"I think that if Ludo could, they would have done so by now," Jigano said softly, giving a small shake of his head at Amalia's heartfelt question, but glancing to the god for confirmation that this was true. That Ludo had said that they had tried and failed to corral them before seemed to lead credence to that assumption, at least. "On my world, those souls that had remained too long, become too twisted by hate, could only be banished from the mortal realm by force." He had once had a spell for such a thing, in fact, to make the weapons of himself and his allies effective against those beings which no longer had physical form. "But... from what I have learned of Mort, that doesn't seem to be his way," he finished, with a deep nod of respect to Ludo.
But the reward for their service belonged to Amalia, and he only wished he had realized how much she needed that connection of family and friends sooner. To be granted a final chance to speak with her grandmother, a woman she so clearly admired and adored, was indeed a prize beyond price and Jigano melted back so he would not be in the way. The exchange was heartbreakingly sweet, and even though he tried not to intrude, the bard felt like an interloper on the hallowed ground where granddaughter and grandmother momentarily reunited.
He bowed his head, turning away from Amalia's tears which he took to be precious and private things, watched instead as their ethereal companions continued to find their ways towards lanterns large and small. He did not know them, as his pious friend had, could not put names to faces or memories to any of them, but it had felt good to serve as Oracle again, even for so brief a time, and when Amalia offered the god her thanks the lorekeeper turned back towards the masked youth and bowed as well in silent gratitude.
But the reward for their service belonged to Amalia, and he only wished he had realized how much she needed that connection of family and friends sooner. To be granted a final chance to speak with her grandmother, a woman she so clearly admired and adored, was indeed a prize beyond price and Jigano melted back so he would not be in the way. The exchange was heartbreakingly sweet, and even though he tried not to intrude, the bard felt like an interloper on the hallowed ground where granddaughter and grandmother momentarily reunited.
He bowed his head, turning away from Amalia's tears which he took to be precious and private things, watched instead as their ethereal companions continued to find their ways towards lanterns large and small. He did not know them, as his pious friend had, could not put names to faces or memories to any of them, but it had felt good to serve as Oracle again, even for so brief a time, and when Amalia offered the god her thanks the lorekeeper turned back towards the masked youth and bowed as well in silent gratitude.
