Deimos approached first, and Jigano’s jaw tightened imperceptibly at the Sword’s presence. Their history was a fraught one, uneasy at the best of times, and swift to unravel under pressure. He might have been as much to blame for that as the taciturn warrior, but it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to admit to. The blight in his blood made it harder still to be magnanimous, not least because his last memory of the big man was in the Cloister, when the early tendrils of darkness had curved around his heart and guided his sword in a swift attack that had claimed victory.
Well, that wasn’t quite true, but it was the truth as he knew it. An eagle in the snow might have flickered hazily on the jagged edges of his first flash of Deepfrost lucidity, but Deimos was a mage, not an Attuned, of course.
But Deimos had to have seen his name on the bottom of the notice that had been posted, and yet he had come anyways to help. Maybe he had come to help Rory rather than Jigano… but he was here now, and he hadn’t turned around and left yet. Composing himself against the burn of vicious words that thrummed in the back of his throat, Jigano gave the big man a careful nod. ”Deimos,” he greeted back, cool but courteous and at least momentarily in control of his worst impulses.
Ah, and yet the Sword did not arrive alone, nor in the company that Jigano expected. Not Amalia but a different woman walked at his side, petite and deadly-beautiful as she prowled across the snowy ground. The touch she gave – that he accepted – was warning enough of where she stood if lines would be drawn. Deimos was not, in Jigano’s experience, the type for casual touch in the way that Sam or Amalia could be. Was this, then, yet another Helovian refugee, arrived when the blight had reduced him to less than a beast? Her smile was bright as knives in sunlight, and a healthier bard would have relished the testing of rapier wits and genteel greetings. Alas, Jigano was far from at his best, though the offered hand did bring the smallest quirk of a smile to his lips as he gave an apologetic shake of his head. ”No offense meant, Hotaru , but given the blight still in my blood I’ll have to shake your hand another day.” At least he managed a modicum of courtesy to accompany his almost painful bluntness. ”But I am indeed Jigano…”
He trailed off asLoren approached, eyes brightening a little in the hopes of seeing a somewhat-friendly face. The brief moment of optimism fizzled within seconds as the scholar stopped at Deimos’s shoulder, his body language shouting his support of the big man – and his mistrust of the bard, in his unwillingness to approach and the silence that he held still. Was he another that Jigano had attacked in his blight-ridden rage during Deepfrost? The bard didn’t know, but even without the blight he would have felt a cold wash of loneliness at the way the wind blew. With the blight the wind was bitter indeed, sinking sharp fangs into his wounded heart and whispering wicked reminders that all that he was doing was futile, fleeting, hopeless, doomed. He stood alone, as he so often did, and why was he even surprised by that anymore? Had Deimos once more come to take over what the bard had begun? Bringing enough backup to outnumber Jigano after the Attuned had defeated him in combat in the Cloisters? Dark thoughts that tightened his expression as he looked over the two men and the woman who had accompanied the Sword.
To hell with them all, if that was the case. Rory had entrusted this task to him, and he wouldn’t let his mate down.
”We’ll be building the perch a little differently this year,” he said, his voice not merely cool but cold as he turned away from the trio and began walking towards the Woodlands. ”Stronger. But that means bigger post trees, and more of them. Let’s spread out when we reach the Woods – close enough to yell for help, or if you find a likely-looking tree that we can use. We’re going to need three this year – two supports and the crossbeam.” Five might have been better, but with only four people they were going to have enough trouble with just three. ”As big as you think we can drag back to the Sanctuary between us,” he added without glancing back.
He knew he couldn’t do this on his own… but, gods least fortunate, he wished he’d had at least one friend he could trust to have his back join him on this venture heading into the woods with sharp implements.
They reached the Woods quickly enough, and Jigano motioned for themerry band of would-be woodcutters to spread out and start their search for the perfect post trees.
Blight-gano has led you into the Woods and suggested you spread out - surely for no nefarious purpose! What sort of trees do you find that might work?
No posting order this round!
Well, that wasn’t quite true, but it was the truth as he knew it. An eagle in the snow might have flickered hazily on the jagged edges of his first flash of Deepfrost lucidity, but Deimos was a mage, not an Attuned, of course.
But Deimos had to have seen his name on the bottom of the notice that had been posted, and yet he had come anyways to help. Maybe he had come to help Rory rather than Jigano… but he was here now, and he hadn’t turned around and left yet. Composing himself against the burn of vicious words that thrummed in the back of his throat, Jigano gave the big man a careful nod. ”Deimos,” he greeted back, cool but courteous and at least momentarily in control of his worst impulses.
Ah, and yet the Sword did not arrive alone, nor in the company that Jigano expected. Not Amalia but a different woman walked at his side, petite and deadly-beautiful as she prowled across the snowy ground. The touch she gave – that he accepted – was warning enough of where she stood if lines would be drawn. Deimos was not, in Jigano’s experience, the type for casual touch in the way that Sam or Amalia could be. Was this, then, yet another Helovian refugee, arrived when the blight had reduced him to less than a beast? Her smile was bright as knives in sunlight, and a healthier bard would have relished the testing of rapier wits and genteel greetings. Alas, Jigano was far from at his best, though the offered hand did bring the smallest quirk of a smile to his lips as he gave an apologetic shake of his head. ”No offense meant, Hotaru , but given the blight still in my blood I’ll have to shake your hand another day.” At least he managed a modicum of courtesy to accompany his almost painful bluntness. ”But I am indeed Jigano…”
He trailed off as
To hell with them all, if that was the case. Rory had entrusted this task to him, and he wouldn’t let his mate down.
”We’ll be building the perch a little differently this year,” he said, his voice not merely cool but cold as he turned away from the trio and began walking towards the Woodlands. ”Stronger. But that means bigger post trees, and more of them. Let’s spread out when we reach the Woods – close enough to yell for help, or if you find a likely-looking tree that we can use. We’re going to need three this year – two supports and the crossbeam.” Five might have been better, but with only four people they were going to have enough trouble with just three. ”As big as you think we can drag back to the Sanctuary between us,” he added without glancing back.
He knew he couldn’t do this on his own… but, gods least fortunate, he wished he’d had at least one friend he could trust to have his back join him on this venture heading into the woods with sharp implements.
They reached the Woods quickly enough, and Jigano motioned for the
Blight-gano has led you into the Woods and suggested you spread out - surely for no nefarious purpose! What sort of trees do you find that might work?
