He'd half-expected Bastien to keep going. More than half, if he'd expected anything at all, and he wouldn't have blamed the other man if he had. He didn't owe Jigano any answers, and he had already given him a gift - however unintended - with the jab of the Rose's thorn. The artist would have been well within his rights, and all common sense, to just walk away. The words were more courtesy than Jigano knew he deserved, even if he wasn't sure what exactly he'd done. He was sure if had been terrible, though. It always was, when he woke in these rare moments of lucidity from the Blight's black grasp on his mind and body.
"It's alright," he said quietly, shifting his hand to tenderly feel the ache in his jaw. "I... don't remember it. I don't remember... much at all." The admission was wrested from him in abject misery, the keeper of lore and memory an exile in his own mind. "I just hope I didn't hurt you in return." He took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to drop his hands to his knees and really look at Bastien to try and confirm his initial impression that the Ascended was unwounded.
"No," he confessed, black eyes haunted in his haggard face. Nightmares danced at the corners of his vision, and he slowly wrapped his shaking arms around himself - an easy task with how gaunt he had become. "The Roses... their thorns seem to keep the blight at bay but... it's only temporarily. I might have a few hours, but nothing more. And no guarantee when I'll fall to it again," he finished bitterly. Not enough time to go see his loved ones or friends, not when he had no idea how long or short the interlude would be. Now that it had him, the blight did not seem inclined to give him up again, not even at the behest of magical roses with golden thorns.
"It's alright," he said quietly, shifting his hand to tenderly feel the ache in his jaw. "I... don't remember it. I don't remember... much at all." The admission was wrested from him in abject misery, the keeper of lore and memory an exile in his own mind. "I just hope I didn't hurt you in return." He took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to drop his hands to his knees and really look at Bastien to try and confirm his initial impression that the Ascended was unwounded.
"No," he confessed, black eyes haunted in his haggard face. Nightmares danced at the corners of his vision, and he slowly wrapped his shaking arms around himself - an easy task with how gaunt he had become. "The Roses... their thorns seem to keep the blight at bay but... it's only temporarily. I might have a few hours, but nothing more. And no guarantee when I'll fall to it again," he finished bitterly. Not enough time to go see his loved ones or friends, not when he had no idea how long or short the interlude would be. Now that it had him, the blight did not seem inclined to give him up again, not even at the behest of magical roses with golden thorns.
