Neron
the wind breathes lonely
longing to be seen
longing to be seen
”We... don’t.” Neron frowns darkly at the red liquid as it pools and soaks into the floorboards, guaranteed to leave a large and sticky stain. He doesn’t like the way Chuy makes sense, the Hailstorm conflating the man he knows as his friend and whatever his twisted logic is telling him. ”I am warm though, aren’t I?” He says suddenly, clarity in his expression as he tries to find the other man’s gaze. Shadows keep playing at the corners of his vision and it’s impossible to concentrate for long; soon he loses focus, interested instead in the grains of wood on the table.
”To the Shrine? What for?” he asks quietly, apparently forgetting what he’s literally just asked for. He smiles, and it almost seems sad. ”I’m sorry, Chuy. I fear I can’t quite remember what we were talking about. What... how long have we been in here...?” And why are all the chairs upside down. It’s a cycle that he’s caught in, one that he might have been repeating for hours even before the Attuned arrived.
”To the Shrine? What for?” he asks quietly, apparently forgetting what he’s literally just asked for. He smiles, and it almost seems sad. ”I’m sorry, Chuy. I fear I can’t quite remember what we were talking about. What... how long have we been in here...?” And why are all the chairs upside down. It’s a cycle that he’s caught in, one that he might have been repeating for hours even before the Attuned arrived.
sometimes the soul
has days like these
has days like these
