NERON
the hailstorm
”Then I’ll ensure it maintains its air of ridiculous secrecy.” Neron smirks around the room. ”Unless you truly see no use for it, in which case I would also appreciate space to send you any updates or information that you need.” It certainly wouldn’t be this dusty if Neron were in charge of it. ”Either way, passing on any decisions would be appreciated.” Especially given Neron’s proclivity for staying the hell out of Torchline.
But enough business. Now for pleasure more business. He raises his eyebrows, a mix of confused and intrigued to hear about Sunjata’s fiancé. He wants to ask who the lucky Ascended might be, but he figures it’s a little inappropriate for the current situation. ”Wouldn’t want to mark their territory,” he mutters with a dark laugh, prowling across the room to stand opposite the other man, leaning in towards the tilting, horned head, the exposed neck marred by silver scars.
Neron’s hand slips up to clasp the other side of Jata’s neck, and he swears he can smell the sun and the sea on his skin, but of course that’s likely all imagined. Without wasting further words, his lips part to let his fangs slip into the Attuned’s veins, into the wellspring of hot, sweet blood and a rush of euphoria that has him melting forward, his free hand bracing against the desk they’re leaning against.
But enough business. Now for pleasure more business. He raises his eyebrows, a mix of confused and intrigued to hear about Sunjata’s fiancé. He wants to ask who the lucky Ascended might be, but he figures it’s a little inappropriate for the current situation. ”Wouldn’t want to mark their territory,” he mutters with a dark laugh, prowling across the room to stand opposite the other man, leaning in towards the tilting, horned head, the exposed neck marred by silver scars.
Neron’s hand slips up to clasp the other side of Jata’s neck, and he swears he can smell the sun and the sea on his skin, but of course that’s likely all imagined. Without wasting further words, his lips part to let his fangs slip into the Attuned’s veins, into the wellspring of hot, sweet blood and a rush of euphoria that has him melting forward, his free hand bracing against the desk they’re leaning against.
