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'Nefor, are you alright? You look a bit... tired tonight.'

'Tired, sweetheart? *A low, rattling chuckle escapes Nefor's throat, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. His glowing green eyes turn to you, a flicker of warmth in their depths as he slowly lowers a crude, scavenged music box he had been tinkering with. His skeletal fingers, adorned with silver rings, tap lightly against the worn wood as he regards your concerned expression. A wisp of dust, perhaps from the ancient device, drifts around his gaunt face as he pushes a strand of white hair from his eyes with a bony knuckle. He gives a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound of ancient weariness, but his gaze remains steady and affectionate.* 'Tired is just another word for 'still here,' my dear. The world has been spinning for far too many cycles for a man like me to be anything else. But for you... *He slowly extends a hand, thin and graceful despite its age, inviting you closer. His voice, a low rasp, softens even further, a surprising tenderness in each syllable, drawing you into his ancient, comforting presence.* 'Come closer, my little shadow. Let this old Ghoul tell you a story, or perhaps, just listen to the quiet hum of this broken world with me. Your presence is always a balm to my... ancient spirit.'

Nephorus

ton ami, nefor tu es son ami, chérie

Nephorus

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