salt in the water. sand blowin' in your eyes

Remi doesn't misunderstand, but nor does he comment. It's the sort of thing you're meant to say in such circumstances (hadn't he just done precisely that?), but when you're on the other side of it, there isn't really anything to say in response. Well, thank you, probably, but Remi doesn't.

It's hard to look at Finn, and the Alchemist can only do it for a few moments. He has the sort of face (symmetry aside), that makes Remi feel dangerously close to something he doesn't want to acknowledge. But it's out of a strange kindness that he meets the Spyglass's eyes, before gazing back along their path.  [say]"I suppose it's fortunate that you're able to know that you're in, or have been in, those moments."[/say] Rather than only acknowledging them through the long-lens of time.

[say]"I almost miss the moments of pure survival."[/say] He says, his chin turning just over his shoulder for a moment to see Finn's reaction to this, breath unconsciously held.

[say]”Yes, that’s true...”[/say] Does it help? Finn doesn’t know. Is it better than the alternative? He imagines yes, but he hasn’t yet reached a point where that alternative feels real enough to give it much thought. Remi speaks again, though, and the answer is something that Finn does know. He stares back at the other man, eyes suddenly flinty in the dark, like they’re two shadows in the rain.

[say]”I miss it every day,”[/say] he says quietly, hands moving from is pockets (the little half moons are bleeding by now, not that he’s noticed) and turning up his collar against the harsh breeze. He glances up, as if realising suddenly that the lighthouse is much closer than it was a few minutes ago. [say]”It leaves scars, though. Maybe that’s why we get used to it.”[/say]

Remi watches Finn turn his collar up, quietly wondering what the circumstances are that allow the Spyglass to take care of himself. Half the time he seems entirely content to suffer the elements such that it's strange to see him so mundanely try and make himself more comfortable now. Or perhaps it's just habit.

[say]"Because scars aren't as sensitive?"[/say] Remi wonders. There are places in his body practically devoid of feeling thanks to the heavy built up of scar tissue. To this end, his fingers have risen without his permission to the starburst on his chest. He presses at it beneath his shirt, feeling very little in the way of sensation. [say]"Or just because it's easier?"[/say]

[say]”Mm,”[/say] Finn says, his hands dropping back into his pockets. He rolls his shoulders and neck subconsciously; whether it’s an echo of the way Remi touches his own scars is more likely than not at this point, but Finn says nothing more about it. [say]”Once you learn how to survive that way, it’s not something you turn off.”[/say] He supposes that does equate to it being easier, if he thinks about it.

Falling to a sudden halt on the incline they’re now walking up to the lighthouse, Finn seems to realise he’s gone further than he intended. [say]”I don’t want to intrude on you more than I already have. But I’m glad I was there tonight. Are you going to be alright from here?”[/say]

[say]"Not even something you think to question."[/say] Remi agrees. There's more he was going to say—a memory of a moment with Zariah when he'd heeled at her command despite being more than strong enough to resist—but Finn calls their conversation to a halt. It's..abrupt, but not surprising, he supposes, though there's an echo of disappointment rattling around his soul.

I am too, he wants to say. But...he can't. It feels wrong to be glad of anyone else's presence in that dark moment. It's far too selfish and more importantly, too intimate, to give voice to. But his expression betrays his silence

[say]"I shouldn't get lost on the way."[/say] He replies, turning to face Finn. It isn't a response to what he's said, nor an answer, but that's all par for the course. [say]"Thank you."[/say] Remi says awkwardly, his water-logged lashes made heavy by his bashful stare.

There’s an echo of disappointment in Finn, too, but it’s as though the shutters are coming back down around him again now. As though his brain has said enough and he’s powerless to stop it. He always is, in these moments, and he glances up as Remi turns back, a flicker of a smile on his face that’s gone too quickly. [say]”I should hope not,”[/say] he quips regarding the other man getting home.

The gratitude makes it awkward, however much Finn does appreciate it, and he lowers his gaze and nods, unable to hold the green stare for longer than a second or two. [say]”You’re welcome,”[/say] he says, taking a deep breath in through the nose and nodding his version of a farewell to Remi.

Then he’s simply gone, turned back to walk the path down into Haulani, a shadow slipping into deeper shadows.

~FIN