[He nods, focusing on the cold of ice. Before too long the touch of her fingers blend in with the magic in his veins. He was never as practiced at ice as he was at fire. It wasn't alive in quite the same way, and he'd always ran hot, but with one element down he had to make due.
The ice frosts over his palm, aimless, before twisting up into a hollow ball. It's not smooth as it fills in, shifting from delicate fractals to a jagged chunk of ice, and the air mists as the cold conflicts with the summer air.]
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The ice frosts over his palm, aimless, before twisting up into a hollow ball. It's not smooth as it fills in, shifting from delicate fractals to a jagged chunk of ice, and the air mists as the cold conflicts with the summer air.]