it's a beautiful lie
"Of course I believe in ghosts. When one does not sleep, one sees all the things that are better left in the shadows," Neron says, his voice growing toneless and cold, as if he were speaking into an open grave. Of course, the charade ends soon enough, and he shoots a crooked smile at Deimos and Morgan both. "I was more thinking that it would be of some comfort to anyone we move into this area. To know that the space has been purified by a god, that there's no bAd vIbEs left." He wiggles his fingers, meandering away and into the village at Morgan's behest.
And they've only taken a peek into the first house when all humor evaporates from the conversation. Neron's sense of smell isn't what it used to be, but even he can recognise the tang of copper on the air, and he frowns. His eyes can cut easily through the shadows, but Deimos creates a ball of flame and instinctively Neron shies away. "How many?" he asks.
And they've only taken a peek into the first house when all humor evaporates from the conversation. Neron's sense of smell isn't what it used to be, but even he can recognise the tang of copper on the air, and he frowns. His eyes can cut easily through the shadows, but Deimos creates a ball of flame and instinctively Neron shies away. "How many?" he asks.
it's a perfect denial
such a beautiful lie to believe in
NERON
