NERON
the hailstorm
With his senses sharper than those who have not Ascended, it does not take much for Neron to recognise something off in the otherwise silent world around him. The crunch of snow beneath his feet is normal, of course, as is the odd breath of wind. But this...? This is new. Different. Unfamiliar. Stopping to turn in a slow circle - and it feels like the noise follows him - the Hailstorm’s steel blue eyes narrow.
”Hello?” he calls quietly, taking a few steps in the direction that he thinks it might be coming from, only to change his mind, brow furrowing to try and make sense of it. ”I wasn’t aware that the Tundra played these sorts of tricks.” Part of him is worried. The last time something like this happened, the Eirachi was behind it.
”Hello?” he calls quietly, taking a few steps in the direction that he thinks it might be coming from, only to change his mind, brow furrowing to try and make sense of it. ”I wasn’t aware that the Tundra played these sorts of tricks.” Part of him is worried. The last time something like this happened, the Eirachi was behind it.
