Mort smiles across at his new charge, his fingers wrapping easily around Remi's with no intention of letting him go just yet. "I know that my herald has expressed some concerns about you recently," he says conversationally as they walk. "I believe they come from a place of concern and love for you, for what it's worth."
As they walk they are not alone - in the trees, a small bird chirps its joy at the duo, fluttering down to nestle against Mort's free shoulder, before hopping across to Remi's. "You haven't? Well this should be quite a treat. Come on."
Mort picks up his pace, though they don't seem to go any faster, and before long the woods around them are little more than a mass of greens and browns and violets - all but a small cluster of colours up ahead. Red, blue, white - they gather around the base of a tree, and at the god's approach, the spriggans all glance up.
Vaguely humanoid and pulsing with light, they appear almost to be created from the elements that form them. Rock and flame for the one shrouded in crimson - shells and water for the one cloaked with aqua. There is one colour missing, however - and its tiny body is almost camouflaged against the forest floor. Formed out of leaves and twigs, the dead spriggan is doubtlessly mourned by its comrades.
"We do not often stay after death, to look at what is left behind," Mort comments. "And what is left, more often than not, is a lot of love."
As they walk they are not alone - in the trees, a small bird chirps its joy at the duo, fluttering down to nestle against Mort's free shoulder, before hopping across to Remi's. "You haven't? Well this should be quite a treat. Come on."
Mort picks up his pace, though they don't seem to go any faster, and before long the woods around them are little more than a mass of greens and browns and violets - all but a small cluster of colours up ahead. Red, blue, white - they gather around the base of a tree, and at the god's approach, the spriggans all glance up.
Vaguely humanoid and pulsing with light, they appear almost to be created from the elements that form them. Rock and flame for the one shrouded in crimson - shells and water for the one cloaked with aqua. There is one colour missing, however - and its tiny body is almost camouflaged against the forest floor. Formed out of leaves and twigs, the dead spriggan is doubtlessly mourned by its comrades.
"We do not often stay after death, to look at what is left behind," Mort comments. "And what is left, more often than not, is a lot of love."
mort
