Jigano nodded slowly at what she meant, not so hardened after only a year and a half to the miracles that were comparatively common on Caido as to take them for granted. "The gods... each can be fickle, in their own ways," he agreed. "You never know who will answer, and whether they will be happy to see you... even if they seemed to like you before." His first meeting with Safrin had gone well, after all. And yet, the second time he'd seen the goddess she had been as cold and distant as the moon, and just as pitiless. Why she hated him so much more than any other he didn't know, but he was afraid anything he did to try and mend that bridge would only make things worse. Gods did not seem particularly... flexible, in their thinking. That's what they had mortals for.
He smiled, expression lightening at his friend's laughter, and the sight of her in the moonlight with a yellow rose in her hair and a lily in her hands. She was spring's wayward daughter, come home a bit late but home at last - and that's what mattered most. "In reverse chronological order, then?" he teased gently. "Very well. The blight was an unnatural sickness that sprung up in the Greatwood shortly after the barrier fell and we began to explore there. It started with plants, turning them black and twisted, killing and changing them and wounding the Wood itself. Next it began to affect animals, changing them as well, blackening their blood and spit, making them aggressive, vicious, and cruel... and then it began to do the same to Fae and humans, too. Anyone who wasn't Ascended could be affected. The old gods said only that they had never seen such a disease before, but warned that at the rate it was spreading the Greatwood would be dead and gone within a year. The Voice... was notably silent, though her Ascended vociferously defended her and insisted she had nothing to do with it. At first." He grew silent for a moment, a flicker of pain passing over his expression as he remembered his argument with Sam and the first real cracks that had begin to show in their friendship. "Myself and many others were... infected with it. By the time the snows began to fall we were... little more than rabid animals. I have few memories of that time... a blessing, in some cases, I think. It had been a slow descent to that point, but a... a painful one, given how our - my - temper too-often got the better of me, and I was drawn into lashing out at those who I held most dear. We were cold all the time, and the world seemed to lack color, joy... anything good. All that mattered was tearing it down and making others hurt the way I - we - did." He grew silent a moment, lost in the bleak memory of that nightmarish time. When he raised his head again his eyes were a little more distant, a little harder, though it was not directed at Maea.
"As it turns out, it was the Voice who had caused the Blight. She claimed it was an accident, but she did nothing to fix the problem. Since her Ascended were immune, perhaps she hoped that the disease would drive those desperate to avoid it into her shrines to be turned." He turned his head to look out towards the Greatwood, closing his eyes and tilting his head to catch a warming breeze that promised summer's return as it momentarily blew fresh, clean air over them and ruffled their pale hair. "Or perhaps she hoped that it would remove the Fae as a barrier to her children. Either way, it was the Ascended who had spread the plague unknowingly as they tromped through the Fae's woods. And it was Vi and Rae who created a cure. Special roses that grew in the middle of Deepfrost, with crimson petals and golden thorns. When they pricked the Blighted we regained a measure of awareness again... for a time. But it was Arduinna, a Wild Fae of great power, who in the end sacrificed herself to end the blight. The Roses drew the blight from the land and people, and Arduinna gathered it into herself. Now she kneels forever in a shrine in the Wildwood, a blackened statue containing the darkness, a guardian against its return."
He bowed his head in her memory, grateful beyond words for what she'd done, and when he looked at Maea again there was a crooked smile upon his face. "Someone among the Ascended - my guess is Sam, though it could have been another - tried to put up an anonymous letter on the Notice Board a little while ago, claiming that the Voice had fixed the Blight. It's a nice little piece of revisionist history, but those who lived through it know the truth. Now... portals next? Or Zariah?" he asked, a slightly teasing note to his voice though he looked happy to continue. No one would ever accuse him of not appreciating the sound of his own voice!
He smiled, expression lightening at his friend's laughter, and the sight of her in the moonlight with a yellow rose in her hair and a lily in her hands. She was spring's wayward daughter, come home a bit late but home at last - and that's what mattered most. "In reverse chronological order, then?" he teased gently. "Very well. The blight was an unnatural sickness that sprung up in the Greatwood shortly after the barrier fell and we began to explore there. It started with plants, turning them black and twisted, killing and changing them and wounding the Wood itself. Next it began to affect animals, changing them as well, blackening their blood and spit, making them aggressive, vicious, and cruel... and then it began to do the same to Fae and humans, too. Anyone who wasn't Ascended could be affected. The old gods said only that they had never seen such a disease before, but warned that at the rate it was spreading the Greatwood would be dead and gone within a year. The Voice... was notably silent, though her Ascended vociferously defended her and insisted she had nothing to do with it. At first." He grew silent for a moment, a flicker of pain passing over his expression as he remembered his argument with Sam and the first real cracks that had begin to show in their friendship. "Myself and many others were... infected with it. By the time the snows began to fall we were... little more than rabid animals. I have few memories of that time... a blessing, in some cases, I think. It had been a slow descent to that point, but a... a painful one, given how our - my - temper too-often got the better of me, and I was drawn into lashing out at those who I held most dear. We were cold all the time, and the world seemed to lack color, joy... anything good. All that mattered was tearing it down and making others hurt the way I - we - did." He grew silent a moment, lost in the bleak memory of that nightmarish time. When he raised his head again his eyes were a little more distant, a little harder, though it was not directed at Maea.
"As it turns out, it was the Voice who had caused the Blight. She claimed it was an accident, but she did nothing to fix the problem. Since her Ascended were immune, perhaps she hoped that the disease would drive those desperate to avoid it into her shrines to be turned." He turned his head to look out towards the Greatwood, closing his eyes and tilting his head to catch a warming breeze that promised summer's return as it momentarily blew fresh, clean air over them and ruffled their pale hair. "Or perhaps she hoped that it would remove the Fae as a barrier to her children. Either way, it was the Ascended who had spread the plague unknowingly as they tromped through the Fae's woods. And it was Vi and Rae who created a cure. Special roses that grew in the middle of Deepfrost, with crimson petals and golden thorns. When they pricked the Blighted we regained a measure of awareness again... for a time. But it was Arduinna, a Wild Fae of great power, who in the end sacrificed herself to end the blight. The Roses drew the blight from the land and people, and Arduinna gathered it into herself. Now she kneels forever in a shrine in the Wildwood, a blackened statue containing the darkness, a guardian against its return."
He bowed his head in her memory, grateful beyond words for what she'd done, and when he looked at Maea again there was a crooked smile upon his face. "Someone among the Ascended - my guess is Sam, though it could have been another - tried to put up an anonymous letter on the Notice Board a little while ago, claiming that the Voice had fixed the Blight. It's a nice little piece of revisionist history, but those who lived through it know the truth. Now... portals next? Or Zariah?" he asked, a slightly teasing note to his voice though he looked happy to continue. No one would ever accuse him of not appreciating the sound of his own voice!
