a sigh, and he lingered along the threshold of going too far or not far enough, waxing and waning the calculations in his mind.

Because while some of these contortions seemed paramount – the poisonous plants first and foremost – why was he risking others’ lives for a snake that might not even remain? If the Tulmhainar protected it, and the turtle was long since gone, who was to say the serpent wasn’t? Who was to say this wasn’t a venture into slaughter, leading his friends down into the abattoir? It was that notion that truly irked him; as if hiding around corners would ensure their safety, as if these people didn’t have families or loved ones, striving to make the world a better place while suffocating and choking on the bile of that damned Spire. Deimos’ whole entity had once been comprised into teamwork, camaraderie on the battlefield, ensuring the man next to you was still alive and kicking, defending, protecting, yearning for everyone to make it to the end. Everything in this discussion felt cold, stark, and desolate, not the essence of a troupe with a game plan, but scattered together, despite all the known threats, and the ominous ones laced and courted in that hellhole. His voice was quiet, but distinct: he wanted Jigano to hear, he wanted him to know, he wanted the inquiries spread across the plain so that there was something in place for when everything came crashing down. “The insects came in a swarm and crawled into our wounds. The poison and the explosion nearly killed us. And you want to bring in those you care about? How are you going to protect them all?” It lacked warmth, but it spoke of experience, it spoke of the clarity of the moments, it spoke of a mountain who had always strived to tend to those he’d sworn to defend, aiming to call off the zigzagged agenda until they had something clearer, more precise. “What are you going to do when they start dying? When they are tired?” Those edges were more raw, more real, because not only had he attempted to defend others in that void, in that abyss, but he’d used up so much of himself that more than the nettles and thorns of exhaustion had peeked through. “The blight has to be stopped, but this plan…” He trailed off, shaking his head. I am afraid you are going to get them all killed.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#18
"Without hope, what reason for trying anything new?" he asked back, voice quiet. "Magically uprooting them might indeed be possible. Remi's earth magic might allow for that. Telekinesis might work as well. I'll pass that along to the others."

He watched Deimos speak of a terror that he had been there for. He had not faced the explosion, but the mountain had not faced the vines that tried to pull them into the earth, or the fierce gravity that had snapped Delah's leg. The insects might well still be there, but that's why he was going, in spite of having no useful magic. "I cannot do it alone," he said simply. "If I could, I would not risk anyone else. But I can't. Vai knows the dangers as well as you and I do. Remi does not, but he has been told, and he saw the state Ronin was in when he returned. Rory..." Here the bard faltered, voice catching for a moment. He met Deimos's eyes squarely, worry in them but also resolve. "I am scared to death of him going down there again, yes. But when he heard what I was planning he wouldn't let me go alone. And even if those plants aren't the source of the blight, even if all we do is kill enough of them to clear the poison from the air... still, it will be worth doing if that is what is needed to open the path to the portal."

He considered Deimos for a moment, that warrior who seethed and simmered beneath a countenance so often cold, who never spoke three words when one would do. Deimos, who would follow Amalia to the gates of Hell, who watched and waited, but who Jigano had rarely seen do without the baker's involvement, the impetus of something she wanted, or something that had been done to her. What was this world to a man such as him? A home? Or simply a place to wait between, made tolerable by the presence of a woman he had fallen in love with? Kiada had told him something of Deimos' past, but the bard found that there was still much he didn't understand about the mountain he sometimes thought was his friend, and sometimes... sometimes he didn't know what Deimos thought. It seemed they were at odds as often as they worked in tandem.

"I am going to protect them as best I can," he said, voice still soft. "From the insects, and anything else that tries to attack them while they handle the plants. I am aware of my inadequacies, but I also trust them to know when to retreat. Vai and Rory aren't fools; they've both left the basement before when the poison became too much for them. I'll drag Remi out myself if I have to, but now that he has Ronin and Aoife to return to I think he'll take better care of himself. And it might take two or three attempts to clear the place, yes." He shook his head, a wry smile working its way back in spite of his weariness with the world. "I think we need to find out if that portal is still there, and if we can use it to find a refuge from Zariah. I think that the longer we take, the more chance we have of being discovered, and losing whatever advantage might be gained from it. There is no guarantee that it will still be there, or that it will still work as the book described... but from what the Tulmhainar said, I am willing to bet my life on it, and to ask others to risk themselves as well. If you have a better plan, I'm willing to listen. And if you were willing to come with us, to protect them from what we know is a dangerous and risky undertaking? I would welcome your presence." Jigano looked Deimos over carefully, his smile falling away. "But after the last time... no, Deimos, I don't feel like I can just ask you to join us. How the hell am I supposed to ask a friend still reeling from that experience to face it again so soon?" For Vai had taken his request with calm competence and agreement that the task needed doing, and Rory with a grim sort of determination that Jigano suspected hid fear, but which the farmer pushed past with stubborn will. Deimos, though, had come out of that Spire scarred more deeply than any of them except Amalia, and Jigano didn't know what combination of space, time, and challenge would help the taciturn man overcome it.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
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#19
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
“I have always found planning more effective than hope.” His brow arched, the acerbic humor all but suddenly drowned out by the weight of his words and the assemblage of Jigano’s. There were so many things lined in those lengthy diatribes, in the root and heart of the matter, that the Reaper simply absorbed them, took it all in, rekindled them back and forth through his mind. What he heard didn’t overly impress him - as best I can wasn’t a method, wasn’t a means, wasn’t a measure at all, but a bland statement, a fixture of nothingness, vague overtures and handwaves; a politician's standby. At some declarations, the whole thing seemed downright manipulative, and the beast hadn’t reigned on his summit for so many years without hearing the annals and tomes behind deceit, behind specious lines and designs, behind disingenuous tactics. Silence was a gesture he often employed – because it guarded, but it also gave him time to simmer and sink into their crafting, treacherous scheming, and while Jigano might have been genuine, the way he twisted foundations, the way he chose some words, gave the warrior all the more pause. He’d lived and breathed cloaks, daggers, and weapons – this individual had poised information like knives and cutlasses, a rapier faultline molded into his runes, disguises, and bard convictions.

We. He kept saying we. What was he going to do while the rest of them tied their incantations and enchantments into the fray, while they labored and died and drowned in the murk of the poison?

Everything was worth it, he said. It was worth others drifting off into demise, condemned, scorned, no one to pluck them from their ashes. It was worth others dying for his ambitions.

I am willing to bet my life on it.

Then there were the other underlying schemes, the way he turned a phrase so that if Deimos was willing to come with them (but oh no, poor distraught Deimos; reeling from the hell he’d experienced, clearly falling apart at the seams because he didn’t want friends to perish beneath stone walls for a lost cause), Jigano would be willing to have him in their crew.

After Jigano was finished, the beast leaned back – his eyes squarely on the Loreseeker, who seemed so utterly driven to finding anything he could, that he would risk everyone else’s life – and gave his own keen speech. “Then why are you going?” It wasn’t malicious, it wasn’t seething, but truthful, blunt, short and to the point – for all he’d heard was simplistic arts and designs, no craft to them, no shape to them, no modicum of how he was going to ensure these people, who came at his beck and call, would survive under his tutelage and instruction. He nearly snorted. But his features remained nonchalant, for all his thoughts managed to bolster their way into the fields. “What are you contributing?”, If it was his ability to discuss with snakes, didn’t Remi possess the same nuances? If it was his ability to direct and presume command, any one of them could do that by casual observations. If it was his looming desire for glory and sagacity, then that wouldn’t be enough; for any one of them. “If they know when to run. If they know when to flee. If they know their own instincts.” His eyes narrowed, at war with himself; protective, warrior instincts leaping and clawing, baying and breaking, sliding over what should have been better sense.

Because he could safeguard and shield them. He would. He’d done it before. He’d do it again. “I will go, if you do not.”
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#20
”And in combination of hope and planning, the keys to success,” Jigano returned, his humor dry as a desert wind. But humor swiftly fell away as he gave the skeptic his honesty, stripping away defenses to give Deimos a vulnerability he would only show a friend. He gave what he had and in return, not support but more doubt, more certainty of his ineptitude, more dismissal of what he had survived and endured, some of which Deimos knew and had witnessed.

The bard shook his head, for he was beginning to think Deimos did not want to understand. ”I am going because Vai and I spoke of the need for a guardian for the mages, one who does not need to focus on the plants. I am going because Remi and I spoke of the amount of plants down there, and how every mage who can use their magic against them will need to focus on that, because the gas will limit how long we can spend down there, so clearing out as much as we can as fast as we can will be important. If we are lucky the only challenge we face will be the gas, and that is more than challenge enough. But we are not counting on luck alone.” He gestured sharply, and his nails briefly shifted to claws before flickering back to their more human guise.

”My presence is a planned precaution, to serve as a shield for the mages if any insects remain, or anything else is a physical threat. Rory will spark the initial gas and direct the explosion back into the chamber before anyone goes inside. Vai will blow the new poison gas upwards and away from us as we work. Remi will change the plants’s capacity for poison – or uproot them, as you suggest – or however else he sees fit to wield the magic he knows best once he sees the area. When the gas becomes too much again, we all retreat to the bottom of the stairs and let Rory blast it clear again before starting anew, or taking breaks at the top of the stairs to recover. Remi has said he will discuss masks with you to protect ourselves with. Isla will wait at the top of the Spire to heal anyone who needs it. But also…” He met Deimos’s eyes squarely, and his voice was quiet, not accusatory, but not shying away either. ”The last time we all went down together, you had to leave us down there. I know you have courage. I know you have strength. And I know you wouldn’t have left if you could have stayed. But we were trapped in the hut, entangled in vines and being pulled under the earth.” Amalia had been trapped in what could have been her grave.

”And you left,” he said simply. And then had still had enough strength left to fight with a Landshark shortly after, from the tale Kiada told, so the poison had not completely disarmed him.

”So yes, I will go. Because I will not abandon anyone who goes down there with me. I didn’t before, and I won’t this time. And that includes you. We’ll need all the help we can get… but like Hell I’d ask Rory to go down there and then not be at his side.”
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,554 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#21
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
He drew in the wilderness, the calm platitudes, the mountainous regions of his primordial summits, the strength, the ruminations, the bestial inferno amongst composure – because this was a tangled road he now lingered upon. The back and forth, the defensive measures, the bestial shades drawing over their lingering doubts of one another: and he gave nothing, nothing, nothing, the primeval ice king with his glacial walls and his nonchalant fortifications. It was reticence again in the self-possessed, detached demeanor, forbearance for friends, for allies, for comrades, who he feared were going to be annihilated, tossed against, and brutalized for one individual’s agenda. Because for all the inquiries Deimos had prospered, for all the blunt, keen notes, the answers still weren’t there. Jigano’s presence might have been a planned precaution, but against what? What could he do about the insects? What could he do about the gas? What could he do but linger along a threshold, and then have to be saved himself? Why not just let the mages go? They knew how to protect themselves. They knew how to arm. They knew their own munitions. “I did not ask how they would fight.” He trusted in them. He had faith in them. Their enchantments, their invocations, were a part of their existence; just the same as the coldblooded intonations pulsing and pervading through his blood. “I am asking how you will fight, Jigano.” A blanket statement needed to be more than just I will; where was the wisdom and sagacity in these ventures? There might’ve been other threats, other dangers, besides hordes of unrelenting insects, or poison simmering in the air. How was he meant to safeguard them? Where was that portion of the plan? His analytical, scrupulous mind dug for details, nuances, reassurances that a guardian was truly there, and not just in it because of the latter, the potential results –

And then, perhaps because he’d cut a nerve, the bard swung back to him.

You had to leave us down there.

And you left.

Because I will not abandon anyone.

His eyes narrowed a fraction, the only indication of an infernal, incensed, bestial force careening and harpooning through his chest. Jigano had known exactly where to press, exactly where to claw; used his words as weapons – and what might’ve been a scandalous annihilation to anyone else, ensured Deimos was a rigid, taut statue, a behemoth, a monolith. He’d survived much worse than the unsaid accusations. “Vai left. I was determined to stay.” And he would’ve; he would’ve died there in the sanction of stone, entombed and enshrouded again by rock and rubble, taken and mauled, not mattering in the least. Would he have served a better purpose then, in his second demise?

“I was the only one available to call Safrin, at Amalia’s request.” Her screams along the horde of earth – hadn’t Jigano heard them? Maybe his snake eyes behind the loam and dirt and mounds of insects hadn’t seen the Reaper hesitate, fully entrenched in horrific decisions, to stay or to go, leave behind his friends or run to get more help. Maybe he wanted to paint the Colossus as the weaker, as the lesser, as the useless, as the inept, and in some contortions, he might’ve been right.

Not today though. Not now. Not in the midst of all this deviousness, all these calculations, all these manipulations striking away from the heart of the subject. It was a device, a ruse, to deflect. He knew it. He’d experienced it. “Perhaps you were not listening when Kiada mentioned I tried to come back for all of you.” And he couldn’t, struck down no sooner than the stardust had been cast along his gaze (another failure). “But then we were attacked.” He’d nearly died there too. Would his merits have been better served with him cold and dead, losing the battle of wills and survival all over again? That appeared to be Jigano’s case, an underlying insinuation. His emotionless visage and vocals exposed the lines in the sand, in the dust, in the ashes. Where Deimos hadn’t used any incriminations, any mettle other than inquiries as to why Jigano had to be the one to save them all, the Loreseeker twisted allegations to suit his needs, his purpose. I know you have courage. I know you have strength. “Yet, here you are, implying I do not." By suggesting he should've simply perished; that would've accomplished something in the midst: death again, no one's actions ever as much, never as purposeful, as the bard's own. "Use what you must for your narrative.”

Because the Reaper’s plans were already forming, altering, morphing with each new breath, each new vexation.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
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Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
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#22
”I will fight as I did last time,” he said, eyes narrowing as he considered the man across from him. Had Deimos been so blind that he had not seen Jigano’s success against the insects before he had slipped within the hut to protect Amalia, leaving the bugs to Deimos - trusting the other man to be able to handle them? ”In the shape of the snake that can crush and strike faster than a human can move, protected by scales that are less susceptible to the poison than my human skin, and able to hold my breath beyond my human capacity so that I can guard those in my care for longer than even the masks lasted. I can be the first one in to scout if anything has changed that could threaten us, and because of my abilities I will be the last one out.” The last one of those who descended with him, at least, as he had been both previous times he had been in the Spire.

The earthen dome that had covered them completely had hidden Deimos and Vervain from sight, just as Deimos had been unable to see the struggles of those within it. Jigano had been next to Amalia and had heard no screams, only a call – a command – to both of those who had stayed without, too slow to make it into the hut when Delah had raised it. Perhaps Vervain had left first; he’d been focused on other problems at the time, but he didn’t think she had preceded the big man by more than a handful of seconds even so. ”Vai could have called for Safrin,” he said with a sigh, remembering Amalia’s focus on the mind beneath them, and the confident way she had directed them to feed it their memories. She had not cared who had called the goddess, only that it was done.

And look how that had turned out.

”I heard what Kiada said. I heard what you said as well,” Jigano spoke quietly, weariness edging his voice at how round and round they went without making any progress at all. ”My apologies to Zuriel, but from your own words it sounded like you chose to intervene there, instead of using that strength to return to the Spire, whether Kiada would allow it or not.” And there was a true disconnect there, for Jigano had never had anyone who had ever tried to stop him from doing something dangerous, valuing his life above others, the way Kiada apparently had for Deimos. He could hear the words, but not truly picture a situation where a friend could or would choose to stop him in such a way.

”I do not want to think of you as lacking resolve or courage. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, where I can. You left to save your life, because staying any longer in the Spire would have resulted in your death, and that would have helped no one. But… then you fought another battle. Chose to fight it, over retreating from it and returning to us. So what am I supposed to think?” And perhaps it was a bit personal, too, for Deimos had left the bard as well as the baker in that basement, tangled in vines and uncertain whether they would survive the next ten minutes.

”I only have the narrative that you wrote with your actions,” he finally said with a sigh and a shake of his head. ”I came to you with this because I—“ Trusted you sat too bitterly on his tongue after the constant stream of pessimistic criticism of the bard’s abilities and sudden shift from thinking the Spire was too dangerous, to wanting to lead the expedition without Jigano involved in any way, after the work he had done to assemble those the Tulmhainar had said would be necessary. After all, it had not been Deimos who had stayed to hear the great tortoise’s words at the end. Nor Deimos who had braved the gas and gravity to find the key to removing the poison of the plants. ”I thought someone should know what was planned. Someone not involved.” A safety net to rescue them, should the worst come to pass and Jigano’s bravado prove to be not enough. Despite what the big man thought, the plans had been laid with care. ”But if you do not approve of this venture, I’ll find someone else.” Caiside, perhaps, or Sascha and his healing magic.

”My apologies for bothering you,” he spoke courteously from ingrained habit, but he turned away from the big man, seeing no way to convince him otherwise as he left the little training yard and headed back towards the Sanctuary, brow furrowed deeply in thought.


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