Of course Peter was hit, such a small and delicate little shape to find himself in. And Adam, the rogue who had fallen so deeply and hopefully in love, would never leave his lover behind. Adam, so full of passion, whose temper could rage as powerfully as his confidence, determined to buy reprisal for the loss of his companion and the wounding of his mate... no thought, only action in the highwayman's response, all instinct and impulse in the moment
Until all moments ended, for him and Peter both. Four dead within seconds, entombed for eternity in Halo's ice, and the world lessened for their loss.
Jigano bowed his head, eyes closed against the fresh pain that hearing the unadorned truth struck into his heart. Isuma chirruped worriedly and fluttered to his arms to be held, sensing her companion's grieving and seeking to comfort him as best she could.
It was just as well. The bard flinched at hearing how Coffee had been used. Not left to lie beside his companion but gathered as a component for a ritual already gone to hell. Teeth gritted together, his jaw feathering as he heard how even that cruel necessity hadn't been enough. Or almost not enough. Deimos maneuvering to defend and stay focused on their purpose, to not let the journey and the deaths be entirely for naught. One body among the four brought back to the surface and the light, for however short a time. Jigano could imagine the dragon's rage, flashing eyes and clashing teeth and the lash of icy breath turned against the intruders who had dared its sanctum. No, there would have been no collection of the dead beyond that last, desperate grasp of water magic.
Gods least fortunate, how it must gall the General, the Sword, who had joined the bard in failure after failure to protect the ones they cared for. It felt as if the pride had been ground out of him over the past year, his holier-than-thou fire guttered and burnt out amongst the dead and wounded that littered their past.
He gave Isuma a squeeze and a scritch in her soft, feathery ruff, then set her down and nudged her over to the General. The gryphlet left him reluctantly, but she could see the weight that rested on the big human's shoulders and soon enough her talons rested on Deimos's knee as she stretched up on her hind legs and looked up at him with soulful golden eyes.
"It was enough, then?" he asked, voice strained as he steadied himself. "Four dead, friends lost, and Coffee's heart? Enough sacrifice to satisfy Safrin into consecrating the Temple Shrine again?" It must have been, for there had been a notice on the Temple Board saying just that. And yet. He knew their luck, his and the General's. When was the 'mere' sacrifice of those they cared for ever enough?
Until all moments ended, for him and Peter both. Four dead within seconds, entombed for eternity in Halo's ice, and the world lessened for their loss.
Jigano bowed his head, eyes closed against the fresh pain that hearing the unadorned truth struck into his heart. Isuma chirruped worriedly and fluttered to his arms to be held, sensing her companion's grieving and seeking to comfort him as best she could.
It was just as well. The bard flinched at hearing how Coffee had been used. Not left to lie beside his companion but gathered as a component for a ritual already gone to hell. Teeth gritted together, his jaw feathering as he heard how even that cruel necessity hadn't been enough. Or almost not enough. Deimos maneuvering to defend and stay focused on their purpose, to not let the journey and the deaths be entirely for naught. One body among the four brought back to the surface and the light, for however short a time. Jigano could imagine the dragon's rage, flashing eyes and clashing teeth and the lash of icy breath turned against the intruders who had dared its sanctum. No, there would have been no collection of the dead beyond that last, desperate grasp of water magic.
Gods least fortunate, how it must gall the General, the Sword, who had joined the bard in failure after failure to protect the ones they cared for. It felt as if the pride had been ground out of him over the past year, his holier-than-thou fire guttered and burnt out amongst the dead and wounded that littered their past.
He gave Isuma a squeeze and a scritch in her soft, feathery ruff, then set her down and nudged her over to the General. The gryphlet left him reluctantly, but she could see the weight that rested on the big human's shoulders and soon enough her talons rested on Deimos's knee as she stretched up on her hind legs and looked up at him with soulful golden eyes.
"It was enough, then?" he asked, voice strained as he steadied himself. "Four dead, friends lost, and Coffee's heart? Enough sacrifice to satisfy Safrin into consecrating the Temple Shrine again?" It must have been, for there had been a notice on the Temple Board saying just that. And yet. He knew their luck, his and the General's. When was the 'mere' sacrifice of those they cared for ever enough?
