In Lieu of Formalities

Her fingers caressed his head, thumbs pressing gentle circles on his temples. Slowing her minstrations worked around the back of his ears to the hinge of his jaw, coaxing the muscles to relax. "You cannot run away from that which you are. It will only lead to madness and ruin." she said softly, a comforting coo. He had only to look to his own brother to see that this was true. "Do not forget who you are. You are Neron Launceleyn, second son of Cyton and Morgana, nephew of Colbrande, a direct descendant of Artorius and his first wife - the most regal of our family lines." she said in dulcet tones, smiling at him lovingly. Between his title of Warden, his name of Hailstorm, Launceleyn had been buried. She nodded to his thanks and stood, holding her hands out to him. "Come, now and rest." she said. If he took her hands she would begin to lead him back towards his bed. zariah If it is danger you seek, come on over. I covet tranquility but beget the tempest storm.