"You- you do?" Remiel whispered. Most shied away from death. Why would this human want to remember him? Still, Dante looked upon him with a kind of reverence, with- did Remiel dare think it?- desire. The artist considered Remiel like one would eye a piece of artwork they wanted to own. Remiel, who had spanned eons, whose true form was vast beyond comprehension, felt small under Dante's gaze. He wanted to be owned. To be possessed. The primal need that filled him sent tremors through him.
"Of course," Dante breathed, voice heady with unspoken want. Remiel shook at its intensity.
"I- I don't know what to do," Remiel said, feeling helpless and cursing himself for it.
Dante smiled. Remiel would have murdered for that smile. He cringed at the sudden realization, instantly knowing he would do anything for this child, even something completely against his nature.
"Just be yourself," Dante whispered. "Relax."
