Neron
The Hollowed Grounds are a lot larger than Neron has given them credit. It's true that he's only ever visited previously as Warden of Halo, or as one of the Voice's footsoldiers at Longnight, but now that he's got the chance to really take the place in... well, it just keeps going. And with no Morgan, no bar, no mischief to get into, there's little more for the Hailstorm to do but explore.
Tonight's venture has taken him out to the Glade. The snow crunches underfoot and reminds him of home Halo, his hands buried in the pockets of his black coat as he peruses glowstones and the bare branches of the trees. It's a different sort of cold and a different sort of scenery, even though everything is painted white, and Neron loses himself to the sound of his own footsteps and the howl of the breeze around the distant Spire.
Tonight's venture has taken him out to the Glade. The snow crunches underfoot and reminds him of home Halo, his hands buried in the pockets of his black coat as he peruses glowstones and the bare branches of the trees. It's a different sort of cold and a different sort of scenery, even though everything is painted white, and Neron loses himself to the sound of his own footsteps and the howl of the breeze around the distant Spire.
i am mine
before i am ever anyone else’s
before i am ever anyone else’s
