It's funny how reflections change

remi When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours He had killed his own mother— —no she was dead already it was just a— —and the lion had tasted it and the blood tasted good and— —a trick, it wasn't real it couldn't have been real— —the lion could taste it even now and the taste swamped out any thoughts the alchemist had, or was trying to have. Remi felt caged inside his own mind, watching through horrified eyes as his senses were completely overwhelmed by this predatory beast that he'd never before experienced. Hawks were predators to be sure, but now he was inside a body meant for killing more than just small game. As the man fell backwards, the lion licked its lips. There was no where to run, no where to go. Zero could shuffle as much as he pleased. But I am going to hurt you. Remi heard himself think, and while the mental voice had the same musical cadence of his normal accented speaking voice, it was far more guttural and primal sounding. There is no later, the predator continued, slinking forwards. There is only now. Launching himself forward, the lion aimed his front paws directly for Zero's throat, just as it had done only hours ago with the woman who had appeared to be his mother. Rallying with whatever strength and sanity he still possessed, Remi threw himself to the forefront of his mind. As he did so, his body contorted in midair—muscles shrinking and the more athletic build of the alchemist somehow being carved out of the tawny and muscular body of the lion—Remi hit the wall (and possibly Zero) with a muffled and pained wmmphhghghfffff. Without fur to cover it, the claw marks on his rib cage and legs were much more pronounced as were the cuts on his mouth. Remi's sides heaved in air as he scrambled to rise on unsteady and shaky legs. Staggering backwards like a man more than slightly intoxicated, he flailed his arms for balance even as claws reasserted themselves on his outstretched fingers. "Please—" He gasped breathlessly, the ruthless and deadly voice of the lion gone, now replaced with the oddly accented but gentle voice of the alchemist. "I cannot—" His sandy curls grew tawny and furred as mane threatened to sprout from his eyes. Squeezing his sea-glass green eyes shut and tensing his stomach as if to resist bile from rising, he held out a warning hand with pronounced claws on it. Backing up until his back, bloody as it was, struck the wall, Remi let out the air he'd been holding. "—I cannot hold it much longer. Please, you have to go. I will be fine—" He wouldn't though, but that had nothing to do with whether or not Zero stayed or left. Remi had killed someone, and whether or not it was a trick of a God or not, it was real enough for the grief and overwhelming burden of his failure to be irrevocably imprinted on his soul.