I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi doesn’t move. The slam echoes up through the floorboards like the house exhaling around something stuck in its throat. Ronin and Isla vanish from the room in a flurry of footsteps and breath, but Remi stays seated in the pool of moonlight, spine stiff, palms flat to the floor.
The music box plays on, but it’s different now, too quick, too shrill. The melody was always eerie in its simplicity, but now it stumbles forward like a child running downhill, all momentum and no control. The notes trip over each other, desperate.
Remi’s heart thuds once. Then again, harder.
He leans forward a little, voice low. Barely audible. "You’re alright," he whispers, as if speaking to a cornered animal. "You’re safe. You don’t have to stay here. You can leave, if you want to."
The music falters for half a second, like something listening. "I know a bit about what it is like to—" Then the box flies. It hurls itself across the room with a violence that has nothing to do with old springs or rigged tricks. It crashes into the far wall and bursts apart; plastic shattering, metal guts spilling across the floorboards in a discordant clatter.
Remi flinches back hard, palms skidding on the wood. His breath catches in his throat as he stares up, straight into the corner of the room where one of Isla’s static cameras is mounted, its little red light blinking steadily like it saw everything and has no intention of interfering.
His voice breaks out of him, louder than intended. "Guys?"
The music box plays on, but it’s different now, too quick, too shrill. The melody was always eerie in its simplicity, but now it stumbles forward like a child running downhill, all momentum and no control. The notes trip over each other, desperate.
Remi’s heart thuds once. Then again, harder.
He leans forward a little, voice low. Barely audible. "You’re alright," he whispers, as if speaking to a cornered animal. "You’re safe. You don’t have to stay here. You can leave, if you want to."
The music falters for half a second, like something listening. "I know a bit about what it is like to—" Then the box flies. It hurls itself across the room with a violence that has nothing to do with old springs or rigged tricks. It crashes into the far wall and bursts apart; plastic shattering, metal guts spilling across the floorboards in a discordant clatter.
Remi flinches back hard, palms skidding on the wood. His breath catches in his throat as he stares up, straight into the corner of the room where one of Isla’s static cameras is mounted, its little red light blinking steadily like it saw everything and has no intention of interfering.
His voice breaks out of him, louder than intended. "Guys?"
but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
