Location: Niflheim
Skills:Water manipulation
Unsure where to begin or how to answer, for what seemed like a long moment Gerric just stood and stared blankly at Lara. A faint hit of confusion stuck to that frozen face of his. Now that he was unmoving the shivers where undeniable. He wasn’t sure if her first question was a real one or if simply the frost had already started to settle on his brain. The thought that Arnora was behind him, someone he hadn’t seen in many many years, pulled at his focus and caused a whirlwind of emotions to plague him.
“
Wh, What!?” Gerric finally responded to the blonde woman incredulously as he denied her advances to aid his injury with a waving hand.
Sceptically he found words enough to answer that which he believed too obvious to need explanation. His words came drawn out and slightly slurred, slipping between chattering teeth and through tired numb lips.
”I was fighting. was his first and complete answer, speaking as though those three simple words covered everything. He continued on to the next, a pitying look in his eyes.
”Yer never had the cold in your bones before have you?” he asked without really asking.
”Were I not a son of Aegir, and fool enough to follow your advice, the cold would put me to a sleep I’d never wake from. No amount of walking could distance me from that fate, especially here. I am of the sea and lands of snow and still I have never known a chill like that of Niflheim.” Then he pauses before adding in with a coy smile.
”Besides, everyone knows huddling naked is the best way to warm a body.” Proving he had no intent to get naked, he threw his arms out wide and closed his eyes in concentration. Before his feet a small pool of water would appear as he tried to drag all the moisture out of his clothes, essentially drying the freezing cold fabrics with his father-given magic.
Despite his best efforts it was all too late for him. The ice of Niflheim had sunken deep into his bones. His body temperature had dropped drastically, and here, in this cold dark cave, being watched over by some of the fiercest and most merciless of creatures, Gerric would not find aid. Had he the strength he’d spend the last of it to stab Anora through the back. But he didn’t.
His limbs were weak, his head heavy and his mind sluggish. Darkness encroached upon his vision, his use of magic draining his life as quick as the cold he sought to remove.
It was not an honourable death, nor a brave or mighty one. He’d rather have gone out to the blade of a drugar, fang of the world serpent or tentacle of the kraken. But just like his life, his death did not go how he planned. This time there would be no valkerie, this time the darkness would be final.
With no words of warning, just a battering of his eyelids, Gerric slumped against the rocky wall and slid down to the hard unforgiving floor, falling into his last and final sleep.
