"It's not my home," he said wearily, wondering how to explain it to Sam. "Not really." He scowled at the red head's back as they descended, scratching idly at his arm, feeling a dark annoyance curling up in his breast at the bookmaker's constant misunderstandings, his willful obliviousness to anything that didn't suit his book-bordered world. "It's Rory's farm. His house. His home." The building mattered not at all to the bard, not compared to the man who lived in it. But he was beginning to lose sight of even that at times, when the rages took him and he couldn't remember what it felt like to love or be loved.
Mention of Ronin at least sobered him, for he had no trouble hearing the word that Sam left unspoken, changing at the last second to a more optimistic - if fundamentally wrong - one. He barked a dark laugh, not quite human in the Spire's shadows, and shook his head. "If he could make something like that, he'd already have done it for Ronin," the bard sneered bitterly. "And if we wait until Ronin is 'better' it'll be too late for me, as well."
Mia was a desperate grab at something innocuous, a gentler topic of conversation that he could turn his crumbling attention to and keep hold of his uneven temper. Isuma's friend, the sweet-tempered kitten, fluffy and playful, was always a reason for cheer. The description of her was soothing, and for a moment Jigano thought he would be able to regain his emotional equilibrium. Between me and Nathaniel in bed put a nail in that coffin, however, and his voice came out remarkably - deceptively - mild. "Oh? I thought he slept on the couch." Or so the story had gone when he had visited the bookmaker's home in... was it Flowerbirth? How swiftly time had flown. It was no wonder, then, that the tenant had gone from friend to lover, sharing the same roof as they did.
Mention of Ronin at least sobered him, for he had no trouble hearing the word that Sam left unspoken, changing at the last second to a more optimistic - if fundamentally wrong - one. He barked a dark laugh, not quite human in the Spire's shadows, and shook his head. "If he could make something like that, he'd already have done it for Ronin," the bard sneered bitterly. "And if we wait until Ronin is 'better' it'll be too late for me, as well."
Mia was a desperate grab at something innocuous, a gentler topic of conversation that he could turn his crumbling attention to and keep hold of his uneven temper. Isuma's friend, the sweet-tempered kitten, fluffy and playful, was always a reason for cheer. The description of her was soothing, and for a moment Jigano thought he would be able to regain his emotional equilibrium. Between me and Nathaniel in bed put a nail in that coffin, however, and his voice came out remarkably - deceptively - mild. "Oh? I thought he slept on the couch." Or so the story had gone when he had visited the bookmaker's home in... was it Flowerbirth? How swiftly time had flown. It was no wonder, then, that the tenant had gone from friend to lover, sharing the same roof as they did.
