NERON
the hailstorm
All Neron had these days was time. So the punishment of waiting probably wasn't so infuriating as it might have been, had he still been a busy man with things to do and places to be. And besides, given how long it had taken for Weaver to come and see him - Loren had been his only visitor, besides the truly charming guards stated outside his door - he had somewhat more important things on his mind. Hunger topped the list, unfortunately, even when the Warden of Halo was also on said list.
Weaver knocked, waited, then entered, and Neron had done little more to prepare than to look up from his place sitting on the bed, back resting against the wall, a knee pulled up to his chest. He was still dressed in his clothes from the Eirachi attack even now, not that it made a difference in terms of hygiene, being Ascended and all that. He watched, steel blue eyes sharp, as she fetched her chair and gave him her best power pose, having to stop the sardonic smile from creeping across his face. "I am sure that is how you will go down in the history books, as well. Not so terrible, until you were," he quipped. "Though you play a convincing Warden, for a barkeep. For whatever it's worth."
She wanted all the story, though? He grinned and closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall. "How long do you have? It isn't a short little jaunt into the past," he muttered, before drawing a breath he didn't need to begin.
"Zariah Launceleyn is the head of my family. I say this now, at the start, because it is important. And it explains the megalomania," he said. "Where I'm from, our family were born and bred magicians of the highest order, purest bloodline and so on, charged with protecting the royal line. We were cursed, too - if we went against the king or his family, that curse would kill us." Opening his eyes again, he took pause, directing his gaze out of the window. It was never easy to even think about it, and Neron didn't think he'd ever given it words before.
"How do you instil that sort of loyalty, those sorts of consequences, into a child?" he asked Weaver. "Because for the Launceleyns it was a strategic method of torture and comfort. Learn to fear the punishment and crave the approval of the head of the family above all, and you would be protected against stepping out of line. You wouldn't care about anything else. That's how it went for us - for me, for Loren, for all our other siblings."
A hand came up to run through his hair. "Only, you can imagine that children learn to cope very creatively with that sort of upbringing. Loren shuts down, goes somewhere else in himself, when things get difficult. I learned to love pain. When the portal opened and I was flung here, as I told you - I made a deal with the Eirachi. Safety and power, in exchange for a firstborn I did not have, and never intended to have." Sacrificing children was a little far, even for him.
"And it worked out well for a while here, in Halo. I was content to leave my past behind - I even learned freedom, to a certain extent. But then the portal here opened, and in walked Zariah - with a child she claimed was mine from some... other life lived." The head of the family, the thumb he was forced under, the cause of all pain and pleasure and every other bad habit he had ever learned. And the bargaining chip with the Eirachi he had never intended to create or use.
"I couldn't cope with it, after a taste of something different. So I ran from it, all the way to the Voice, to the goddess I knew would remove the ability to feel those extremes. But not for one minute did I expect the Eirachi to take it out on anyone other than myself. Or for Zariah to sacrifice the boy. I learned that the same time you did." Neron sighed, even if he didn't need to. "So there you have it. Cheerful little tale, isn't it?"
Weaver knocked, waited, then entered, and Neron had done little more to prepare than to look up from his place sitting on the bed, back resting against the wall, a knee pulled up to his chest. He was still dressed in his clothes from the Eirachi attack even now, not that it made a difference in terms of hygiene, being Ascended and all that. He watched, steel blue eyes sharp, as she fetched her chair and gave him her best power pose, having to stop the sardonic smile from creeping across his face. "I am sure that is how you will go down in the history books, as well. Not so terrible, until you were," he quipped. "Though you play a convincing Warden, for a barkeep. For whatever it's worth."
She wanted all the story, though? He grinned and closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall. "How long do you have? It isn't a short little jaunt into the past," he muttered, before drawing a breath he didn't need to begin.
"Zariah Launceleyn is the head of my family. I say this now, at the start, because it is important. And it explains the megalomania," he said. "Where I'm from, our family were born and bred magicians of the highest order, purest bloodline and so on, charged with protecting the royal line. We were cursed, too - if we went against the king or his family, that curse would kill us." Opening his eyes again, he took pause, directing his gaze out of the window. It was never easy to even think about it, and Neron didn't think he'd ever given it words before.
"How do you instil that sort of loyalty, those sorts of consequences, into a child?" he asked Weaver. "Because for the Launceleyns it was a strategic method of torture and comfort. Learn to fear the punishment and crave the approval of the head of the family above all, and you would be protected against stepping out of line. You wouldn't care about anything else. That's how it went for us - for me, for Loren, for all our other siblings."
A hand came up to run through his hair. "Only, you can imagine that children learn to cope very creatively with that sort of upbringing. Loren shuts down, goes somewhere else in himself, when things get difficult. I learned to love pain. When the portal opened and I was flung here, as I told you - I made a deal with the Eirachi. Safety and power, in exchange for a firstborn I did not have, and never intended to have." Sacrificing children was a little far, even for him.
"And it worked out well for a while here, in Halo. I was content to leave my past behind - I even learned freedom, to a certain extent. But then the portal here opened, and in walked Zariah - with a child she claimed was mine from some... other life lived." The head of the family, the thumb he was forced under, the cause of all pain and pleasure and every other bad habit he had ever learned. And the bargaining chip with the Eirachi he had never intended to create or use.
"I couldn't cope with it, after a taste of something different. So I ran from it, all the way to the Voice, to the goddess I knew would remove the ability to feel those extremes. But not for one minute did I expect the Eirachi to take it out on anyone other than myself. Or for Zariah to sacrifice the boy. I learned that the same time you did." Neron sighed, even if he didn't need to. "So there you have it. Cheerful little tale, isn't it?"
