Jigano stayed silent on the plan, confused but sensing that now was not the time to offer criticism for once. Given how zealously the Ascended he knew seemed to follow the Voice he suspected they would just turn around and give the souls right back, and would be more angry at Loren for it... but that was a talk for another time.
Besides, being told that he would fail no matter what he did struck a deep, wounded chord within the bard who already struggled with the depth of his many failures, but the cry of pain within Loren's tone kept him from flinching as he rose up beneath the goose with strong, sure strokes of his wings, staying close enough to catch his friend should he falter. He let Loren speak, let the emotions flow and take the summoner where they would, and he simply flew and listened, letting the Launceleyn let some of that bottled up pain out for a moment.
A far too brief moment. He was Loren's shadow, flying just beneath him wherever grey-feathered wings took them, whether flying blind or with purpose, descending or holding steady in the distance-eating glide both of their bodies were capable of. He accepted the other man's vulnerability, feeling the echoes of similarity in his own twisted martyr complex and fear of failure; the despair that could overwhelm and drown a man after too many tragedies and good intentions that had backfired in every way possible.
He had been there before, several times within the past year. Then, there had been Amalia and Rory to catch him when he faltered and help him put the pieces back together again. He didn't know if he could help Loren in such way - not if the Launceleyn didn't want to be helped - but he had changed too much in the past year to simply let the other man be.
You can no more stop trying to help people, to care for them, than you can stop breathing, he said thoughtfully after a time of contemplative silence. It would kill the man that you are just as surely. And you have done too much to be your own soul to give up now and become just another Zariah Launceleyn with better looks. Silver wings beat as he surged ahead for a moment so he could snake his sinuous neck over his shoulder to look at the goose. Besides. If you try and fail to protect the people you care about, at least you did try. How much worse the guilt you would feel if you didn't try at all... and they were killed or injured anyways?
He snorted and righted himself again as he let his speed slow, drifting back beneath his friend once more, letting the affection he had begun to feel for his friend fill the bond. Also, for all that you've lived through, for all your pain and trauma and experience... you're still growing in power and wisdom and cleverness, Loren Launceleyn. Do not sell your future self so short before you've even met him yet. Mourn and rage for what you cannot change. I cannot take your guilt from you. But I will be here when you're ready to give the world another chance.
Besides, being told that he would fail no matter what he did struck a deep, wounded chord within the bard who already struggled with the depth of his many failures, but the cry of pain within Loren's tone kept him from flinching as he rose up beneath the goose with strong, sure strokes of his wings, staying close enough to catch his friend should he falter. He let Loren speak, let the emotions flow and take the summoner where they would, and he simply flew and listened, letting the Launceleyn let some of that bottled up pain out for a moment.
A far too brief moment. He was Loren's shadow, flying just beneath him wherever grey-feathered wings took them, whether flying blind or with purpose, descending or holding steady in the distance-eating glide both of their bodies were capable of. He accepted the other man's vulnerability, feeling the echoes of similarity in his own twisted martyr complex and fear of failure; the despair that could overwhelm and drown a man after too many tragedies and good intentions that had backfired in every way possible.
He had been there before, several times within the past year. Then, there had been Amalia and Rory to catch him when he faltered and help him put the pieces back together again. He didn't know if he could help Loren in such way - not if the Launceleyn didn't want to be helped - but he had changed too much in the past year to simply let the other man be.
You can no more stop trying to help people, to care for them, than you can stop breathing, he said thoughtfully after a time of contemplative silence. It would kill the man that you are just as surely. And you have done too much to be your own soul to give up now and become just another Zariah Launceleyn with better looks. Silver wings beat as he surged ahead for a moment so he could snake his sinuous neck over his shoulder to look at the goose. Besides. If you try and fail to protect the people you care about, at least you did try. How much worse the guilt you would feel if you didn't try at all... and they were killed or injured anyways?
He snorted and righted himself again as he let his speed slow, drifting back beneath his friend once more, letting the affection he had begun to feel for his friend fill the bond. Also, for all that you've lived through, for all your pain and trauma and experience... you're still growing in power and wisdom and cleverness, Loren Launceleyn. Do not sell your future self so short before you've even met him yet. Mourn and rage for what you cannot change. I cannot take your guilt from you. But I will be here when you're ready to give the world another chance.
