neron
Morgan pushes her bowl away and Neron runs a long finger around the rim of the wine glass. Were it made of finer stuff, he might have even been able to make it sing. Alas. Listening carefully as she explains - talking to the dead has a raise of the eyebrows, certainly - the Hailstorm sips again at his wine. ”And have you ever done it? Spoken to people who have passed on, I mean,” he asks. Perhaps it’s the tragedies that have struck the Citadel as of late, but he can’t help but think about it.
But then she speaks more, and Neron wonders more what kind of natural spirits go to follow the Warden around when she’s trying to find some peace and solitude. ”I would have expected you to be able to explain anything, given enough thought,” he says, lips parting to speak again when there’s a sudden slam from out the back of the bar. ”...Like that, for instance,” Neron mutters, getting to his feet.
But then she speaks more, and Neron wonders more what kind of natural spirits go to follow the Warden around when she’s trying to find some peace and solitude. ”I would have expected you to be able to explain anything, given enough thought,” he says, lips parting to speak again when there’s a sudden slam from out the back of the bar. ”...Like that, for instance,” Neron mutters, getting to his feet.
lay your hand on me, one last time
