WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
Neron was not strictly royalty, despite the icy glory of the Palace that hung over Snowcloak, and so it was not unusual to find people approaching him to greet, speak and ask questions. So Loren would not be impeded in his approach, Neron glancing up from his mug of mulled cider to find a face as familiar to him as his own. Once upon a time back at Northaven - a name so foreign on his tongue now that it had taken a moment to recall it - they had been in the process of mending their relationship.
Who knew what would happen now? Apologies, it seemed, would be a good start. "It was quite the befuddlement for me to awaken in the snow with a new face," he said quietly, accepting the wine with his free hand and nodding a farewell to the merchant. "I can understand well your confusion and disbelief." Had he not been drinking cider he'd have inspected the wine a little further, but for now he allowed it an interested glance before tucking it away beneath his cloak for later perusal.
"I appreciate the compliment but pandering is not necessary," he said of his illusions, making his way away from the stall, boots crunching in the snow. "Walk with me?"
Who knew what would happen now? Apologies, it seemed, would be a good start. "It was quite the befuddlement for me to awaken in the snow with a new face," he said quietly, accepting the wine with his free hand and nodding a farewell to the merchant. "I can understand well your confusion and disbelief." Had he not been drinking cider he'd have inspected the wine a little further, but for now he allowed it an interested glance before tucking it away beneath his cloak for later perusal.
"I appreciate the compliment but pandering is not necessary," he said of his illusions, making his way away from the stall, boots crunching in the snow. "Walk with me?"
