The world goes red, as it always does.
If he listens closely he can hear his bones cracking with every movement, his muscles and veins and sinews twisting and shifting and bleeding as he becomes something new. No, himself? This is him.
He can’t remember anymore.
As his foes die before him their final breathes come out in a symphony. Such lovely music to his ears. If he composed this, no one would forget. He wants to hear them. Louder, louder.
The howls grow. His hands are coated with blood.
It hurts, but he continues. It’s what he deserves.
A cool hand touches his shoulder.
“Salieri, it’s enough.”
The Avenger turns, towering over the little Caster who would dare to interrupt him in the midst of his composition. Who do they think they are, with their foolish grin and unkempt blond hair?
Something inside him stirs, but he roars in the Caster’s face nonetheless, rustling his flamboyant clothes with the very sound.
The Caster stubbornly does not move. He tilts his head instead, tapping his chin. “That’s uncalled for. They’re already dead, you know.”
“Kill.” The low growl comes from Salieri, unbidden. “Kill...Kill...”
The Caster goes silent. For a moment...he seems sad, his expression crestfallen.
“...You’re done now.” He takes ahold of one of the Avenger’s large claws, gripping it tenderly. “Come now, you remember. I know you do.”
Ever so slowly, Salieri’s breathing settles. He lowers his head, resting it into the Caster’s soft, silky hair.
The Caster smiles and lifts his hands to cup Salieri’s face.
“Surely you must remember your Wolfgang.”
The choir of screams fade from his mind. For the first time he can feel himself rooted upon the ground. He buries himself into Mozart’s chest, hiding his face.
His voice is so human it scares himself.
“I almost forgot myself.”
Mozart’s fingers thread through his hair.
“Nonsense. You will never forget. I will always be here to help you remember.”
His voice can be so gentle.