Neron
the wind breathes lonely
longing to be seen
longing to be seen
If always all in black counts as interesting or glamorous to Loren, his wardrobe really does need changing up. Still, it's with almost a look of pain that Neron watches him toss the shirt into the bag. He has to prevent himself from swatting his twin away to fix it, reminding himself that his brother knows perfectly well how to do so if he is so inclined. And clearly, he is not inclined. "I see," he says slowly; about the clothes, about the Hollowed Grounds, about it all.
The apology is unexpected and has Neron's steely gaze dropping to the ground, the Hailstorm a carefully closed book compared to the general openness and joviality he's shown around Loren since his stepping down as Warden. "You were going to leave me sick," he says softly. "Why? I could understand it, if I were able to stomach that water from those springs. But I don't understand this."
The apology is unexpected and has Neron's steely gaze dropping to the ground, the Hailstorm a carefully closed book compared to the general openness and joviality he's shown around Loren since his stepping down as Warden. "You were going to leave me sick," he says softly. "Why? I could understand it, if I were able to stomach that water from those springs. But I don't understand this."
sometimes the soul
has days like these
has days like these
