[ Rutile bites his lip. It's nice to know, at least, in this moment of tension, that who was once a kind stranger does actually like him. He trusts Shalem, in turn, and he trusts he'll make good on his word, that he knows what he's doing, that no one will die.
He squeezes his eyes shut. He won't haunt him. But he thinks, of prayer: Tell my brother, Figaro, Lennox, I love them. Tell Mithra and the sage I'm sorry.
It scarcely hurts.
The bullet pierces his head and it's over in an instant. But instead of blood that drips from the wound, cracks spread outward across his body, like fine porcelain dropped onto the floor. In its wake blooms a brilliant iridescent blue, shining muted under the dim light of the room.
For a split second, it remains in the shape of Rutile.
In the next second, it shatters. Scattering over the chair and the floor and rolling to Shalem's feet are hundreds of fragments of beautiful mana stones. ]
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2/3??
He squeezes his eyes shut. He won't haunt him. But he thinks, of prayer: Tell my brother, Figaro, Lennox, I love them. Tell Mithra and the sage I'm sorry.
It scarcely hurts.
The bullet pierces his head and it's over in an instant. But instead of blood that drips from the wound, cracks spread outward across his body, like fine porcelain dropped onto the floor. In its wake blooms a brilliant iridescent blue, shining muted under the dim light of the room.
For a split second, it remains in the shape of Rutile.
In the next second, it shatters. Scattering over the chair and the floor and rolling to Shalem's feet are hundreds of fragments of beautiful mana stones. ]