neron
Neron’s lips part in an O of exaggerated shock, as if receiving honest praise from his brother is a rare thing indeed. And it was, once, but... well, fuck it. He and Loren are trying to be better, and so far so good and all that. Which is why, when he asks about the family, the Hailstorm swallows his initial remarks about Loren’s lack-of-a-last-name. Instead he stares down into his glass, eyes narrowing a fraction.
”Zariah is dead,” he says slowly. ”She went out into the Tundra and never came back.” His tone never grows emotional, possibility because the tangle of feelings is too complex. ”Beatrix is Beatrix. I have heard rumours about Jace returning, as an adult no less... but I haven’t tried to confirm anything.”
Neron clinks his glass against his brother’s, scoffing and resisting the urge to give him a shove for his trouble. That’s what brothers did, right? Playfully fought and whatnot? ”You know, there’s a job here for you if you want it. Maybe we can make things look up for you, too. Though I can’t do much for spirits, unless they’re the alcoholic kind.”
”Zariah is dead,” he says slowly. ”She went out into the Tundra and never came back.” His tone never grows emotional, possibility because the tangle of feelings is too complex. ”Beatrix is Beatrix. I have heard rumours about Jace returning, as an adult no less... but I haven’t tried to confirm anything.”
Neron clinks his glass against his brother’s, scoffing and resisting the urge to give him a shove for his trouble. That’s what brothers did, right? Playfully fought and whatnot? ”You know, there’s a job here for you if you want it. Maybe we can make things look up for you, too. Though I can’t do much for spirits, unless they’re the alcoholic kind.”
lay your hand on me, one last time
