”Of course he’s alive,” Jigano agreed, his Guardian Sphere having reassured him of that much, at least. ”But as for where he is or what shape he’s in, given that he tried to kill himself before he disappeared…” The bard shrugged as he trailed off, having no better answers at the moment. Just because someone was alive didn’t mean they wanted to be. He nodded at Oliver’s vow to start the work with or without the tinkering alchemist. ”Perhaps something you find in that box of scrap metal might help?” Once it was properly sorted it might end up containing only scraps and junk, but there might have been some useful parts or gears tossed in that could be salvaged for another project.
”The Loreseekers do offer reading lessons to those who want them,” he agreed, ”and some do take us up on them. We can’t force lessons on people who don’t particularly want them, though.” His own mate included. His humor turned wry at the young man’s next words, though. ”Oliver, the Atheneum has stood, filled with more books than even an Ascended could read in their lifetime, that are available to anyone and everyone at any time of day or night, since long before the first Outlander arrived on this world. How can books be more accessible than that?” Though the nice thing about the Notice Board was that it was easy for people to read short news posts aloud to their less-literate friends – something that had also happened on more than one occasion for both Rory and Adam - and all it took was one person reading it to start passing the information by word-of-mouth through town. It wasn’t perfect – nothing was – but it usually worked because the messages on it were shorter than full books and therefore easy to pass on verbally.
As they lugged their chosen crates up and back into the light of the Longheat day, Jigano glanced back at his young companion with fond exasperation. ”Of course she’s not doing it out of the goodness of her heart,” he agreed, setting his box down and considering their cargo thoughtfully. He reached for his magic, beginning to draw it together as they continued to talk. ”I’m not sure she even has a heart anymore after what happened in the Spire. But you’re right that it’s for no good purpose. That’s why the Old Gods appointed Guardians of the Portals, to try and stop her from opening any more.” He grunted as the simple cart began to take shape beneath his hands, creation magic mixing with earth to make wooden planks and fire to place metal nails and make a sturdy axle. ”Not that we’ve had much success… But what sort of danger do you think the Ascended are in?”
He stepped back as he finished, the cart small but sturdy enough to make pulling their wares over bumpy rubble much easier. Loading their boxes onto it he tilted his head at the younger man with a brow arched in question. ”Did you want to grab any other crates to take back? We might be able to fit one or two more on here.”
”The Loreseekers do offer reading lessons to those who want them,” he agreed, ”and some do take us up on them. We can’t force lessons on people who don’t particularly want them, though.” His own mate included. His humor turned wry at the young man’s next words, though. ”Oliver, the Atheneum has stood, filled with more books than even an Ascended could read in their lifetime, that are available to anyone and everyone at any time of day or night, since long before the first Outlander arrived on this world. How can books be more accessible than that?” Though the nice thing about the Notice Board was that it was easy for people to read short news posts aloud to their less-literate friends – something that had also happened on more than one occasion for both Rory and Adam - and all it took was one person reading it to start passing the information by word-of-mouth through town. It wasn’t perfect – nothing was – but it usually worked because the messages on it were shorter than full books and therefore easy to pass on verbally.
As they lugged their chosen crates up and back into the light of the Longheat day, Jigano glanced back at his young companion with fond exasperation. ”Of course she’s not doing it out of the goodness of her heart,” he agreed, setting his box down and considering their cargo thoughtfully. He reached for his magic, beginning to draw it together as they continued to talk. ”I’m not sure she even has a heart anymore after what happened in the Spire. But you’re right that it’s for no good purpose. That’s why the Old Gods appointed Guardians of the Portals, to try and stop her from opening any more.” He grunted as the simple cart began to take shape beneath his hands, creation magic mixing with earth to make wooden planks and fire to place metal nails and make a sturdy axle. ”Not that we’ve had much success… But what sort of danger do you think the Ascended are in?”
He stepped back as he finished, the cart small but sturdy enough to make pulling their wares over bumpy rubble much easier. Loading their boxes onto it he tilted his head at the younger man with a brow arched in question. ”Did you want to grab any other crates to take back? We might be able to fit one or two more on here.”
