Neron
the wind breathes lonely
longing to be seen
longing to be seen
Morgan takes her seat and Neron is hot on her heels, grinning and sinking down alongside her (opposite is far too formal for his liking, and brings back reminders of stuffy dinners and arranged, political setups). "Actually, my novels are rarely so twee. This is all me," he informs her, reaching out to uncover the bounty (it's typical fare from Halo, which can be expected given how difficult it is to grow anything in the climate). "I'm that you like it, though." Or at least she seems to, by the look on her face.
Taking a flask from among the picnic, he offers it out to her; it is still warm to the touch, filled with a sweet, mulled cider. "You ought to make some time to read. It's one of the best pleasures the world has to offer." He smirks, surprised by the sincerity of his own tone. "I remember you saying that you were close with spirits. What made you lean towards them?" Oh, but then the conversation takes a turn, and Neron's eyebrows shoot up. "Did you, now? Do tell. What did you think?"
Taking a flask from among the picnic, he offers it out to her; it is still warm to the touch, filled with a sweet, mulled cider. "You ought to make some time to read. It's one of the best pleasures the world has to offer." He smirks, surprised by the sincerity of his own tone. "I remember you saying that you were close with spirits. What made you lean towards them?" Oh, but then the conversation takes a turn, and Neron's eyebrows shoot up. "Did you, now? Do tell. What did you think?"
sometimes the soul
has days like these
has days like these
