He had spent a few hard days of Long Night in the dimly lit Infirmary, sitting with Rory or setting his hand to cleaning and mending what he could. He had not, he realized now with a wince as he looked around, tried very hard to clean the place, however. Isla's... transformation... had thrown the place into disarray, and his own guilt and worries and ennui had hung heavily over him during the time he'd spent there. Once Rory had awoken, once Ludo had answered a quiet prayer, once the Spark Bird had arrived... he had found his hope renewed, his heart beginning to heal from the nightmare that had brought him low. The return of the sun and the gentle winds of spring had done much to aid his recovery, but while others had left the Temple gladly to return to homes and farms and businesses, Jigano had found himself staying back.
Isla might not have been truly dead, but it seemed as though she'd been changed almost beyond recognition. It wasn't right to mourn her, he knew, but... still, he needed to do something to give him a sense of closure to that chapter in their friendship.
He was surprised to see Vervain there ahead of him but then... perhaps not so surprised. With Isla gone, the Rathskeller's mistress, with her strong healing talent, had saved several lives during Long Night. He cleared his throat as he entered the space, knocking his knuckles lightly on a wooden bedframe as he moved to help her with the sheets. "A hunter, a tavern owner, a doctor... is there anything you can't do, mistress Vervain?" he asked his employer with a small smile. He was more haggard than the last time she'd seen him, his cheeks a little more hollow, his blue eyes a little more shadowed, and a sense of weariness over his shoulders that he didn't try to hide from her. But there was warmth in his smile still, and his appearance was neat and tidy once more. And there was a small, kittenish gryphon in pale feathers and fur who dodged his quiet feet and attacked his bootlaces with fierce enthusiasm.
Isla might not have been truly dead, but it seemed as though she'd been changed almost beyond recognition. It wasn't right to mourn her, he knew, but... still, he needed to do something to give him a sense of closure to that chapter in their friendship.
He was surprised to see Vervain there ahead of him but then... perhaps not so surprised. With Isla gone, the Rathskeller's mistress, with her strong healing talent, had saved several lives during Long Night. He cleared his throat as he entered the space, knocking his knuckles lightly on a wooden bedframe as he moved to help her with the sheets. "A hunter, a tavern owner, a doctor... is there anything you can't do, mistress Vervain?" he asked his employer with a small smile. He was more haggard than the last time she'd seen him, his cheeks a little more hollow, his blue eyes a little more shadowed, and a sense of weariness over his shoulders that he didn't try to hide from her. But there was warmth in his smile still, and his appearance was neat and tidy once more. And there was a small, kittenish gryphon in pale feathers and fur who dodged his quiet feet and attacked his bootlaces with fierce enthusiasm.
