Winter is usually my favorite season, he allowed, the personal tidbit given a little grudgingly, but freely nonetheless as he sang and fell in behind her. It was, admittedly, more reassuring to have her in front of him where he could see her. She might be turning over a new leaf, but old grudges died hard, even when he was consciously trying to give her a chance. Numeria was a northern land, cold and harsh and beautiful, especially in winter. Deepfrost would not be so terrible if we didn't have Long Night to deal with. And... his thoughts trailed off, shying away from mentioning the weight that bore down on everyone's shoulders of late. Their King had the blight. Ronin was friend to some, family to others, ruler to them all. No one was entirely untouched by the creeping illness that had befallen the Greatwood, the goddess, and now the humans of the Hollowed Grounds as well.
Most souls should find their way to Ludo on their own. I seek those too lost or unwilling to reach him. If they are only lost, then it is my honor and pleasure to lead them on to the masked god. If they refuse to go... that will be a different challenge, he admitted grimly. Ideally they would be drawn into the lantern and trapped there until he could get them to a shrine, but the lantern was a new addition to his arsenal, and so far untested.
Still, he steeled himself to have faith in Ludo's gift.
Ludo had given him the lantern at his request, but Ashetta had received her best friend back from Mort's compassion. He would have thought her a loyal follower of the gentle god, but her answer came as something of a surprise and he arched a brow as they continued walking a slow and meandering path through the ruins. Surely any who heard them would be spooked as the slender woman spoke to the white-haired man, who never ceased singing his ancient song.
Ahhh, that's right. Your land had no gods. I think Remi told me that. Prayer can be a very personal thing... The gods tend to know what's in your heart and mind, and trying to keep secrets from them can be a dangerous game. He slanted a glance at her, but she already knew that, didn't she? She had said that Mort had embraced her knowing full well who she was and what she had done. He shivered a little as a chill gust blew from behind them, stirring the fog that pressed in around the diffuse sphere of light cast by his lantern. Pulling his cloak a little closer around his shoulders he considered her lack of knowledge with a thoughtful pause, wondering how best to describe something that could be so different between people. People usually pray for help with something that they feel is beyond their control, asking the gods to intervene. Sometimes it's a giving of thanks, if they feel that good fortune is due to a god looking out for them. Here... the gods are a lot closer than they were on my world. Sometimes people pray because we're worried for the gods, he admitted, thinking heavily of Safrin and the burden of blight she carried.
He tilted his head at theassassin messenger, a question tickling at his consciousness though he wasn't yet sure if he should pursue it. What do you know of Ludo? And... which Shrine did you go to when you met with Mort? Those would do for a start, at least, and perhaps... if anyone could help him...
But it wasn't easy, asking an ex-assassin for help with anything, much less something so important as what he had in mind. Even if she was better suited to the task than anyone else he could think of.
Most souls should find their way to Ludo on their own. I seek those too lost or unwilling to reach him. If they are only lost, then it is my honor and pleasure to lead them on to the masked god. If they refuse to go... that will be a different challenge, he admitted grimly. Ideally they would be drawn into the lantern and trapped there until he could get them to a shrine, but the lantern was a new addition to his arsenal, and so far untested.
Still, he steeled himself to have faith in Ludo's gift.
Ludo had given him the lantern at his request, but Ashetta had received her best friend back from Mort's compassion. He would have thought her a loyal follower of the gentle god, but her answer came as something of a surprise and he arched a brow as they continued walking a slow and meandering path through the ruins. Surely any who heard them would be spooked as the slender woman spoke to the white-haired man, who never ceased singing his ancient song.
Ahhh, that's right. Your land had no gods. I think Remi told me that. Prayer can be a very personal thing... The gods tend to know what's in your heart and mind, and trying to keep secrets from them can be a dangerous game. He slanted a glance at her, but she already knew that, didn't she? She had said that Mort had embraced her knowing full well who she was and what she had done. He shivered a little as a chill gust blew from behind them, stirring the fog that pressed in around the diffuse sphere of light cast by his lantern. Pulling his cloak a little closer around his shoulders he considered her lack of knowledge with a thoughtful pause, wondering how best to describe something that could be so different between people. People usually pray for help with something that they feel is beyond their control, asking the gods to intervene. Sometimes it's a giving of thanks, if they feel that good fortune is due to a god looking out for them. Here... the gods are a lot closer than they were on my world. Sometimes people pray because we're worried for the gods, he admitted, thinking heavily of Safrin and the burden of blight she carried.
He tilted his head at the
But it wasn't easy, asking an ex-assassin for help with anything, much less something so important as what he had in mind. Even if she was better suited to the task than anyone else he could think of.
