It was quite a beautiful morning. Or at least as close to morning as an infinitely radiant place as Heaven could get. Macabre had his foster home to himself for the time being, as Mr. Arin was out on his own business. He had offered for Macabre to join him, but the coyote declined, instead wanting to take some time alone. He suddenly couldn’t help but feel that it was a bit rude, but his kangaroo host didn’t seem phased by Macabre’s decision. He didn’t feel like putting up with the stares he received from the mid-level Celestials or mortal souls over his appearance. With his external ribs, preferred skull helmet, and down to the very spiritual resonance he emitted, many could see that he was an Infernal.
“Perhaps this would be a good time to get in some practice,” Macabre said, taking a hold of his violin. Music was probably the only thing he recalled he legitimately enjoyed from his life back in his circle of Hell. If only his first exposure wasn’t from his distant mother, who played