I write sins, not tragedies
This is quite the conundrum that the Hailstorm’s put her in. There have been worse, she thinks, as she heads for the VlamVloed, then catches herself. Have there been? Is this is? Morgan’s dead, he’s “missing” and sending cryptic letters, and she knows exactly where her head goes with that information.
Motive lacking, of course. But that doesn’t erase the frown of worry the Wraith wears as she slips silently in through the bar door as the last patron departs. Offering a wave to the slightly tipsy, bumbling Grounder, she latches the door behind her and scans the empty room.
“Neron?” she calls out after a moment, half expecting him to not be there after all.
Motive lacking, of course. But that doesn’t erase the frown of worry the Wraith wears as she slips silently in through the bar door as the last patron departs. Offering a wave to the slightly tipsy, bumbling Grounder, she latches the door behind her and scans the empty room.
“Neron?” she calls out after a moment, half expecting him to not be there after all.
WESSEX
