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 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.”
