"I... yes. I can't imagine that will be easy," he murmured, still very much shell-shocked. "I won't tell anyone else, of course. This is... quite the unexpected turn of events," he trailed off weakly, unsure of just how he felt in that moment, aside from worried for Amalia. She was already under so much pressure and wounded besides, and for this to happen...
He had to trust that she'd be strong enough to bear the weight of it.
"He punched you right after you said hello?" Jigano asked, recovering from the Wordsworth family secret only to focus on another surprise, this time from someone who had quite possibly broken beneath his grief. Something sounded off about it all... Then again, grief and guilt combined could drive a man mad. The bard pulled himself together enough to arch a brow at Sam's callousness, giving a slight shake of his head. "The Temple was empty when Ronin began his rampage - or at least, it was when I got there. The only people in there were those of us who came running to stop him, and it wasn't as though he didn't try to make us leave." He'd seen little of Ronin in recent seasons, but the Star had been a friend to him and Isuma, and he wasn't so quick to believe the worst of him.
"Remi was the one who brought Aoife to the festival," he continued softly. "Remi was the one who couldn't protect their daughter. Don't say 'no one died' when her death was what caused all this, Sam." He knew that wasn't what Sam meant, but the bookmaker seemed to be glossing over her violent, messy end with a distressing ease. "Remi's been depressed since well before the festival, and it has everything to do with what everyone asks and expects of him here. Or at least, used to. Gods least fortunate... Sam, give them space. All they have left of her is each other. And the only other person who can understand the pain Remi feels right now is Ronin, and vice versa. Can you imagine...?" He sighed, because he couldn't imagine it, the pain of losing a child. "How would you feel if your Nate was killed while you were trying to protect him?" Not the same thing at all, but it was the closest analogy he could come up with on short notice.
He had to trust that she'd be strong enough to bear the weight of it.
"He punched you right after you said hello?" Jigano asked, recovering from the Wordsworth family secret only to focus on another surprise, this time from someone who had quite possibly broken beneath his grief. Something sounded off about it all... Then again, grief and guilt combined could drive a man mad. The bard pulled himself together enough to arch a brow at Sam's callousness, giving a slight shake of his head. "The Temple was empty when Ronin began his rampage - or at least, it was when I got there. The only people in there were those of us who came running to stop him, and it wasn't as though he didn't try to make us leave." He'd seen little of Ronin in recent seasons, but the Star had been a friend to him and Isuma, and he wasn't so quick to believe the worst of him.
"Remi was the one who brought Aoife to the festival," he continued softly. "Remi was the one who couldn't protect their daughter. Don't say 'no one died' when her death was what caused all this, Sam." He knew that wasn't what Sam meant, but the bookmaker seemed to be glossing over her violent, messy end with a distressing ease. "Remi's been depressed since well before the festival, and it has everything to do with what everyone asks and expects of him here. Or at least, used to. Gods least fortunate... Sam, give them space. All they have left of her is each other. And the only other person who can understand the pain Remi feels right now is Ronin, and vice versa. Can you imagine...?" He sighed, because he couldn't imagine it, the pain of losing a child. "How would you feel if your Nate was killed while you were trying to protect him?" Not the same thing at all, but it was the closest analogy he could come up with on short notice.
