neron
”As if I could resist lending you a hand.” It’s a rare thing, for there to be anything close to warmth in Neron’s voice, but Chuy has seen him through some incredibly rough times. He owes him one, and that’s saying something. The ex-Warden is dressed in his customary black, not nearly as protected against the cold as he ought to be, and his steely gaze flicks from the shed to the markers in the field beyond, eyebrows raising at the state of this.
”Now this won’t do,” he says with a huff of laughter. ”We’ll have to get this place looking a bit more suitable for you, don’t you think? I’ve ice magic, for the cool storage. No better thing to build out of, in Halo.” It would be short work, with the right group of people.
”Now this won’t do,” he says with a huff of laughter. ”We’ll have to get this place looking a bit more suitable for you, don’t you think? I’ve ice magic, for the cool storage. No better thing to build out of, in Halo.” It would be short work, with the right group of people.
lay your hand on me, one last time
