Giving Thanks
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#1
Amalia had told him that it was the work of Vi and Rae who brought the Blighted back to sanity. Vi's Roses, those perfect crimson blossoms of vibrant green with golden thorns, had done something to suppress the malady that affected the Greatwood's heart and no few souls from the Hollowed Grounds as well. The sickness was not gone within him, but it was fading and he was home once more with the people he loved, and healing by the day.

He made the pilgrimage on feet still chilled by the blackness in his blood, wrapped in clean, warm clothing and a heavy woolen cloak borrowed from Rory for the day. He held a basket in one shaking hand, his recovered walking staff in the other, and Isuma soaring overhead as the sun peeked through the snow clouds for a few hours, striking blinding sparkles from the snow.

At least the blanket of white lay less thickly beneath the sturdy branches of the Greatwood, and it was easier to make his way once he reached the boundary. It might have been easier still to travel in his horse form, but there was much to look around and study and appreciate the beauty of now that he had the mind and heart to do so once again, and he took his time as he wandered among the trees, steps taking him towards an interesting rock formation, or a bush covered in red berries, or the tracks of a luxere herd that had passed through the night before.

The scent struck him first, painfully familiar and achingly sweet. It drew him onwards to the clearing around the Shrine, and he drew in a shivering breath at the unnatural but gorgeous field of roses that surrounded it. A shaking hand reached tentatively towards a Rose, wondering...

But no. He could sense, somehow, that the flower was not for him, and he rose with a flicker of disappointment that he struggled not to let spark a blightrage. The rage died aborning a moment later as instead his eyes found the statue of a woman - a goddess - who knelt among the Roses. He knew the curl of that black hair and the smoothness of her cheek. No sculptor could have so perfectly captured the Lady of the Wood, and his heart constricted at the sight of her kneeling in eternal prayer. "Oh, Arduinna..." he whispered, heart thudding painfully within his chest.

It was long minutes before he found the strength to move again, picking his way with care through the magical garden of the gods to place his basket at the Shrine and kneel in echo of the Wild Fae he had once sung for. The basket's contents were simple enough: three beeswax candles, one green, one white, one red. These he lit for each of the three Old Gods, and he regretted that he did not have one for the great Lady in her bower. He scattered a handful of seed grain across the altar, a reminder of the life that was merely sleeping beneath the snow. Lastly, he placed a large, almost (but not quite) perfectly round sapphire quartz beside the grain, the stone naturally polished and rounded by the rushing waters of the Stonesong.

"Vi. Rae. ...Arduinna," he added, his voice breaking on the name. For all that she had inspired fear, she had inspired genuine awe and respect as well in the proud-to-a-fault bard. He bowed his head and focused on both the pain and the gratitude that he could feel pain for another again as he struggled to find the words for what he had come to say. "Thank you for what you have done. Thank you for freeing me - us - from the Blight's control. Thank you for your benevolence... and your sacrifice. Thank you for giving me back my heart, and the ones I love. Thank you for all that have done, and all that you do."


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#2


With all that has happened, is happening, and will happen, perhaps it is no surprise the Sage receives no words or signs of acknowledgement.

Or perhaps it is. Who knows.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#3
An answer had not been expected, at least. He had no great boon to ask, no quest to seek blessings for. He had not needed the direct intervention of the gods this time, but had only sought to give thanks where it was due. Too often, he knew, he prayed out of desire or need, seeking knowledge or guidance or something more tangible. Too little did he pray simply to offer gratitude for what he had already received, acknowledging the Powers of Caido for the gifts they gave to more than just him. He was not the only one who was recovering, he knew, but many of those who had also born the weight of that nightmare were dear to him, and his thanks were not just for his own recovery but theirs as well. The Greatwood, too, was a place he would never wish to see sickened and dying in the way that it had become.

He prayed in solitude until the candles burned down to stubs. The shadows were lengthening by then, and he deftly cleaned the wax away but left the other offerings in place. Another time, when his hands were steadier, he would return to offer music to Arduinna, but for this day he simply tidied up around the Shrine and then began making his slow way home again, thoughtful in the silence but taking a core of serenity with him that would last through the night to come.


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