the lullaby
"Who said death was meant to be painful?" Remi wonders, sounding vaguely bemused. "If I am to collect you when your time comes, you can take it up with Mort in the afterlife if you disagree with my methods." He adds with a small shrug.
Folding his arms comfortably across his chest and raising an eyebrow, the Lullaby's posture gives little indication of whether or not he's inclined to grant this request of Chaele's, or not. It seems equally as likely that he might have the flames rise up to drown her, as it is that he might make her task all the easier, or in fact do nothing at all. Not even Remi knows what he might do in the moment; recept memory loss and years of violence have made him unpredictable at the best of times.
However, as the shaman shrugs out of her cloak, the alchemist's expression changes noticeably. Looking at her now with great interest, the Lullaby's gaze is not focused out of lust, but is more like that of an artist studying a newly revealed work of art. Her scars seem to him nearly as violent as his own and perhaps just as purposeful if not far more aesthetically pleasing. That they were so, has Remi swallowing and tilting his chin up, as if to keep some building emotion caged in the back of his throat.
"In your own time." He offers, his voice shockingly gentle.
Folding his arms comfortably across his chest and raising an eyebrow, the Lullaby's posture gives little indication of whether or not he's inclined to grant this request of Chaele's, or not. It seems equally as likely that he might have the flames rise up to drown her, as it is that he might make her task all the easier, or in fact do nothing at all. Not even Remi knows what he might do in the moment; recept memory loss and years of violence have made him unpredictable at the best of times.
However, as the shaman shrugs out of her cloak, the alchemist's expression changes noticeably. Looking at her now with great interest, the Lullaby's gaze is not focused out of lust, but is more like that of an artist studying a newly revealed work of art. Her scars seem to him nearly as violent as his own and perhaps just as purposeful if not far more aesthetically pleasing. That they were so, has Remi swallowing and tilting his chin up, as if to keep some building emotion caged in the back of his throat.
"In your own time." He offers, his voice shockingly gentle.
Every shade of hurt you know
From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
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.
