NERON
the hailstorm
His hand fell away as she pulled him to his feet, the cloak he’d been pressing against his chest slipping to the ground as well. His wounds weren’t the prettiest thing in the world to look at, and still bled, but sluggishly now. Either way, Neron paid them little mind with how close Morgan was all of a sudden, their faces almost touching, her pulse something he was certain he could hear as a fluttering roar in the air around them.
The Warden’s fingers digging into his wrist were a dull pressure that he barely registered, Neron leaning in further, his free hand coming up to whisper along her cheek, to brush against wild and untamed curls. ”Consider my life saved,” he murmured, his voice a soft purr in the barely-there distance between them. ”We should get to that shrine.”
The Warden’s fingers digging into his wrist were a dull pressure that he barely registered, Neron leaning in further, his free hand coming up to whisper along her cheek, to brush against wild and untamed curls. ”Consider my life saved,” he murmured, his voice a soft purr in the barely-there distance between them. ”We should get to that shrine.”
