Everyone had shadows and monsters in their soul, and everyone judged themselves the harshest. And while Jigano hadn't said exactly what had happened in Torch—and Rory hadn't pressed—it was obviously something that could be slotted into the category. Rory merely blinked, choosing to remain silent. His most immediate response was merely something along the lines of at least you're trying, and those words sat uncomfortably in his mouth, so he swallowed them again.
He wondered what it was Jigano had spoken with Ludo about, what he had bargained for; whatever it was, it seemed to be a painful, or embarrassing, subject, if his reaction was anything to go by. A small frown creased his forehead, and again he debated whether to push, to ask, or let it join the pile of later.
"Are any of them, though?" he asked quietly. His own experience with them was so limited, but from what he had heard, the deities were not exactly known for doing anything for free, or out of the kindness of their hearts... "I've only seen Ludo at the Festival of Lights. And I still don't understand why it gave me its lantern..." If he was supposed to do anything with it, Ludo had failed to inform him, and why the God had chosen to give it to him... Was it because he had spoken out, passionate for something?
Bah. Silence of the Gods, indeed.
Rory had heard tales before, of what had supposedly happened, or existed, outside of Caido; hearing Jigano's tale was, in a way, much the same. A distant thing he could not quite picture nor comprehend, and for another moment he felt both terrified and horrified that the man sitting on his bed and holding his hand was from another world entirely—something so vast and incomprehensible and alien that he couldn't wrap his head around—it threatened to tear the solid ground out from underneath him and throw him into blackness.
But his hand was warm, just like everybody else's hands. Rory had seen him bleed. Just a skin-sack of flesh and bones and blood like the rest of them.
His breathing was quiet and shallow to conceal the tremors. It was obvious that Jigano's life had been violent at least in some capacity—not just the mention of a raid, but specifically, how his strange brand of music had influenced enemies and allies. Not just singing healing songs to cows and whatnot.
How different they were.
"That must've been a large part of yourself to lose," he said softly. He took what Jigano said for what it was, a story from a world he would never see nor truly understand, yet there was one thing he did not understand. "But what do you mean, becoming human for real..?"
He wondered what it was Jigano had spoken with Ludo about, what he had bargained for; whatever it was, it seemed to be a painful, or embarrassing, subject, if his reaction was anything to go by. A small frown creased his forehead, and again he debated whether to push, to ask, or let it join the pile of later.
"Are any of them, though?" he asked quietly. His own experience with them was so limited, but from what he had heard, the deities were not exactly known for doing anything for free, or out of the kindness of their hearts... "I've only seen Ludo at the Festival of Lights. And I still don't understand why it gave me its lantern..." If he was supposed to do anything with it, Ludo had failed to inform him, and why the God had chosen to give it to him... Was it because he had spoken out, passionate for something?
Bah. Silence of the Gods, indeed.
Rory had heard tales before, of what had supposedly happened, or existed, outside of Caido; hearing Jigano's tale was, in a way, much the same. A distant thing he could not quite picture nor comprehend, and for another moment he felt both terrified and horrified that the man sitting on his bed and holding his hand was from another world entirely—something so vast and incomprehensible and alien that he couldn't wrap his head around—it threatened to tear the solid ground out from underneath him and throw him into blackness.
But his hand was warm, just like everybody else's hands. Rory had seen him bleed. Just a skin-sack of flesh and bones and blood like the rest of them.
His breathing was quiet and shallow to conceal the tremors. It was obvious that Jigano's life had been violent at least in some capacity—not just the mention of a raid, but specifically, how his strange brand of music had influenced enemies and allies. Not just singing healing songs to cows and whatnot.
How different they were.
"That must've been a large part of yourself to lose," he said softly. He took what Jigano said for what it was, a story from a world he would never see nor truly understand, yet there was one thing he did not understand. "But what do you mean, becoming human for real..?"
