but you can never leave

ludo Braved the forests, braved the stone Braved the icy winds and fire Braved and beat them on my own "That is placing a lot of trust in will-o-wisps," Ludo points out, tutting into Remi's ear as if he should know better about things like that. It's with an encouraging nod that the god appreciate's the Lullaby's circling of the not lanterns, and it hums under its breath as it tries to skewer another difference on the end of its blackened fingertips. "This tree," it notes, "has no leaves. The other one does." Clearly Ludo has approved of the offering, but as much would be obvious by virtue of the fact that it is playing Remi's game, and frostbitten hands clap together absently while it continues to look for more discrepencies between the two sketches. "How bold of you to think you always controlled your dreams by default," it remarks, prodding at the paper again. "There is a window missing on this wagon," it informs Remi. "And what is your point? About the dreams?"