neron
”And I am bound to listen, as it happens.” Neron’s voice was quiet, smooth, and he glanced up from his book as Morgan entered the room. If she looked closely she would note that the ex-Warden was reading some trashy romance, courtesy of his twin (thanks Loren), and he was slouched on the bed given that it was more use as a couch than for somewhere to sleep, given his nature.
Neron looked better than in recent days, but his need to see the Voice would not be held at bay forever, and blood was not a cure; merely a patch on something much deeper. ”What can I do for you, Warden Aristomache?” he asked, placing his marker in the pages and closing the book. ”I trust that I have not been causing terror in the streets?”
Neron looked better than in recent days, but his need to see the Voice would not be held at bay forever, and blood was not a cure; merely a patch on something much deeper. ”What can I do for you, Warden Aristomache?” he asked, placing his marker in the pages and closing the book. ”I trust that I have not been causing terror in the streets?”
lay your hand on me, one last time
