"Sometimes I think we're more like them than we realize — mortals, that is. It's all the more reason for us to have care." Cid doesn't hide his judgement, well in agreement with Istredd. He'd made a Demigod himself, when he was still young and unwilling to see the wisdom in compromise. Many of his friends have done the same over the years, though no fault of their own. It's less the appearance of the Demigod that he finds objectionable, and more the lack of comment from its maker.
Cid lets himself be taken with Istredd, the peaceful nature of his domain filling the air like the scent of old parchment. He takes a moment to look around. Perhaps it's because he spends so much more time in the mortal world, but he's never quite gotten over the wonder of the breadth of knowledge contained within. He'll let Istredd lead the way — though he has a good sense of how things are arranged after his many visits, Istredd always seems to know what sections are best to cross-reference for any particular problem.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he continues, as if their conversation wasn't interrupted at all. "All the knowledge in the world and they still find ways to remind us of what lack, eh? We could chat about it, if you like. You know I've seen my fair share of children."
He does his best to see that the lonely mortal children who end up in the village find their way to mortal families in turn, but there are always the few who refuse to leave his side. Their lives are short compared to his, but even so — he remembers them well. All of them, in fact, save for one. Cid frowns, shakes his head, and focuses on Istredd again. It doesn't matter; that one must have been very long ago indeed.
welcome back!!
Cid lets himself be taken with Istredd, the peaceful nature of his domain filling the air like the scent of old parchment. He takes a moment to look around. Perhaps it's because he spends so much more time in the mortal world, but he's never quite gotten over the wonder of the breadth of knowledge contained within. He'll let Istredd lead the way — though he has a good sense of how things are arranged after his many visits, Istredd always seems to know what sections are best to cross-reference for any particular problem.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he continues, as if their conversation wasn't interrupted at all. "All the knowledge in the world and they still find ways to remind us of what lack, eh? We could chat about it, if you like. You know I've seen my fair share of children."
He does his best to see that the lonely mortal children who end up in the village find their way to mortal families in turn, but there are always the few who refuse to leave his side. Their lives are short compared to his, but even so — he remembers them well. All of them, in fact, save for one. Cid frowns, shakes his head, and focuses on Istredd again. It doesn't matter; that one must have been very long ago indeed.