LADY DEATH ( grievences )
- the insults and blasphemy continue. @cajunace· is wearing a bastard’s title, borrowed and lacking. he is a small man in an ill-fitted suit and death wants nothing more than to peel it from him, strip by strip, gnawing at the bone until only threads remain stuck between her teeth - only then will she be satisfied.
their ire may be entirely misdirected, or perhaps the name she gives the emotion is misplaced, but she uses his offending ties to the realm to summon him here. he has been masked as death’s harbinger without ever considering that death would come for him. ❝ your soul. ❞ spoken into the space between them so that it echoes, dripping from the endless nothingness that surrounds him as she appears from that shadowed embrace. ❝ - is on loan. ❞
her stance is lax, almost bored. a child at a birthday party they despise simply because they were promised cake - she would venture to describe remy as a treat. ❝ apocalypse never tells any of you the fine print. ❞
the last thing gambit remembered was agony. the claw of horus rending into his flesh with the promise of further evolution. painkillers had been refused, determined mind set to staying conscious. there could be no trust brokered with apocalypse, only a gamble on his hubris. except despite best efforts, remy found himself slipping into the nothingness, his mind crumbling beneath the weight of pain.
it felt like he'd slept a century when he finally cracked his eyes open. finding himself cast into the unknown. a place of oppressive darkness, a gray haze to his well adjusted night-vision. though he sensed something with him, and somehow he recognized it. looming over him — around him. inside of him now. the presence of death.
he wants to ask where they are, ask death to show itself, but settles on a different course. if he could feel the string of fate tied between them, perhaps it could as well, and he rushes to give voice to his thoughts under the sudden apprehension of solitude. the form that manifests before him in answer is nothing he'd expect. all soft curves and sharp eyes. though, with his luck, he really shouldn't be surprised it's a beautiful woman meant to be his end.
❝ gambit only answers t' one man, ❞ he was counting on his poker face now, just stay calm lebeau and you can get yourself out of any jam, practically a life motto. ❝ an' ya lookin' at him l'ange noir. ❞
