the hailstorm
Neron watches as Morgan takes and reads the letter; he watches her expression, watches the distaste, the displeasure. However, that still doesn't prepare him for her flat refusal, the Hailstorm raising his eyebrows and straightening up. He doesn't know whether to be offended at her lack of confidence in him or flattered by the fact that, show it or not, she's worried for him. "I wasn't aware that I had officially been offered the position of Spymaster," he drawls with a smirk, before his expression grows more solemn.
"I will come back here alive. There is more to the Ascended than Wessex, and between all of us we will be able to take the monsters on." Softening his voice on purpose, Neron moves to lean against the counter again. "I vowed to help them, Morgan," he says. "I made that promise last year, so I could prioritise Deepfrost in Halo at the time. Neither of us are the type to spurn duty."
Not any more anyway, in Neron's case.
"I will come back here alive. There is more to the Ascended than Wessex, and between all of us we will be able to take the monsters on." Softening his voice on purpose, Neron moves to lean against the counter again. "I vowed to help them, Morgan," he says. "I made that promise last year, so I could prioritise Deepfrost in Halo at the time. Neither of us are the type to spurn duty."
Not any more anyway, in Neron's case.
