NERON
the hailstorm
”It’s an interesting turn of events, isn’t it.” Neron’s voice would echo somewhere next to Chulane, the ex-Warden escorted by the guard that Weaver had commissioned as perhaps one of her last orders as the leader of the Citadel. Steel blue eyes flickered over the proceedings; the two opposing parties, one of whom was his twin (and oho, who would have thought that little Loren not-Launceleyn would have the testicular fortitude for this?), the crowd gathered, Wessex’s outburst.
Neron sighed. He didn’t look good, drawn and weak and spending most of his time these days tucked away and watching the world go by. But at least he could show up for this. ”I can only hope that the next Warden has a more successful run than the last two.”
Neron sighed. He didn’t look good, drawn and weak and spending most of his time these days tucked away and watching the world go by. But at least he could show up for this. ”I can only hope that the next Warden has a more successful run than the last two.”
