Neron
the wind breathes lonely
longing to be seen
longing to be seen
Sure.
Neron doesn't know who this guy is, but he's definitely not his son. (He's not his son anyway, he's tHe OtHeR nErOn'S son, but this can't be him either). No Launceleyn he's ever met has been able to hold his tongue for long, not even Loren. On light feet with his hands still buried in his pockets, he ascends the staircase and strolls along the corridor after Jace.
They come to a small room, and the other man simply perches nearby, expectant, waiting. And okay, fine, Neron bites. "Who are you?" he asks softly. "And why do you call yourself Jace Launceleyn? That boy is gone." Dead or worse, sold to a goddess by his mother. Neron feels sour about it, a muscle feathering in his jaw.
Neron doesn't know who this guy is, but he's definitely not his son. (He's not his son anyway, he's tHe OtHeR nErOn'S son, but this can't be him either). No Launceleyn he's ever met has been able to hold his tongue for long, not even Loren. On light feet with his hands still buried in his pockets, he ascends the staircase and strolls along the corridor after Jace.
They come to a small room, and the other man simply perches nearby, expectant, waiting. And okay, fine, Neron bites. "Who are you?" he asks softly. "And why do you call yourself Jace Launceleyn? That boy is gone." Dead or worse, sold to a goddess by his mother. Neron feels sour about it, a muscle feathering in his jaw.
sometimes the soul
has days like these
has days like these
