REMI
Remi's tongue has begun to grow barbs, and though the back of his throat is dry, he's begun to salivate. With a predatorily dark gaze, the Lullaby senses into the woods more than he sees into them. What part of his brain it is that is calculating, correcting, and guiding him forward, he has no idea. All he knows is that there is a seamless connection between what his morphed-nose smells, the tastes on his entirely unhuman tongue, and the sounds which ripple almost undistinguished on the breeze.
His prey is close now.
The part of his mind making him such an expert tracker is also the part blocking out Ronin's face, replacing it with something without dimension. That part of his mind thinks of the Star as an animal to be ravaged, to be torn into with teeth and claws. It excites him, this thought of pressing warm and thundering flesh into the earth, of smelling the irresistible mixture of blood and soil, made bright by the rising sun.
The flash of bare skin, still tanned from a year in Torchline ignites Remi's pace and sets his heart racing. Without sound or vocal warning, the beastly Lullaby races across the woods toward the huntsman. With feelings entirely blended, Remi wanting to feel Ronin beneath him, to press him into the ground but not in the same ways his instincts do, the alchemist lunges. He aims a hand for Ronin's shoulder, wanting to shove him against a tree, or, should the Star try and bolt, to trip him onto the soft mossy ground. Either way, it will hopefully be with clawed hands that he pins Ronin there, digging his claws either into the bark on either side of the Star's shoulders, or into the thick loam.
His prey is close now.
The part of his mind making him such an expert tracker is also the part blocking out Ronin's face, replacing it with something without dimension. That part of his mind thinks of the Star as an animal to be ravaged, to be torn into with teeth and claws. It excites him, this thought of pressing warm and thundering flesh into the earth, of smelling the irresistible mixture of blood and soil, made bright by the rising sun.
The flash of bare skin, still tanned from a year in Torchline ignites Remi's pace and sets his heart racing. Without sound or vocal warning, the beastly Lullaby races across the woods toward the huntsman. With feelings entirely blended, Remi wanting to feel Ronin beneath him, to press him into the ground but not in the same ways his instincts do, the alchemist lunges. He aims a hand for Ronin's shoulder, wanting to shove him against a tree, or, should the Star try and bolt, to trip him onto the soft mossy ground. Either way, it will hopefully be with clawed hands that he pins Ronin there, digging his claws either into the bark on either side of the Star's shoulders, or into the thick loam.
Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today
Sometimes... I say. But not today
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.
