Great silver wings faltered in their beating as the bald recounting of Aoife's death and Remi's impaling. Rumors... but hearing it from Loren made it real, even if it was third-hand yet again. But then the summoner spoke again, this time of first-hand knowledge, and only the gliding provided by locked wing joints kept the dragon from stumbling from the sky at the news of Remi trying to rip out his own throat. Gods... he breathed, choked by the image Loren's words conjured. His grief must have driven him as mad as Ronin's had, sent him spiraling into a desire to join Aoife in death...
Or perhaps there was something else going on there, something more that he would never understand. Either way a croon of loss reached mournfully across the icy waste below them.
Sharing information was what Loreseekers did, and Jigano sighed as he recovered his balance to continue on. Ronin... tried to destroy it. He must have seen Remi and Aoife or... I don't know. But he was determined to make the gods pay for his loss and he was trying to destroy the Shrine in it. Amalia, Wessex, Sam, Amun... we gathered to try and stop him. Distract him. Get him out and somewhere he could do less harm but... A flicker of despair made it through the bond, grief and guilt and regret that Loren would likely recognize after his own belated destruction of the mud monster. Someone called the Voice, and she struck him down, but he kept going. Then Safrin came and... and he disappeared. The Voice swept the Ascended out somehow and then... it was just Amalia and I. She was... she was hurt badly, Loren. Badly enough that even Healing magic couldn't fix it all. A shudder shook the dragon, a sense of helplessness and targetless anger that he was, over and over again, useless to those he wished most to help.
He flew on in silence for a while, shifting their flight path to head towards an odd, bluish-green spot in the ice to the west. Loren's other question was a good one, an important one, but it was difficult to change mental direction so fast when the previous answer had been so full of emotion that he was still trying to bottle back up.
Longheat... he began tentatively after a while. Longheat is a time of drought and wildfire. There are flinthoppers - grasshopper-like creatures - that can create sparks by rubbing their legs together, which can set the dry fields and woodlands ablaze. But there are bloatbeetles, too, filled with water that can be used to douse small blazes before they grow too large. The Fae have a tradition this time of year, of 'capturing the sun' to appease Safrin and let the long days and short nights remain a while longer, to stave off the return of LongNight. It hadn't worked before, but the goddess had appeared and been appeased, at least.
She was going to need a lot of appeasing this year, from what he'd seen in the Temple.
Or perhaps there was something else going on there, something more that he would never understand. Either way a croon of loss reached mournfully across the icy waste below them.
Sharing information was what Loreseekers did, and Jigano sighed as he recovered his balance to continue on. Ronin... tried to destroy it. He must have seen Remi and Aoife or... I don't know. But he was determined to make the gods pay for his loss and he was trying to destroy the Shrine in it. Amalia, Wessex, Sam, Amun... we gathered to try and stop him. Distract him. Get him out and somewhere he could do less harm but... A flicker of despair made it through the bond, grief and guilt and regret that Loren would likely recognize after his own belated destruction of the mud monster. Someone called the Voice, and she struck him down, but he kept going. Then Safrin came and... and he disappeared. The Voice swept the Ascended out somehow and then... it was just Amalia and I. She was... she was hurt badly, Loren. Badly enough that even Healing magic couldn't fix it all. A shudder shook the dragon, a sense of helplessness and targetless anger that he was, over and over again, useless to those he wished most to help.
He flew on in silence for a while, shifting their flight path to head towards an odd, bluish-green spot in the ice to the west. Loren's other question was a good one, an important one, but it was difficult to change mental direction so fast when the previous answer had been so full of emotion that he was still trying to bottle back up.
Longheat... he began tentatively after a while. Longheat is a time of drought and wildfire. There are flinthoppers - grasshopper-like creatures - that can create sparks by rubbing their legs together, which can set the dry fields and woodlands ablaze. But there are bloatbeetles, too, filled with water that can be used to douse small blazes before they grow too large. The Fae have a tradition this time of year, of 'capturing the sun' to appease Safrin and let the long days and short nights remain a while longer, to stave off the return of LongNight. It hadn't worked before, but the goddess had appeared and been appeased, at least.
She was going to need a lot of appeasing this year, from what he'd seen in the Temple.
