Framed by the eerie blue candle on the dais, Nero's shadow loomed over the guest he had turned to meet, and stretched up the stairs she had descended. "Doctor Nero Nykto, mortemist. The only one left. I am very old here."
Though the stubble faced man appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, his blue (not unlike the flame on his candle) eyes, hinted at someone much older. Taking a moment to look at Jane, the doctor tried to find some hint that she might not be who she said she was, or have some sort of unknown intentions.
Without warning, a hand that held babies during their first breath and men at their last, reached out for Jane.
"You look like you lost your pillow fight." Nero plucked a stray feather from the woman's hair, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
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In over his head |