He was glad that Rance took a seat without it being suggested. Somehow 'you might want to sit down for this' never really prepared anyone for the soul-shaking truth. Oh, when they were human to begin with it hardly bore mentioning, but for those like him, and Caiside, and Cera, and now Rance... It was like having one of the pillars of reality pulled out from underneath them.
Jigano could see his guest's discomfort and unhappiness, but he had yet to find a way to soften the blow. He could have left it, he supposed... and if Rance hadn't followed up on his deliberate phrasing earlier he would have. A question deserved an answer, however, and this wasn't a truth that could be hidden forever, not when the man would eventually learn of it one way or another, either through his own familiarity with his body or from another.
Blue eyes met blue, and the bard nodded slowly. "The Voice," he confirmed. "She was once a mortal human woman, that much we know. Somehow she acquired enough power, enough magic, enough technology and knowledge... enough to ascend to godhood in her own right. She's a... tinkerer. A twister of other's creations." He sighed, turning to pour the tea into two sturdy mugs. "Suffice to say, the Old Gods of this place didn't much care for that. They locked her and her followers in that 'dome,' a barrier built of the Voice's own strength and turned against her. So... when she couldn't break the prison of her own making, and when her followers weren't enough to do it in her stead, she sought help... elsewhere."
He served the tea, along with a small plate of scones and fresh apples beside late-season berries and a single, slightly bruised pear. "Not that any of us knew it when we first arrived. All we knew was that we were trapped, and our friends among the Naturals were trapped, and it didn't seem fair to 'punish' the descendants of those who had supported her when most of them were innocent." And how very wrong things had all gone from there, but that was perhaps more history lesson than the raven man needed at the moment. "What of the gods of your world? Did they take an active role, or were they more taken on faith? Or did you have any at all?" Not everyone did, strange as the thought still was to the man who had been an Oracle and channeled divine magic at will, once upon a time.
Rance didn’t miss the unhappiness in Jigano’s voice and expression, even thought his anger prevented him from really acknowledging it. Later, when he was less furious, he might even thank him for not sugar-coating the truth. In that moment, it was all he could do to sit still and quiet, seething, but still intent on everything Jigano was saying. His fists loosened and clenched, a flexing of curled fingers against his palms, as if working talons he didn’t currently have against a branch.
The knowledge that the Voice had once been human didn’t improve his mood, but it couldn’t worsen it. His lip curled up in a sneer and let out a scoffing huff. What she had once been mattered little compared to what hard her actions and creations had done after she had achieved divinity. Pulling innocents — humans and non-human folk alike — into a strange world for the sake of her own selfish ambitions and because the older gods hadn’t like a new upstart and put her in her room.
And people wondered why he respected so few deities….
“I would have been right with you,” Rance commiserated, voice rough and growly. “The whole situation sounds like bullshit for all the mortals trapped in there and it stinks to the underworld and back.” He sighed and finally uncurled his fingers, wrapping one hand around one of the mugs with more care than he gave to his own hands. He too a careful sip, attempting to let the heat relax him a bit while Jigano asked about the gods Rance had left behind.
“Oh, we have gods, though they’re half myth for humans.” He snorted mirthlessly and tapped his fingers against the side of his mug. “The Hidden have members who are centuries old and have seen the miracles or Great Acts in person. Terregris turning a camp of cannibals into a smoking crater. Mythara commanding a hillside make itself into a throne for the Sidhe king. There’s plenty of records on both sides, but the human ones read like more like bedtime stories.” He looked down at his mug, bringing his other hand over toe wrap both around it. “Other than those big, dramatic shows, I guess it’s mostly on faith. I never much cared either way, but everyone prays for a little luck from Gan and has a little shrine to the Ghost Queen to honor their dead.”
Rance made no attempt to hide his rage and Jigano couldn't blame him for it. All he could do was offer the knowledge that had been requested, and hope the raven wasn't the type to blame the messenger. Outwardly the bard was calm and collected as he set the tea beside the other man and took his own seat so they could talk on the same level, but inwardly he was wary, waiting to see if Rance would explode at him or turn his anger elsewhere.
Commiseration was unexpected but appreciated, and Jigano nodded as he warmed his hands on his own mug. "There was no right answer," he agreed quietly. "We assume the Old Gods made a difficult choice, forced by circumstance to use a hammer rather than a scalpel, but in truth... we don't know the specifics. What we do know is that they locked their heralds, lesser gods of their own substance and prior creation, in the barrier as well, to aid and succor the mortals... and to keep the Voice from escaping."
He listened with open fascination, and a flickered glance and silent request sent Isuma chirruping agreement and fluttering back to the table to nudge the quill over onto a clean piece of paper. He urged it to begin writing, and he channeled Rance's words through his ears and to the magical quill, which wrote down the raven's gods for later inventory and cross-checking against the journals of previous Outlanders. When the new Outlander finished Jigano sat back, smiling ruefully as the Quill paused and then drifted down to rest again.
"The Old Gods are like that, here. Vi, Mort, and Rae. They intervene, but rarely. Those heralds I mentioned, though? You're bound to meet one or another of them sooner or later. They tend to take a more personal interest in prayers. Not every prayer, thankfully, but far more than I could have dreamed of two years ago. Your Ghost Queen, in fact, sounds a little like Ludo... that's Mort's herald. Ludo guides the souls of the dead to Mort's domain, and this is its season, so to speak. In a few weeks we'll have a Festival of Lights in its honor, and to honor the memories of our dead." He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of sadness passing over his face at just how many dead he had to count this year. "We all fashion lanterns in honor of those who have passed - Outlander, Natural, it doesn't matter. You can honor family and friends from your world, too. Then, at the Festival, we hang them and hold a mass memorial for them all... and Ludo will chose one lantern among the many. For that one person, they are allowed to see the spirits of their loved ones again for a brief time." He smiled sadly, sipping his own tea.
"I need to make mine still for this year, since there have been more to add since last year's Festival."
Talking about his own world was unexpectedly soothing, though in the sense that his temper was cooling from a blaze to crackling embers. Rance noted the quill lifting and writing, but in passing. After what he’d seen so far, a pen writing by enchantment seemed as mundane as any magic he might seen back home. Though he was starting to realize that he might not be as knowledgeable about that as he’d once assumed, considering how many acts of magic had shocked him stupid since his arrival. His lingering anger helped keep him focused on what he was saying instead of getting distracted once again.
Then Jigano spoke of the Old Gods and their heralds, and Rance found his anger cooling even further, replaced by the curiosity that never truly left. Red brows arched on hearing that prayers were personally answered, something he’d certainly never heard of happening on his own world. And hearing Ludo compared to the Ghost Queen had him sitting up a bit straighter.
“We have a similar celebration for the Ghost Queen, though it’s in the dead of winter. Lightin’ candles for those who’ve passed, so they can know they haven’t been forgotten and decorating the Queen’s shrine to thank her for keepin’ their souls safe.” He’d celebrated every year with his family, even if he’d been away from them for months. With a pang, he winced, realizing he would miss the celebration this year and, probably, every year from then on. “This Festival of Lights isn’t my holiday, but… do you mind if I join you?”
Again the quill rose as Rance began to speak, Jigano listening intently to record the lore of another world as part of his collection of Outlander realms. He nodded in familiarity with the reason for lighting candles in winter, finding a certain soothing reassurance in the thought. Winter had been a time of death and reflection on his world, too, when the snows made travel more difficult and the farmers turned their attention to mending and making for the year ahead. Of course, in the town of blacksmiths, where the eponymous Torch burned day and night regardless of season, winter was as much a time of work as any other.
"I'd be honored," Jigano agreed solemnly, blue eyes compassionate as he held his tea mug and sipped at the flavorful brew. "Some find it cathartic to mourn their old lives and the people they won't see again... but others take solace in knowing their families and friends live on without them back on their homeworld. Still, you might make a lantern for someone you lost on your world; a grandparent or friend who died, for instance. You can even make it more abstract, if you wish. A lantern for your old life, as you begin a new one here on Caido." He gave the raven a small smile as he gestured back to the large table. "When we finish our tea I can get together some provisions for it. Paper we have in plenty already, but if there are other bits and pieces you'd like, you need only ask."
He didn’t know Jigano well enough to say who he would burn a candle — make a lantern — for, but he was grateful for the chance to do something to reflect on the home he’d been ripped from. Anger was finally melting from his expression as Jigano led the conversation away from the upsetting changes in Rance’s life and toward topics that instead teased his thirst for knowledge. The idea of mourning his the loss of part of himself wouldn’t have even occurred to him without Jigano mentioning it and it was a grim enough concept that it had his gaze turning downward again, looking at his barely touched tea.
“I wouldn’t know what ‘bits and pieces’ to look for. Never made a lantern, paper or glass.” Now he took a long drink, using the action to force himself to raise his head instead of letting it fall to the table like a part of him desperately wished for. Putting the mug down, he gave Jigano a small, tired smile. “Have to admit… I’m tryin’ to see this as just another town on the road, but it isn’t workin’ very well.”
It was a lot to take in, Jigano knew. More than anyone should ever have to adapt to, and yet so many of them did. Those that didn't... well. Caido was not a forgiving world, but Rance seemed to be a survivor and his actions on the hunt showed a man capable of the sort of flexibility and resilience that this world required. "I can help with that, at least," Jigano offered. "I ran a lantern-making session last year, for all comers. It'll be easier just teaching one at a time." Despite the grim context he smiled back and the expression turned sympathetic as he nodded at the other man's difficulty in adjusting.
"I felt the same, when I arrived," he admitted. "Though I had it easier than most. I was already a wandering bard without a place to call home. My family was dead and most of my friends, too. I had few ties to regret losing, and Caido offered me a chance to start fresh and try to leave my past behind..." He shook his head ruefully as he stood. "With mixed results, at best. But for those who have so much more to lose, coming here is more painful than I can imagine." Heading back to the table he paused to gather a few odds and ends from his office and the shelves, though when he set the gathered supplies down on the polished wood there seemed to be more there than his rummaging would account for.
Sheets of thin paper, both plain and colored, were placed beside slender wire hoops, lightweight wooden lathes, string, and some different-sized squares of thin metal with sockets at the corners. A pot of bookbinding glue and a small set of paint pots for illumination work joined the crafting pile as he looked over to Rance with a welcoming smile. "You don't need to do this if you aren't ready," he offered, a way out if the other man was too weary for such work at the moment. "I have a few new ones to make, though, and you're welcome to join me if you wish, or just sit and enjoy the quiet for a while if not." Sometimes a quiet place to sit and think, with hot tea and a warm fire, was worth more than gold.
Rance nodded in thanks and acknowledgment of his host’s continued offers of aid, even in something that was comparatively less world-view-shattering. His admission about how shaky and uncertain he was came easier thanks to those offers, and Jigano’s own admissions. They might have come from different places, but parts of their journeys weren’t that dissimilar. Those ideas were reinforced again as the fox spoke of his own arrival on Caido and of the past he’d left behind. Rance listened, feeling a tightening in his chest as flickers of what he himself had been pulled away from. “I lived on the road for the most part, too. Spent a lot of time travelin’ between towns, listenin’ to people’s stories, doing to odd job. Met just as many good people as assholes, made friends with both kinds.” His mouth twitched in humor, though both the laugh and the smile faded. He watched Jigano move about gathering materials as he continued, “Always had my family to go back to, though, even if I was sometimes away for months at a stretch. I guess, if there’s one good thing about the way we’re brought here, no one back home’s going to even know I’m gone.” The smile returned briefly, thought it was far from happy. He didn’t know quite how to offer his condolences for what Jigano had lost, or even if he should with how much time had passed. He wasn’t good at sympathizing on the best of days, and that day was far from that.
His eyes flickered over what was laid out on the table, the pieces looking as mysterious as an artist’s tools to him. The smile and another offer from the silver-haired man made Rance’s smile a little more sincere. “I’ll watch for a bit, see how it’s done before I try.” Then, because he was aware enough to realize what ‘a few new ones’ meant in that context, he murmured, “Were you close to them? The ones you’re making lanterns for?”
He listened to the raven's tale, his own lips quirking with agreement at the mention of mixed saints and assholes on the road. Some things the Guild had plenty of - paper, glue, paint - but others required a touch of magic to bring about; fire and earth mixed with creation to pull together the metal hoops and bases; earth and creation for the wooden lathes that would become the supporting bones of a lantern. He kept the use inconspicuous at the moment, hidden as he turned his body to collect other things. Rance didn't seem the type to mind magic in the slightest, but the subtlety wouldn't hurt, and he could always show off later.
"What are they like, your family?" he asked, genuinely curious as he settled himself and looked out over the gathered bones and skin of the unborn lanterns. Holding an image in his mind he reached for one of the sets of hoops first, arranging them from small to medium to large, then back to medium and ending with small, atop one of the round metal circles with its cup of a candle holder in the center. As they spoke he worked swiftly to twist a strong, slender thread down the sides, tying the hoops together from top to bottom, then moving a few inches over and repeating the process from bottom to top, tied into holes in the base so that the whole thing would become a cylinder when allowed to hang.
The question brought a sad smile to the bard's face, but it was mostly a old pain by now. "Yes. This is not a safe world, and there are... well. There are too many deaths each year to make a lantern for each and every one. At the risk of sounding callous, I only make lanterns for those I cared for. This one is for Caiside, a very dear friend I lost last LongNight. On his world he had been a demigod, a great stag with fiery antlers, fathered by a sungod and raised by a smith. He and I had that in common and... well. We hit it off swiftly. He was also one of my guildmates, a Loreseeker with boundless curiosity." More curiosity than common sense, a recurring trait among their kind. It was likely that which had killed him, as it had almost killed Jigano the year before.
Not so long ago, Rance might have been able to unconsciously feel magic being worked. The lack of that sense was one of the reasons why so much of Caido’s magic kept catching him by surprise, though he hadn’t realized it yet. So, since Jigano had quite obviously been prepared for lantern crafting, Rance didn’t question the appearance of such very specific shapes. Especially since he showed such practiced skill assembling them a few moments later.
“The answer to that depends if you extend ‘family’ to the flocks we flew with once I was old enough to keep up. Some were Hidden, some not. We spent just as much time as a bird as we did lookin’ human.” Rance put together images, trying to summarize a part of his life for someone who had no context for the details. “My parents, though… We spent the first ten years of my life in a little house on edge of the forest. Father was a pretty decent carpenter, mother made, found, and traded jewelry. They took turns leaving for days at a time, trading everything they made. They were devoted to each other and me. I can imagine the latter was pretty challengin’ sometimes, I was kind of a brat.” An understatement, probably. Looking back, his parents should have thrown him out of the nest long before he flew off on his own. Thinking about it while watching Jigano work made him think again on how he hadn’t found his craft — his focus — as they had. Unless collecting stories and retelling them counted, but it seemed so much less…. Substantial than the art his parents had made.
Asking Jigano about his own losses might have been a bit intrusive, but he’d learned long ago that he’d never get answers by being overly cautious. Learning about the deaths that had preceded his arrival, even just the fact that they had happened, was good forewarning. No world was truly ‘safe’, but that Jigano had lost so many in what Rance assumed was a brief period of time was a grim reveal. Rance listened with a solemn expression, sipping his tea and finally taking one of the scones to nibble on. A demi-god that turned into a stag raised by a blacksmith sounded like a fireside tale, even compared to the powers of the Nature spirits and oldest Sidhe he’d heard of, but Rance was swiftly learning that he would need to set aside his idea of what was ‘real’ versus ‘fantastical’ on this new world. The last bit made the corner of Rance’s mouth quirk up at the fondness in Jigano’s tone. “Sounds like a good man to know. Not enough people are curious abut the world around them.”
The bard couldn't help but chuckle at the tale of spending as much time in animal form as human, nodding understanding, though his own experience had been different by far. That his parents worked regular trades was a little surprising, though perhaps it shouldn't have been. At least Jigano managed not to grin too broadly at the mention of his raven-mother being a finder and maker of jewelry, not wanting to come off as racist or stereotyping of Rance's people. "No siblings?" he asked curiously, thinking of what he knew of ravens - even if Rance was no more a true raven than Jigano had been a true fox. Somehow, hearing the other man's coarse language it wasn't hard to imagine him being a bit bratty as a child, growing up rough-and-tumble with his chest puffed out and full of pride.
With the frame of the lantern made he began to paste the thin rice paper over it, applying careful lines of glue to the seam. A goldenrod yellow for the first layer, then he began to cut tongues of flame from red paper to glue over the top, licking up from the lantern's base towards its top. "He was. But the Guild here has more of that type than most," the Provost added, pride coloring the old sorrow for his lost friend. "Seekers of knowledge, askers of questions, and collectors of answers. We learn from books, from stories, from songs, from carvings etched in ruins... wherever we can, really. And then we hold what we learn in trust for the community, to help those who need what we have gathered." He slanted a wry grin at the raven man. "And we're always recruiting. As you said, there aren't enough people with that sort of curiosity in the world..." His smile faded to a more sober expression. "And too much curiosity can be a dangerous thing, even more here than on many other worlds."
“Oh, I’ve got a baby sister and brother. Twins. But I only see —” He paused for half a heartbeat then correct himself. “— saw them when I went home for visits.” He hesitated, thinking back on Jigano had revealed about himself already, the turns of the conversation and the talk about death. “I had another sister, eight or nine years ago. But there was an accident and, well.” He rolled a shoulder in a shrug and took a drink of tea. In some ways he was done mourning Morgana’s death, time having dulled memories and the pain of loss. But he would never forget her completely, and always light a candle for her during the Ghost Queen’s festival.
The frame of the lantern had gone together so fast that, even paying attention, Rance know he wouldn’t be able to duplicate it on his own. It was like watching his mother knot threads into delicate necklaces. The conversation about friends lost was easier to follow. Even as sorrow turned to pride and a pitch for the Loreseekers, which keep the amusement in Rance’s expression. Truth be told, he did find the ideals the guild strove for intriguing, especially since it matched up with his own interests. If Jigano hadn’t already given warnings about the dangers of Caido and of indulging in curiosity, Rance might have said it was too good to be true. “I’ve been called a magpie for stories before, though the drunk old bastard didn’t know who he was talking to.” He smirked, setting down his cup completely. “And I will admit, I’ll probably be haunting this place as often as you let me.” It wasn’t a request to join, not was an acceptance of the invitation Jigano hinted at, but it was an opening.
Taking a deep breath, he released it and pushed his chair back, announcing, “I’m ready to try my hand at these things when you’re ready to teach me.”
Lost siblings were unfortunately common among Outlanders. Lost family in general, lost friends and lovers... It didn't make it easier to hear who others would never see again, but Jigano listened with sympathy and let the correction pass without comment. Rance would adapt at his own pace and there was no good that would come from trying to rush it. The sister who had died, though, brought his attention away from his lantern to meet the raven's blue gaze with a solemn nod of acknowledgment. "Condolences," he said simply, considering the foul-mouthed raven didn't seem the type to want to get maudlin with a virtual stranger.
His hands stayed busy while his hears drank in Rance's words, moving forward with the lantern in deft, practiced motions. He remembered, with a pang of bitterness, the previous year when his hands had shaken from the Blight, interfering with his vision for his memorials. This year, at least, things went together smoothly as the flames were applied, a second, smaller set of fiery tongues pasted on in orange and a paler yellow for the final layer. "Related, but not quite the same," the bard grinned, having learned that in his experiments with calling and compelling animals after his raven shift had been discovered. "Anyone is welcome in the Atheneum, if you were wondering. It's open to all, though this guild does tend to try and fix things up and keep it in good order as part of our calling. If you mean haunting the more comfortable Hall down here that has a safely-contained fire and snacks, though..." he trailed off teasingly, a silver brow arched in invitation. "You're welcome to join us, for as long as it suits you. You can leave at any time if you change your mind, but it might give you a bit of a safety net, of sorts, as you're getting your feet under you. A group to call on if you need help, and folks with shared interests if such a thing strikes your fancy."
As Rance came to join him at the table Jigano did use his magic openly, pausing for a moment as he crafted two lightweight stag's antlers from dark wood and attached them to the lantern's handle. Later he would paint the stylized suns on it, but for now he would let the glue dry.
"The square bases might be easier to work with, to start," he suggested, setting the near-finished one aside and pulling one of the metal squares towards himself while pushing a second towards Rance. "We can start by slotting the wooden lathes into the base anchors here, and adding a few drops of glue to keep them firmly seated. Paper sides might be easiest, but you can use thin strips of wood or metal with designs carved or punched through them, too? Or even glass, if you'd like?" He tilted his head, waiting to see what Rance would chose while he demonstrated the glue-and-slot method to make the frame.
Rance appreciated the simple condolences, Jigano having guessed right that he was in no hurry to dwell on it. While it was true that the pain had dwindled over the years, that didn’t make it easier to bring up in casual conversation. Already he had revealed much more about himself than he normally would have with anyone other than friends and family. He nodded in recognition of the other man’s sympathies and gladly moved on from the subject.
The lantern was unlike any he’d ever seen, and it was fascinating to watch, if in the quiet way of an outsider to the craft. Then again, considering the purpose of the lantern, it was more like the morbid beauty of some spirit candles than a festival decoration. Any truly grim thoughts on the matter were tempered by talk of the Atheneum and, finally, an invitation to the Guild itself. That brought a bit more thoughtfulness to Rance’s expression. Jigano made several good points, both on the side of having access to the lovely halls they were currently in, and having friendly acquaintances after having lost everyone he knew. “It does strike my fancy. And you make a very tempting offer. I’ve never been a part of a guild or anything like that. Gaggles of temp farmhands and flocks of ravens do not an organized group make.”
Finally calm enough that he could think about something other than his own misery, curiosity became the louder voice in his head. It helped that thoughts of his lost sister were fresh in his head; this lantern would be for her. If he chose to mourn anyone or anything else, well, time for that later. His eyes widened a bit at Jigano’s open use of magic, though not out of any sort of fear. The man was more like the Sidhe than Rance had realized, for all that he claimed the portals made them human! “Now there’s a neat trick.
He didn’t let his surprise stop him from listening and he watched as Jigano demonstrated the first steps. “Probably paper this time. Maybe I’ll try for somethin’ more permanent later, when I’m less likely to create a mess.” This last he said with wry humor in his voice. He’d never quite picked up his mother’s delicate touch or his father’s skill, but he at least wasn’t clumsy with the glue and lathes.
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