Out of the Frying Pan

Neron

you're so cold
put your hand in mine

"She certainly has," Neron says in agreement - she's done a lot for the both of them, though he couldn't really see it at the time. Now, though, the Hailstorm is inching closer and closer to the goddess of the Ascended; she has, after all, favoured him more than the Eirachi ever has. Holding up a hand, he gestures for Sam to stop just as they round one of the corners. Ahead of them, a stream of lava blocks the path. With magic whispering at his fingertips, Neron sends water and ice to stop its intensity.

The lava hisses and crackles with a great deal of steam that swamps the area; Neron is left trying to fan it away from their faces. "It certainly does come in handy, though I'm not sure that it's so easy to just not drink from someone." Last Deepfrost had taught him that much. As the steam starts to clear and the way is safe to walk, Neron gestures for Sam to go first.

"Ah, I see," he says. "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm afraid I didn't know her well enough or for long enough to be able to call her a friend. I would have liked to know her better."

wise men wonder
while strong men die