"It seemed... right," he said quietly, remembering that visit to the shrine under the starlight, with the glowing stones and folded paper he'd brought as an offering. But at least she didn't make fun of him for it, or view him with mistrust, as those who had experienced some of the... other gods might have done. It made introductions easier, and he approached as slowly as he would have a wild thing, both sleepy and not feeling particularly quick-footed, and not wanting to startle her.
He needn't have worried - the luxere provided a far better distraction and he couldn't help but smile at her joy in it. His request for the song was made innocently, but her reaction was not one simply of shyness, but distress. The lorekeeper straightened, looking down at her in worry as she stuttered. He forgot the luxere for the moment - the deer was more common to him than Amalia - as she tried to sing and not merely faltered but failed, throat closing tight on the first note.
"I'm sorry," he spoke gently. "I didn't mean to cause you pain." He stepped over to kneel beside her, slipping a pack from beneath his cloak and dipping his hand into it with deft confidence, knowing exactly what was packed and where. He withdrew a wooden twintail flute, adjusting the blocks with practiced ease before raising it to his lips. The first note rang out in G minor, soft and coaxing, but soon other notes joined it in the morning air as Jigano played the instrument slowly. When the luxere blinked at him and took a step closer he stifled a smile, adding the drone side. It might not have been singing, but the deer seemed curious about the music - and, Jigano hoped, slanting a glance to his companion, Amalia would be too?
He needn't have worried - the luxere provided a far better distraction and he couldn't help but smile at her joy in it. His request for the song was made innocently, but her reaction was not one simply of shyness, but distress. The lorekeeper straightened, looking down at her in worry as she stuttered. He forgot the luxere for the moment - the deer was more common to him than Amalia - as she tried to sing and not merely faltered but failed, throat closing tight on the first note.
"I'm sorry," he spoke gently. "I didn't mean to cause you pain." He stepped over to kneel beside her, slipping a pack from beneath his cloak and dipping his hand into it with deft confidence, knowing exactly what was packed and where. He withdrew a wooden twintail flute, adjusting the blocks with practiced ease before raising it to his lips. The first note rang out in G minor, soft and coaxing, but soon other notes joined it in the morning air as Jigano played the instrument slowly. When the luxere blinked at him and took a step closer he stifled a smile, adding the drone side. It might not have been singing, but the deer seemed curious about the music - and, Jigano hoped, slanting a glance to his companion, Amalia would be too?
