Neron
the wind breathes lonely
longing to be seen
longing to be seen
His steel blue eyes seem flinty in the darkness as Morgan emerges from the guards' entrance, Neron's vision cutting easily through the shadows so he can take in the Warden and her efforts. And his smile is devilishly charming, if he does say so himself, the Hailstorm offering out the snowdrop that Morgan might pin it to her cloak. "You look bewitching," he purrs, beckoning for her to go first before drawing up to walk beside her. He does have somewhere in mind, in fact, but the Citadel is large and they can stroll to their heart's content for now.
"But of course. Believe it or not, the choice is made out of laziness," he says with a fanged grin her way. "Everyone looks good in black. And this way I don't have to spend too much time choosing what to wear." Ever the pragmatic one. "And there are a lot of things you don't know about me, Morgan. I daresay the same can be said for you."
"But of course. Believe it or not, the choice is made out of laziness," he says with a fanged grin her way. "Everyone looks good in black. And this way I don't have to spend too much time choosing what to wear." Ever the pragmatic one. "And there are a lot of things you don't know about me, Morgan. I daresay the same can be said for you."
sometimes the soul
has days like these
has days like these
