REMI
Had it not been for the brewing storm it was entirely likely that Remi and Maea's paths might not have crossed, and yet, because of the lightning stretching curious fingers from the darkening clouds, the Lullaby had been forced to walk rather than fly.
When last Remi had laid eyes on Maea he'd been naked and had believed her to be a ghost at best, or a ward to be returned to Mort at worst. The time before that it had been on the Arclight before she'd slipped beneath the waves in a silent twist of fate. Now here she was, transformed thrice over, skirting death at every opportunity. One might have thought her time finally up, but hers was not the name on the paper the Lullaby carried in his pocket, and so from him at least, she was safe.
Not one to shy from the scent of death, Remi nearly thought it was Isla crouched low in the yellow grasses but for the bone-white of the horns that protruded from Maea's skull. It was only the strange porcelain complexion that gave the Lullaby any real clue as to whom he'd just interrupted, and though it seemed utterly impossible that she should be here now, it was all too easy to superimpose the image of a young girl showing him flowers in her garden onto the predator sinking her teeth into her fresh kill.
"Maea?" He ventured softly.
When last Remi had laid eyes on Maea he'd been naked and had believed her to be a ghost at best, or a ward to be returned to Mort at worst. The time before that it had been on the Arclight before she'd slipped beneath the waves in a silent twist of fate. Now here she was, transformed thrice over, skirting death at every opportunity. One might have thought her time finally up, but hers was not the name on the paper the Lullaby carried in his pocket, and so from him at least, she was safe.
Not one to shy from the scent of death, Remi nearly thought it was Isla crouched low in the yellow grasses but for the bone-white of the horns that protruded from Maea's skull. It was only the strange porcelain complexion that gave the Lullaby any real clue as to whom he'd just interrupted, and though it seemed utterly impossible that she should be here now, it was all too easy to superimpose the image of a young girl showing him flowers in her garden onto the predator sinking her teeth into her fresh kill.
"Maea?" He ventured softly.
Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today
Sometimes... I say. But not today
