”Who was it you’re looking for? I might be able to relay some news.” The offer comes automatically, though I sincerely doubt we know anyone in common. I would have heard if any of my close friends or family had been in contact with the grounders, and the ones who I had heard of exploring weren’t exactly close to me.
I’m very quickly distracted anyway, because Isuma leaps and lands gently on my shoulders, pulling a noise that is both surprise and delight from my lips. I reach up carefully to stroke her feathery head, not wanting to disturb her exploration of my shoulders too much. ”I’m very glad you came to see me as well.” Though I am mostly glad for the bundle of fur and feathers on my head right now. I don’t need to say that part out loud, of course, I’m not trying to be rude here.
I am glad my admission is met with good nature, with appreciation, as it could very well have gone a dozen other ways. ”Loreseekers?” I repeat, my curiosity piqued, as I’m sure it was meant to be. ”Like story collectors? Or... something else?” I didn’t know such a tradition existed among the people of the Hollowed grounds, though I suppose, locked away as they were, all there is to do is collect stories. Unless, of course, I’m wrong about the purpose of the group. Maybe I should wait for Jiganos clarification before I start making up my own stories in my head. The serious turn to the conversation stops my smile as easily as my companions though, and I shrug lightly, again careful of the creature on me. ”I suppose you’re all just... normal folk.” I try to press another smile to my lips, tighter than my last. ”It’s good to hear you’re not all murdered then, though it’s a shame they’re the ones who yell the loudest for you. I’m looking forward to meeting some of the nicer ones though. Like you.”
My smile grows when Jigano asks after Longnight, esse coming back to me. ”The trees protect us. As they always have. And I’m sure, as they always will. They love us, you know.” I’m... maaaaaybe proselytizing here, but it’s an old habit, and an older belief I hold. ”I heard that monsters made their way into the woods, but only shallowly. I would assume you all bore the brunt of their hunger.” There is a twist of pity in my voice there, no matter how hard I try to keep it out, and I hope the silver headed man doesn’t take too much offence to it. It’s not as if I’m trying to rub anything in.
Tarasha
They are neither pink nor pale;
And they will never be all mine;
|
