it's a beautiful lie
Neron automatically moves to pay a little more attention when Morgan does go to try the door, his magic buzzing in his fingertips, ready for whatever might be lurking inside. Or at least that's what he tells himself; when the door does open and the horror within peeks its greasy little face out, it takes a couple of seconds at the very least to even realise what he's seeing. "Uh," he begins, then glances at Deimos.
General, he wants to say, shouldn't you be like... General-ing about now or something. Of course he doesn't, because either Deimos would step on him and he'd be dust, or Morgan would turn him to stone with a glare. So Neron steels himself and steps forward, raising a hand and letting ice start to creep up from the ground before them. He's ready to either launch an assault or to raise a defensive wall.
"Yeah, I don't think that sounds like a good idea," he drawls. "Who are you? Are there any others in there with you?"
General, he wants to say, shouldn't you be like... General-ing about now or something. Of course he doesn't, because either Deimos would step on him and he'd be dust, or Morgan would turn him to stone with a glare. So Neron steels himself and steps forward, raising a hand and letting ice start to creep up from the ground before them. He's ready to either launch an assault or to raise a defensive wall.
"Yeah, I don't think that sounds like a good idea," he drawls. "Who are you? Are there any others in there with you?"
it's a perfect denial
such a beautiful lie to believe in
NERON
