but you can never leave

ludo Braved the forests, braved the stone Braved the icy winds and fire Braved and beat them on my own Remi gets what he expects - the raggedy god wraps itself around him like a shawl, but there's no cold press of a porcelain mask against his cheek. No, it's the pale flesh of the youth whose form Ludo takes when with the Lullaby, and it hums a note of both curiosity and approval at the game its chosen has brought. "You could, sweetling, but I may have already lifted that information from your mind," it points out, good natured enough. Then, reaching out, black fingers tap at the picture Remi has drawn on the left. "There are no lanterns on this wagon," Ludo announces proudly, the smile of a child audible in its voice. "Which makes it a terrible wagon to begin with, and so all other differences are moot."