"That's... a good question," the bard mused, lounging back against a palm tree as he looked out over the Miana Pool as it sparkled in the sun. Somewhere in its depths a green stone sparkled, catching stray light on its rough facets. "If the point of the snow moss and the blackened windows is to hide people's presence from them, then perhaps not? The monster Kiada and I faced last year had physical enough form to be struck by arrows, and the smaller ones were able to throw debris at us. If they know that someone is in a building it seems like it would be easy enough for them to break a window and get inside, even if no doors are willingly opened and all other rules are followed." A mystery, to be sure, but the monsters just didn't know if people were inside, then they might not realize how many had left this year.
"I saw Amalia's," he agreed, the memory a sober one as the Shield had nearly died that night. "It's leaving Rory alone after last year that worries me. They... nearly convinced him to open the door for someone," he admitted softly, as Isuma purred comforting reassurance from her place on Ronin's shoulder. "If I could convince him to come to Torchline for the week, though, I would gladly spend the time outside with you. Maybe I could weave a little nest in your antlers and sleep there in my raven form?" he teased, trying to find a little levity in the dark topic. "Do you need to practice spending time in it?" Most of his shapes had required a bit of trial and error, even with the instincts that they came with.
"I wonder, then, whether or not you will need to prepare the houses still - board up the empty ones, so it looks the same as it usually would during Longnight." All strange, what-if questions, but then that was all they seemed to have when it came to the eerie phenomena around the Hollowed Ground at Deepfrost. His brow furrowed as the bard explained his reasoning, and he smiled in bitter understanding; some simply would not leave their homes. He had been one of them, when Vanya had died.
"And this year, if they convince you both to open the door? If they knock and pretend to be you, while you are out and singing?" he asked, not intending to bring Jigano down. But they were considerations that needed to be made. With a soft snort at the image of a raven nesting in his glowing antlers, Ronin shook his head softly. "I have had plenty of practice, I assure you," he said. "I should be good, when the time comes."
The bard nodded at Ronin's idea. "Something I'm hoping most will do anyways, to discourage animals or squatters from taking advantage while they're gone. But I'll bring it up with the Council as a suggestion... depending on how many people actually take up the offer to spend the season or week away." Depending on whether they were going to Halo or Torchline. If enough left, then that would mean more work for those remaining, but Grounders were used to working hard.
His friend's other point was far more sobering, and Jigano nodded slowly. "That... is something I need to find a way around," he admitted quietly, gaze dropping to his half-eaten fruit. Isuma peeped soft encouragement from where she had draped herself around Ronin's neck, looking back and forth between the two men. "I can ask Isuma to stay with him. She can let him know if what's on the other side of the door is me or not. But... not opening the door at all would be best. If I had a way to walk through closed doors, maybe..." he trailed off thoughtfully, a rueful smile on his lips. "I already owe Ludo for something else it's helping me with. Hopefully it won't grow too tired of my requests. I should finish what I've started first, though."
"I would be surprised if a lot of Grounders didn't jump at the opportunity to get out of town for Longnight," Ronin confessed; whether that was to Halo or otherwise. "Especially the ones who have been through it a few times." If it weren't for this Safrin business, honestly Ronin would have been spending the time lounging on the beach. But fate did not always work out that way.
Taking another bite of breadfruit (it had cooled considerably now, at least), the Hunter reached up to scritch at Isuma's soft feathers, giving a grim sort of smile as if to apologise for planting that seed of worry into Jigano's head. "That's a good precaution at least," he said of the gryphlet. "Perhaps someone else has an item that could do that for this year? Walk through closed doors? Worst case, provided I'm not needed elsewhere, I'll come by the farm to check things are alright." Unlikely given how busy he would be, but still.
"I thought that too, before I talked to Rory about it," Jigano admitted with a sigh. "We're a stubborn lot, Outlanders and Naturals alike. There are plenty who won't use the portals because the Voice made them, and others who don't care about the portals but are more afraid of the unknown beyond them than the familiar terrors in the dark. Most of our Outlanders, especially the newer ones who aren't as attached to the land, should go, at least. And hopefully Naturals with families to consider, small children and such." There would be enough, he hoped, to make a difference in this year's death toll. He had no illusions that they could reduce it to zero, but any reduction at all was worthwhile.
Isuma was far more easily soothed than her companion, the bard facing the serious consideration that Ronin had raised as he mulled over options. The gryphon might not have known what a 'precaution' was, but she recognized 'good' and knew it was aimed at her, and purred contentedly in Ronin's ear as she turned her head to gently nibble his fingers. "I haven't heard of such a thing" Jigano admitted, though his smile turned a little crooked. "Though I suspect it's not the sort of thing that gets advertised. But... thank you. I would very much appreciate you coming by to check on us. Hopefully your light would keep the doorway safe for me to use in a pinch."
He drew in a slow breath, letting it out again as he tilted his head up to the sky and admiring the clear blue of the late afternoon light. "So, how does being back in the government business suit you?" he asked with a curious tilt of his chin, wanting to hear about Ronin's life of late. "And... forgive me if this is sensitive but... I thought I saw a child with you and Remi at the Festival... have you adopted?" It had been a glimpse only, and at a distance, so perhaps the pair had merely been babysitting for a friend.
"Some are better than none," Ronin agreed. "And as someone who is in agreement about those portals, if it weren't for the fact that I have godly orders, I'd probably feel the same way." He smiled ruefully back at Jigano. "And mayhaps look at it as a cumulative effect. Whoever leaves this year will return to tell tales of the other lands, and it won't be unknown any longer. So next year becomes easier again." At least he hoped it would work like that.
Nodding confirmation that he would drop by to check on Rory's farm, Ronin continued to absently scritch Isuma while he finished up his breadfruit, offering another morsel out to the gryphlet. Talk of government and current life was all well and good, but something about the hunter seemed to harden as Jigano brought up Seren, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. "It isn't so bad, now that I'm not king," he muttered. "And no, you weren't mistaken, and we haven't adopted, exactly. Her name is Seren, and she is my daughter. Safrin is her mother." Clipped and factual, he remembered too well that night on the beach, and how he'd wanted to throw himself into the sea.
He suspected that Amalia and Ronin's decisions to avoid the portals was the morally correct one... but it did nothing to stop the Ascended from spreading and opening more portals. Jigano returned his friend's smile, though, tilting his head in acknowledgment and respect of the former-captain's choice. Maybe next year he wouldn't have his hand forced? "I will hope for that as well," he agreed fervently. "And do my part to spread the good word about Torchline's far more pleasant winter weather!" His grin was a little lighter as he stretched luxuriously in the warmth, and Isuma trilled her agreement - at least as long as she was in the shade.
A pulse of agreement slipped through the Attuned bond, instinctive and impulsive, as Jigano nibbled at the last of the treat and considered how much more comfortable he was as part of a Council than as a King. The little girl, though...
It was a good thing he had just finished eating or he might have choked, eyes widening as he looked at Ronin, startled by the revelation. "Gods..." he breathed, managing to swallow back whether he meant the less or more fortunate ones. He caught the chill detachment in his friend's voice and bit his tongue against the other questions that threatened to overflow. "I didn't... have any idea. Are you...? Is she...?" Each time he stopped, and he finally shook his head, slumping back against the tree. "How is Remi taking it?" he settled on finally, a cautious hope that the new Governor's bonds to his husband hadn't been strained to the breaking point so soon after the loss of their first daughter.
"Maybe not too much - I don't know yet how the Torchers are going to feel about all these people flooding onto their beaches for a season," Ronin cautioned with a quiet laugh. The weather might be stellar, but the people of Torchline were a totally different kettle of fish. Ronin knew that the islands spun on a corruption dime, one that his husband was in charge of as of the past few weeks. Best not to piss off the people who had put him there. (At least not right away at least).
But then of course the subject plummeted into one that Ronin swore he was okay with, until it came up and he wasn't again. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared into the Miana Pool, and as Jigano finally found a question to ask, Ronin barked out a laugh. "Everyone asks that," he said. "Remi took it how Remi takes it. We made an agreement together about Seren, and now he just talks about how difficult he's finding it with other people, instead of me." He shrugged.
"Probably not the whole season," Jigano reassured the new Preceptor, grinning at his friend's laugh. "There are livestock to take care of, businesses to run, homes to protect... and all the preparations to help those friends and neighbors who chose to stay. I think you you'll get the main influx the day or two before Remi closes down your side of the portal, but it should only be for two weeks, not three months." They were to stubborn for their own good, the bard knew. Himself included.
The shift in mood was palpable as Jigano recovered from his own shock at hearing what had been happening in the tropical paradise lately - or at least, Ronin's corner of it. The captain's laughter seemed harsh compared to its earlier ease and Jigano winced sympathetically at learning that he'd asked the same question that Ronin was likely sick of answering. "Ah... I'd offer condolences, but I don't know if they're quite... appropriate." It didn't sound like Ronin had asked for this, wanted it, or been given much choice in the matter, if Jigano had to judge from his tone and the anger in his gritted teeth.
Curious as he was, perhaps a change of subject was in order. No point in wasting Ronin's nice nap with all this unhappiness. "We don't have to talk about it, if you dont't want to. I heard that you're a preceptor these days? What goes into the position?" He absolutely wasn't above scouting out how Caido's other governments worked to see if they could improve things in the Grounds.
"That's a relief to hear," Ronin said with a light smile, not having considered that those coming from the Hollowed Grounds would only be arriving for a small amount of time. Hopefully that would make the Torchers a little happier - not that he even knew that they were annoyed, not really. Better to be safe than sorry.
Inhaling deeply and letting out the breath again, he shook his head to Jigano. "No, it's fine, really. I just... it always catches me off guard, when I realise some people aren't aware of her," he said of Seren. "I didn't know about her. I had what I thought was a very acrobatic dream about Safrin, and... well. Here she is." Still, changing the subject wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and his smile softened to something a little less intense as he glanced to the Sage.
"You'd love it," he said. "It's a glorified advisor, really. Over the years I've found myself in a variety of leadership positions, so I've a lot to give when Remi needs to bounce things around."
He was glad to have eased a little worry from Ronin's mind, but talk of Seren brought it all back again and Jigano regretted his curiosity until the other man calmed them both by letting the tension go. Mention of the dream had an brow arching in silent comment, but he was too tactful to voice it, and he simply nodded at how things had worked out. "If Safrin is her mother, then she's... like you, I take it? Or like Kai and Oi'a?" A demigod, even if he didn't use the word outright.
Oddly enough, talking about work was almost more relaxing. Jigano grinned at the description, nodding in agreement that Ronin had a lot of experience and advice to give. It was why they'd made him king, after all. "Do you think it's strange?" he asked curiously, twirling a seed idly in his fingers. "That of the three human-ruled regions we've found, Outlanders now sit on all three thrones? Or throne-equivalents," he corrected with a wry grin.
Ronin nodded to Jigano. "Or Delphia, yes. She's got a fun little trick, where she can make herself and the people around her much lighter, or heavier depending on how she feels. Pain in the ass when she's having a tantrum," he remarked with a wry smirk. Finishing the last of the breadfruit, he fed Isuma one last morsel before leaning back on his hands and enjoying the stillness of the day, the lazy afternoon.
"You know, I didn't, but now you've mentioned it..." Ronin chuckled, shaking his head. "We must have made an impression, though I'm no longer sure whether it's a good one or a bad one." At least the citizens of those lands didn't seem... mutinous about it, he thought with relief.
"Gravity games?" the bard asked, bemused and a little unsettled at the thought of such a power in the hands of a child. "I could see that making things difficult. As if raising a child without powers wasn't difficult enough!" He chuckled, a sympathetic sort of humor for what Ronin faced. A challenge he knew he wasn't suited for and had no desire to take on, any more than Rory did.
Isuma nibbled the last of the treat happily, chasing crumbs down Ronin's shirt and then settling across his lap, purring contentedly. Jigano tossed the seed pod into the pool, to wash away to some more distant shore and maybe begin a new life there as he hummed thoughtfully at the Preceptor's response. "Must have been a good one, here," he pointed out with a grin. "It didn't look like any of the local Naturals were interested in the position, or running against Remi and Sunjata. Is there anything you're going to change, now that you're in charge? I can recommend a particularly important law - Free Drink Fridays for Bards - if you're looking for a place to start," he teased.
"As if raising a child wasn't difficult enough," Ronin said, his fingers plucking at the grains of sand around the edges of the pool. Powers or no powers, it wasn't a walk in the park. Especially given that he'd not intended to ever do it again. Luckily, his melancholy was chased away by Isuma trying to fetch the last bits of fruit from inside his shirt, the hunter laughing and having to shake them out that the gryphlet didn't end up climbing inside.
Scritching at the feathery fluffball on his lap, he nodded to Jigano in agreement. "I'd never met the previous Governor, and even the Naturals don't seem to have seen him in the months leading up to the eruption," he said, a laugh tumbling out of him at the suggestion. "I'll float it to Remi - I might even use my Preceptor powers to make a compelling case for it. As for changes, I think we are looking into building canals through Haulani. It's a big job, but it would make a difference I think."
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