One for sorrow, two for mirth

Jigano didn't really mind Caiside's approach. The other man was a friend, and even if he wasn't the raven still had his wings. It was unexpectedly reassuring, knowing he had the power of flight - his own power, not a potion or spell cast by someone else that left him flailing and fighting to control it. Stories are better than songs like this, I feel, the bard admitted with that flicker of wry humor surfacing from the tension of his shared thoughts. But if not stories, then what would you suggest? Math equations just didn't hold the same appeal, after all!

Yes, Jigano chuckled wryly. The roaring lion, when we were helping Sam set up his bookshop. And the soaring hawk. Jigano's thoughts were an echo of Caiside's on Remi's immaturity, but he did not 'voice' them consciously. I only met Ronin... well, twice, I suppose, though the first time was so brief it hardly counted. He seemed a good man, though. I regret not having the chance to know him better. The raven shook its head, cawing quietly. But for what comes next... the gods are at war, it seems. They will resist our efforts to escape this cage they made for the Ascended, and I doubt our freedom will be gained without further conflict, the lorekeeper confided somberly to his antlered friend. Have a care for yourself, Caiside. The Voice and her fellows from the past may have brought this down on all of us... but I'm not so sure that either tale I've heard is entirely the truth. I suspect we'll be forced to choose sides before this is over, and that choice won't be an easy one... and there may not be a 'right' side, regardless.

Caiside wished he could laugh in this form, Jigano’s wit surfacing in his mental voice at last. The closest he could manage was letting his joy filter through the connection between them, though he didn’t know if hianemotion would be carried like his words were. Though he did have to stop and think about the other mans words after that. I suppose you’re right. He conceded after a moment. Between the two of them, Caiside was certain they’d find something to talk about, but stories were the most obvious. And he wanted to hear more of Jigano’s past. He could deal with missing out on the jumacea that came with body language for that.

There was a part of him that felt smug about the other man sharing his opinion of Remi. A small, petty part of him, but a part of him nonetheless. The feeling was dampened quickly by the somberness of the moment, Caiside growing somewhat numb. If Ronin was as good a man as you think he is, then it is a shame I was never able to meet him either.

Things will always be broken by mortal hands. It’s simply the nature of people. Caiside pointed out. The gods must have known this day would come. He sighed, already weary with the idea of war, especially war he had next to no stakes in. He had been in enough of thoswnto last him a lifetime, that they nearly had filled his lifetime. There will be a right side. Perhaps not right to everyone, but wars have winners. The sides are decided by them. He shivered after his words, an uncomfortable chill trying to settle in his shoulders. The last thing Caiside wanted to find himself embroiled in was a war.

Who knows what they thought? the raven mused. The last contact with the ones who made the barrier was over three hundred years ago. But their heralds here seem as eager to leave as we are. We have been given both weapons and knowledge by them, after all, for bypassing the Spire's guardian and braving whatever lies inside.

He tilted his head at Caiside's jaded pessimism, croaking softly with amusement at his friend's opinion. Don't be so quick to assume that might makes right, or that victory is the same as morality he cautioned. Or that we will survive to see the end of this conflict. It began more than three hundred years ago, and it may yet stretch for another three hundred years... Or we may find ourselves flung to the front lines, whether we will it or no. We are Attuned, after all. Our side was chosen for us even as we arrived on this world, from what I've come to understand.

The victors are the ones who tell the stories. Caiside knew better than anyone how damaging it could be to have someone else spread your story, and it was never better on a large scale. Repairing the damage that had come from the falsehoods spread about him had taken years, and his name had not been well known during the war. Sometimes, that is even more powerful than being right. The tone of his silent voice had changed, grown melancholy with his words, his head dipping as if suddenly tugged down by a great weight.

The idea that he could die, in a war he had never asked to be a part of, was gut wrenching. Caiside couldn’t stand being manipulated for causes he cared about, this was something he barely even knew about. And the fact that he’d been stripped of his powers, all of his hard work and suffering, and made into just another hapless pawn just made it all the worse. The gods on his own world could be cruel, but this was a torture beyond anything they could conjure. This simply felt like suffering upon suffering, a scar over a scar. Caiaide was silent for a long moment, his breath coming in deliberate, heavy beats.

This has been an... eye opening conversation, but... I think I should be getting back to town. His tone was stuff to start with, but slowly grew more animated the longer he ‘spoke’. You are free to join me, thought I won’t be... talkative. You’ve given me quite a bit to think about.

He could feel the melancholy slipping through the odd telepathic link between them, and the raven cawed quietly, an oddly gentle sound from its harsh throat. He might now know why Caiside was saddened by the thought, but his words and tone made it sound oddly personal.

I suppose that depends on the victors, he said after a moment’s reflection of his own past and choices. But on the whole… you are right enough. Though even the stories of the victors might fade in time. A mere three hundred years, and look how much history – from both sides - has already been lost here?

Old Gods and the Voice, Acquired-turned-Ascended and the Abandoned left behind by both… but were Safrin’s words true, or merely truth as she wished it to be? Or was 108’s version of history true – or simply true as the Voice had shaped it for her children?

Jigano croaked again, then fluffed his feathers and nodded slowly. Yes. I have indulged my own curiosity enough out here, I think. It’s time to get back to work, he ‘said’ with an internal sigh. We can head back together. Two is safer than one if we run into trouble anyways, he added, with a flicker of dim humor.

And so stag and raven made their silent way back towards the Settlement, together but lost in their own grim thoughts.