the offering

the lullaby

We cannot pry into the who's and why's of fate and chance; we make fools of ourselves in even trying to force reason onto hopelessly complex and ever-branching decision trees. In short, let's not ask what brought these two together, at this particular time, and in this particular way. All you need know is this:

Remi is a man on fire. No, that isn't quite right.
Remi is fire.

The tawny wings that stretch from his broad shoulder blades combined with a boyish head of curls might at first suggest someone (or something) angelic. Fire, after all, need not always be a thing of malevolence. The scars that silver his torso and across his neck...those too need not immediately be read violently. Oh but the eyes. From the swaying shimmer of the flames that line his body, Remi regards the knelt figure with a flat sea-glass green stare.

"Do not stop on my account." In a voice that sounded rather melodic (read: Italian) if not subdued, the Lullaby folds his arms comfortably across his flaming torso and gives the figure a polite nod.

Because of the fire, it might also be prudent to mention that Remi is naked, if only because his clothing has entirely burned away.

Every shade of hurt you know
From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!