with our mythical madonnas still walking in their shades
"You sure seem to put a lot of energy into cursing my name, Ghondor."
"At least half because you insist on calling me mine, Minoth."
How long had it been since someone had bitten off those unlikely, unseemly syllables with such venom as that? That was the thing about Aionios: it didn't have history, didn't have myths. Just had Moebius, the ultimate beings of non-substance.
That was part of what enchanted him about the Vandhams, since they were the closest thing Aionios at large had to an actual legacy. A playwright couldn't help but love a legacy.
(...and a family.)