Jigano had been out early, flying a perimeter around the Spire to check for any changes to the ground since the Deepfrost snows had melted, then pacing the safe zone as a fox to check for unusual scents or tracks. He had seen and smelled nothing to indicate that today was different from any other, and in the end he had returned to the Glade to change back to his human form in solitude and send a final prayer to Ludo. Gathering his medical bag and journal he had shouldered his burdens - both physical and spiritual - and set out to watch the promised attempt. The sun was already high, his prayers having taken longer than he had realized, and the four heroes had already gathered together, making their final plans.
A larger gathering some distance away, however, caught his eye, and as he walked closer - giving the Spire itself a wide berth - his trained eyes noticed the strain and tension flowing between people. They stood together, but he could pick out the subconscious shifting of naturals and outlanders into groups. Subtly he shifted his ears, Rory's impassioned voice reaching him as he walked softly, Isuma crouched on his shoulder, tense and unhappy with the fear and worry that ached in the bard's heart for the brave men and women about to risk themselves.
Sam looked the way he felt, but Jigano still took heart to see so many of the Loreseekers gathered - to witness, to record, to remember, whether in joy or sorrow or both - in spite of the danger and the personal difficulties each wrestled with as they watched. He arrived without words, though he reached out to brush the lightest of touches across Amalia's shoulder as he passed, an invitation to join him as he moved to stand beside Rory. Isuma peep?ed worriedly at the blond hunter's tone, but the white-haired man only reached up to soothe her before dropping his hand again, close enough to feel Rory's heat but not presuming to touch him when the blond was thrumming with tension and a need to let it out.
"I'm worried about them, too" he said softly, eyes for the four who prepared to face a threat that had taken the lives of natural and outlanders alike over the years.
A larger gathering some distance away, however, caught his eye, and as he walked closer - giving the Spire itself a wide berth - his trained eyes noticed the strain and tension flowing between people. They stood together, but he could pick out the subconscious shifting of naturals and outlanders into groups. Subtly he shifted his ears, Rory's impassioned voice reaching him as he walked softly, Isuma crouched on his shoulder, tense and unhappy with the fear and worry that ached in the bard's heart for the brave men and women about to risk themselves.
Sam looked the way he felt, but Jigano still took heart to see so many of the Loreseekers gathered - to witness, to record, to remember, whether in joy or sorrow or both - in spite of the danger and the personal difficulties each wrestled with as they watched. He arrived without words, though he reached out to brush the lightest of touches across Amalia's shoulder as he passed, an invitation to join him as he moved to stand beside Rory. Isuma peep?ed worriedly at the blond hunter's tone, but the white-haired man only reached up to soothe her before dropping his hand again, close enough to feel Rory's heat but not presuming to touch him when the blond was thrumming with tension and a need to let it out.
"I'm worried about them, too" he said softly, eyes for the four who prepared to face a threat that had taken the lives of natural and outlanders alike over the years.
