NERON
the hailstorm
”If it makes you feel any better, the telekinesis wasn’t my own. The ice was, though. Rexanna called us hybrids.” But Rexanna was dead - a sad fact that Neron had come to learn second hand. He sighs, sagging further into the couch alongside Sunjata, a smile playing across his lips at what came next. The Arbiter had, put simply. His thumb runs over the dull screen of the pocket watch as the other man explains about his shifts, Neron nodding his understanding.
”I suppose I always imagine that Attuned had one shift that was closest to their heart. Their first one, or something like that,” he murmurs, snapping the watch closed and raising an eyebrow at Jata. ”Oh, this? A trinket I found in the Tundra. It doesn’t work - just gives me something to do with my hands.” When they’re not on you goes unsaid. Even so, he clicks the watch open again, surreptitiously looking down at it.
”I suppose I always imagine that Attuned had one shift that was closest to their heart. Their first one, or something like that,” he murmurs, snapping the watch closed and raising an eyebrow at Jata. ”Oh, this? A trinket I found in the Tundra. It doesn’t work - just gives me something to do with my hands.” When they’re not on you goes unsaid. Even so, he clicks the watch open again, surreptitiously looking down at it.
