Hands full of gifts when he had only come to offer an apology and try to start smoothing things out between them, Jigano still felt too awkward to sit when Deimos remained standing. He settled instead for leaning comfortably against the table, hiding a smile as the General denied his artistry with a single word and an eloquent snort. Perhaps he didn't see it as such, but the little personal touches that he added to each creation were not crudely done. They were painstakingly visualized and imprinted with care, elegant ornaments that replaced the simpler names that he might have carved upon his conjurations instead.
If he didn't want to see it, though, the bard was hardly going to be the one to convince him of the talents he displayed and then denied. So he simply nodded, lips quirking a little at the mention of swords. "A straightforward means of dealing with problems," he agreed. "There is much to be said for the honesty and directness of it." He had preferred magic to the blade, but for those times when magic failed he had still learned the nuances of the rapier so that he could help his companions when the time came to fight. He was not a warrior-born like Deimos seemed to be - sprung from his mother's womb fully-formed with a sword in one hand and a stoic expression beneath the beard on his newborn face, no doubt, simply a tinier version of the man now standing beside him (it was impossible to imagine Deimos as anything else, in the bard's experience with the General) - but he had spent half his life learning his chosen blade, once that took advantage of his speed while relying less heavily on his lacking strength.
If he didn't want to see it, though, the bard was hardly going to be the one to convince him of the talents he displayed and then denied. So he simply nodded, lips quirking a little at the mention of swords. "A straightforward means of dealing with problems," he agreed. "There is much to be said for the honesty and directness of it." He had preferred magic to the blade, but for those times when magic failed he had still learned the nuances of the rapier so that he could help his companions when the time came to fight. He was not a warrior-born like Deimos seemed to be - sprung from his mother's womb fully-formed with a sword in one hand and a stoic expression beneath the beard on his newborn face, no doubt, simply a tinier version of the man now standing beside him (it was impossible to imagine Deimos as anything else, in the bard's experience with the General) - but he had spent half his life learning his chosen blade, once that took advantage of his speed while relying less heavily on his lacking strength.
