all that was me, is gone

On near silent wings, the alchemist glided carefully considering the god's words. Ludo, so boyish and young had yet never appeared to him to be so terrifying or steadfast. Had he hands instead of wings, Remi might have raked them through his curls as he'd likely do later on. For now though, he merely trilled a note of understanding, meagre as it was. Then I'll look for you. He vowed, wondering what it was he ought to be feeling now. Relief, for having survived another encounter with the fickle cloaked god? Horrified for how easily he had taken the lives of those men? Joyous that perhaps his life would find purpose, even if that purpose would manifest itself in dark rags that heralded a life to be ended? REMI I wish I could discover something that doesn't expire