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Fugacious

"I want to be myself," he said, not entirely sure just who he was. But that didn't matter - the fact that he was not going to ever get the chance to figure it out was what was slowly frightening him. But he was not a coward, was not going to back away... He would not be like the other...

"Perhaps, later, when this is done, she can make you back," Vexen replied, petting the top of the replica's head, running his fingers down through hair like spun silver. "And you can be here with me again - you can learn more of the darkness."

"Yes," the replica answered moving into the caress, wondering just what his creator had in store for the fleeting time they had left together. Surely after letting the witch touch him, thought the replica, Vexen would not be able to act the same.

"At least someone had good taste in clothing for you," Vexen commented, running a hand lower to trail over young muscle. "You wouldn't be so impressive wearing black like us."

"I wish I could say that I'll miss this, but I won't be able to miss this, will I?" The replica pulled away, crossing the nearly empty room to settle onto a stuffed bench.

"No," Vexen said. "Any memories we make will be mine alone."