”You would do well to heed your own words, Are son of Jorm,” the bard said coolly, but his quiet voice was nowhere near as cold as the ice in his blue eyes as they flickered but briefly to the man he had once aided… who now repaid his kindness with such venom. He did not like the lines that were being drawn… but no one could turn back the clock and undo the choices that others had made, choices that would affect everyone within the Hollowed Grounds, Outlander and Natural alike. Jigano might have stood reluctantly… but still he had come, knowing his experiences were, if not unique in Caido, still enough to save lives… if lives were, in fact, in danger.
His eyes flickered toEdrei, the ice softening at his fiery friend, but her temper was far too frayed for talk or rationality, and Jigano gave a slight shake of his head. But though he remained at least somewhat between his two unhappy friends he let Rory speak for himself of matters he knew best. ”No one, then or now, has shown much interest in planning ahead,” he said quietly, to both of them. ”That was all we were asking for: a little more time.” He and Rory had spoken of it before the mob had converged around the hunter’s leadership, and he knew the blond needed no reminding. Edy wasn’t much for planning ahead on the best of days, and far less when her temper was running high, but she might remember the words later, when she had calmed down a little.
She’d probably still ignore them, of course. But she’d know he had tried.
His moment with Rory was interrupted by the dead woman’s ignorant yapping, and for a moment something slid, dark and cold, behind his eyes. But, as she continued, he realized that she truly knew nothing of his movements and actions of the past several days, nothing of the information he had gleaned or the plans he had laid – nothing of what he had sought, so different than what she and Roana had wanted to force. Though he didn’t relax – not with the Spire open and impetuous fools still inside it – he simply shook his head, the look he gave her almost pitying. Here she stood, boasting about being a leader while she waited in safety outside the very Spire she seemed so possessive about, encouraging others to risk themselves for her like a coward who wanted the reward without doing the work.
”Just because you weren’t asking the right questions doesn’t mean answers weren’t being found,” he spoke, his voice still quiet and chill. ”Nor that they are all waiting for you in there,” he gestured to the open door, ”and not hidden away out here, where you were too impatient to look for them, once the constraints on the secrets of the last three hundred years began to fall.” Her talk of gods might have raised a smile on a better day. Admittedly, not one with much humor, but it was almost cute, nonetheless. She wouldn’t have made it past the degenerate demigod Hellion, much less to the final battle with Unity, in Divinity’s core. Defy a god?Wessex marched to one’s tune like a proper marionette. By her own words all those who had defended the Spire had defied a god – her god.
But he was given no chance to show her the error of her ways, not when Maea came stumbling from the Spire in a state of injury he had been dreading and hoping not to see from the impulsive would-be heroes who had dived in earlier. His eyes raked her as Are and Rory stepped forward to catch her, and he drew in a sharp breath of recognition at the symptoms.
Or at least, something close enough to raise chills down his spine. Something he’d never expected to find on Caido. He stepped towards her, kneeling for a moment to brush his fingers over hers gently in reassurance. ”You did well to bring us warning,” he told his student softly. ”Hang on. We’ll go after them, and bring them back, if we can.” Or at least… whatever was left of them, if it came down to it. Rising to his feet he met Rory’s eyes grimly, and then Amalia’s. He paused only long enough to fashion a mask from torn cloth before he abandoned Are to his fate, and the women to their waiting.
His eyes flickered to
She’d probably still ignore them, of course. But she’d know he had tried.
His moment with Rory was interrupted by the dead woman’s ignorant yapping, and for a moment something slid, dark and cold, behind his eyes. But, as she continued, he realized that she truly knew nothing of his movements and actions of the past several days, nothing of the information he had gleaned or the plans he had laid – nothing of what he had sought, so different than what she and Roana had wanted to force. Though he didn’t relax – not with the Spire open and impetuous fools still inside it – he simply shook his head, the look he gave her almost pitying. Here she stood, boasting about being a leader while she waited in safety outside the very Spire she seemed so possessive about, encouraging others to risk themselves for her like a coward who wanted the reward without doing the work.
”Just because you weren’t asking the right questions doesn’t mean answers weren’t being found,” he spoke, his voice still quiet and chill. ”Nor that they are all waiting for you in there,” he gestured to the open door, ”and not hidden away out here, where you were too impatient to look for them, once the constraints on the secrets of the last three hundred years began to fall.” Her talk of gods might have raised a smile on a better day. Admittedly, not one with much humor, but it was almost cute, nonetheless. She wouldn’t have made it past the degenerate demigod Hellion, much less to the final battle with Unity, in Divinity’s core. Defy a god?
But he was given no chance to show her the error of her ways, not when Maea came stumbling from the Spire in a state of injury he had been dreading and hoping not to see from the impulsive would-be heroes who had dived in earlier. His eyes raked her as Are and Rory stepped forward to catch her, and he drew in a sharp breath of recognition at the symptoms.
Or at least, something close enough to raise chills down his spine. Something he’d never expected to find on Caido. He stepped towards her, kneeling for a moment to brush his fingers over hers gently in reassurance. ”You did well to bring us warning,” he told his student softly. ”Hang on. We’ll go after them, and bring them back, if we can.” Or at least… whatever was left of them, if it came down to it. Rising to his feet he met Rory’s eyes grimly, and then Amalia’s. He paused only long enough to fashion a mask from torn cloth before he abandoned Are to his fate, and the women to their waiting.
