Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song
As the door sighs open, Remi’s breath catches in his throat. Omphalos is nothing like he expected. No writhing horrors, no humming machinery, no pulsing pods or half-formed nightmares; just a chamber so quiet and still that even his heartbeat feels too loud for it. The air is ancient, stale in the way mausoleums are stale, steeped in a kind of reverence that prickles along his skin even if it is all a bit anticlimactic.
He steps inside with a kind of instinctive awe, shoulders hunching ever so slightly as if the ceiling might lower itself in reprimand for any sudden sound. The cracked stone at the centre draws his eye immediately like a wound in the floor, edges fractured outward from where something heavy had been torn free. Remi glances back at Ronin, widening his eyes in a theatrically hushed don’t disturb the dead expression, as if they’re sneaking into a forbidden library rather than the hollow heart of a fallen alien race. When he speaks, it’s a whisper despite himself, the sound barely a breath. "I am sure this was meant to be...very impressive." Or maybe they weren't ever supposed to live long enough to see it.
He drifts closer to the centre, but stops short of the crack, something cautious tugging at his spine. His fingers flex as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch the stone. "What do you think used to be here?" he murmurs, turning slightly toward Ronin.
He steps inside with a kind of instinctive awe, shoulders hunching ever so slightly as if the ceiling might lower itself in reprimand for any sudden sound. The cracked stone at the centre draws his eye immediately like a wound in the floor, edges fractured outward from where something heavy had been torn free. Remi glances back at Ronin, widening his eyes in a theatrically hushed don’t disturb the dead expression, as if they’re sneaking into a forbidden library rather than the hollow heart of a fallen alien race. When he speaks, it’s a whisper despite himself, the sound barely a breath. "I am sure this was meant to be...very impressive." Or maybe they weren't ever supposed to live long enough to see it.
He drifts closer to the centre, but stops short of the crack, something cautious tugging at his spine. His fingers flex as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch the stone. "What do you think used to be here?" he murmurs, turning slightly toward Ronin.
the bastion
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.
