This scar I can't reverse, when the more it heals the worse it hurts
"It isn't an honour." Remi barks with a laugh. While Amalia is the golden of them, winged, beautiful, full of light and life, the Lullaby is the exact opposite. Though his wings are tawny as they spread from his back, he is nothing that even slightly resembles the Archangel. Once reluctant in what he'd been made into, kind, despite the honorific of death, now he embraced it. And why not? His star, Fallen or Dark, had turned away from him. And on this, the Longest of Nights, he'd lost his guiding light.
Reaching for the sledgehammer, the beautiful glow of it carving ghastly shadows on Remi's face and body, he raises it that he might beat it against the cracks over, and over, and over again.
Shocks, explosions—come what may, he won't stop. Because it isn't an honour. It's an obligation
Reaching for the sledgehammer, the beautiful glow of it carving ghastly shadows on Remi's face and body, he raises it that he might beat it against the cracks over, and over, and over again.
Shocks, explosions—come what may, he won't stop. Because it isn't an honour. It's an obligation
REMI
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.
