”Did she tell you that, or is that another excuse you're making for her?” Jigano asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. The blight made him less patient, but also more honest; in better times he might have tried to soften the words, to hide the bitterness and the pain he felt at what was seeming more and more like Sam’s betrayal of his unAscended friends in favor of his goddess, no matter the words he used to try and pretend otherwise.
Actions spoke louder than words, after all, but an apology still would have been nice. Sam might have hurt him by accident, but the pain, the weakness, the fear and anger, losing his mind and hurting his friends under the blight’s control… those were very real. The bookmaker had contributed to putting Jigano through that nightmare, one of the worst he could have ever imagined, and all the redhead had done was defend the Voice’s – and by extension, his own – part in it.
And it hurt.
”Bastien followed Safrin and Frey at one point too,” the bard returned, some of the sharpness still in his voice, though it was giving way to despair, for he knew he could not change his friend's mind by now if he hadn't already. ”He followed whoever gave him the shiniest baubles and sweetest words. And as you have said, the Voice’s tongue practically drips with honey for her tools. For all we know he is still following the Voice’s orders, they’re just different from the ones she gives you.” Sam was strong and could turn invisible; if she could command his loyalty to overcome his natural timidity there was a great deal of damage she could convince him to do alongside Wessex. Despite his physique, Bastien’s talents seemed to lie elsewhere, however. Jigano wasn’t sure what the artist’s abilities entailed, but from what he knew and had heard of the man he suspected it had more to do with manipulation than brute force. He seemed more likely to be the Voice’s PR man, rather than her bruiser.
He pushed snow moss into place with shaking fingers, trying not to dwell on whose fault those tremors were. Trying to focus on all the good things Sam had done for him, that they had done together. He wanted to save his friend.
But… his friend did not want to be saved, and Jigano exhaled a shaky sigh. ”That you’re Ascended? No Sam, that part doesn’t bother me. It’s this unhealthy devotion to a goddess who treats you like a lapdog and uses you like a tool that bothers me. I do not know if the Old Gods wouldn’t help, if given the opportunity… from what I have heard of Mort, at least, I think he would be willing to try, even if Safrin and Vi wouldn’t. But they can’t or won’t do so with someone unwilling.” As only made sense with the faith and divinity he was familiar with. ”And I never said it would be easy.” Still… still. He wanted to find a way to ask.
He had to, for the sake of their friendship. Sam had changed his mind once before. He could do so again, and when he did Jigano wanted to have an answer ready for him.
Actions spoke louder than words, after all, but an apology still would have been nice. Sam might have hurt him by accident, but the pain, the weakness, the fear and anger, losing his mind and hurting his friends under the blight’s control… those were very real. The bookmaker had contributed to putting Jigano through that nightmare, one of the worst he could have ever imagined, and all the redhead had done was defend the Voice’s – and by extension, his own – part in it.
And it hurt.
”Bastien followed Safrin and Frey at one point too,” the bard returned, some of the sharpness still in his voice, though it was giving way to despair, for he knew he could not change his friend's mind by now if he hadn't already. ”He followed whoever gave him the shiniest baubles and sweetest words. And as you have said, the Voice’s tongue practically drips with honey for her tools. For all we know he is still following the Voice’s orders, they’re just different from the ones she gives you.” Sam was strong and could turn invisible; if she could command his loyalty to overcome his natural timidity there was a great deal of damage she could convince him to do alongside Wessex. Despite his physique, Bastien’s talents seemed to lie elsewhere, however. Jigano wasn’t sure what the artist’s abilities entailed, but from what he knew and had heard of the man he suspected it had more to do with manipulation than brute force. He seemed more likely to be the Voice’s PR man, rather than her bruiser.
He pushed snow moss into place with shaking fingers, trying not to dwell on whose fault those tremors were. Trying to focus on all the good things Sam had done for him, that they had done together. He wanted to save his friend.
But… his friend did not want to be saved, and Jigano exhaled a shaky sigh. ”That you’re Ascended? No Sam, that part doesn’t bother me. It’s this unhealthy devotion to a goddess who treats you like a lapdog and uses you like a tool that bothers me. I do not know if the Old Gods wouldn’t help, if given the opportunity… from what I have heard of Mort, at least, I think he would be willing to try, even if Safrin and Vi wouldn’t. But they can’t or won’t do so with someone unwilling.” As only made sense with the faith and divinity he was familiar with. ”And I never said it would be easy.” Still… still. He wanted to find a way to ask.
He had to, for the sake of their friendship. Sam had changed his mind once before. He could do so again, and when he did Jigano wanted to have an answer ready for him.
