the hailstorm
Neron is handing in his hybrid pass!
At first he had disliked this shrine. He had disliked the way that Wessex and her Ascended had placed it within Halo's hallowed mountains, without permission, without his involvement, without the knowledge of the majority of the people who lived in the icy clutches of the tundra. But over time - especially recently - he had come to appreciate the furtive home for this Ascended goddess. Indeed, the more he knew about those who had taken on such a transformation, the more he could not help but be tempted by its pull.
A life under the thumb, that was his future. A puppet leader in a land wilder than any other. And behind closed doors, a Launceleyn through and through. It feathered his jaw as he stood before the shrine, his cold hands clenching. His own body betrayed him at the hands of the head of the family. Upbringing, habit, trauma, pain, pleasure...
It was driving him mad.
"I understand that you are called the Voice," he said, speaking softly in a voice that rang through the metallic hall. "If you deem it so, I would wish to speak with you please."
