Neron
"Oh? Those great leathery things got anything to do with it?" Neron asks, gesturing to the wings aflutter on Sunjata's shoulders with the bottle in his hand. He wishes he could smell the whiskey as he pours it into a glass that frosts with ice from a pulse of his magic; the amber liquid certainly looks like it would taste good, and he sets it down in front of the Flood with a tilt of the glass - a cheers that he can't return, unfortunately.
At the mention of having those weeks, he can't help but snort and nod his agreement to Sunjata. "You mean those weeks where I wondered whether the people would freeze to death during Deepfrost? Or the weeks where a goddess destroyed the Palace and told everyone it was my fault?" he asks. They were both stress, but they were markedly different, as he was sure the other man could understand.
At the mention of having those weeks, he can't help but snort and nod his agreement to Sunjata. "You mean those weeks where I wondered whether the people would freeze to death during Deepfrost? Or the weeks where a goddess destroyed the Palace and told everyone it was my fault?" he asks. They were both stress, but they were markedly different, as he was sure the other man could understand.
i am mine
before i am ever anyone else’s
before i am ever anyone else’s
