[ the coughing and clearing of her throat, and the smell of smoke - not from the blue fire, which, uh, he looks at with trepidation but familiarity at the same time - gives him pause in his tension, and he goes from carrying his axe with him in hand to snapping it into the loop on the back of his belt. it's so he can free up his hands and rummage in his satchel.

from a makeshift cult robe pouch, he produces a few almost spade-shaped, pale green leaves and offers them to her on full autopilot. ] Licorice. Chew on 'em to help your throat.

[ anyways, the question. ]

... no idea. Nobody I've talked to has said that they were able to go anywhere, so I dunno what that means for the two of them. 'specially not with Death.