neron
That over there was doing his best to make good on his assurances to Rexanna when he had arrived in the Hollowed Grounds. Having been there for a few nights, Neron had decided to explore the fields today, with the sun on his back and a warm breeze tousling his fair hair. So different to Halo, and yet it called back to times when he had been able to feel the warmth properly, when he had been a lazy, half-baked member of the Launceleyns, sleeping until noon and even then not feeling as though he needed to do anything of particular merit.
Not so any more.
The dry grasses around him would seem to shift and move, as though pushed by the wind, but a closer inspection revealed something altogether more interesting. It was ribbons of water that weaved between the swaying bands of green and yellow, nourishing and hydrating the earth, feeding the fields and, with any luck, preventing the wildfires most Grounders likely dreaded.
Neron was frowning in concentration, his hands moving imperceptibly as he created his fountains of dancing water, trying not to flood the cracked land with too much.
Not so any more.
The dry grasses around him would seem to shift and move, as though pushed by the wind, but a closer inspection revealed something altogether more interesting. It was ribbons of water that weaved between the swaying bands of green and yellow, nourishing and hydrating the earth, feeding the fields and, with any luck, preventing the wildfires most Grounders likely dreaded.
Neron was frowning in concentration, his hands moving imperceptibly as he created his fountains of dancing water, trying not to flood the cracked land with too much.
lay your hand on me, one last time
