Remi
Welcome to the wild, no heroes and villains
Welcome to the war, we've only begun
Welcome to the war, we've only begun
"That's what they all say." The Wendigo mumbles under his breath before another wave of pain stifles the rest of what is currently passing for humour.
Moving where and when he needs to to facilitate his bondage, Remi immediately regrets everything as he feels the full weight of the silver settling against his skin. "It's on, not--" But of course he runs out of time because his bastard of a friend has yanked the blade out and fuck if it didn't hurt coming out just as much as going in.
Snarling forward, his abilities subdued but not his instincts, Remi's lips peel back from his teeth as he snaps in Ronin's direction before his eyes roll back into his head. "Sei fottuto figlio di puttana. Userò i tuoi denti per i dadi e ti schiaccerò il cranio con il mio cazzo che cazzo di bastardo." It's quite colourful, this bout of curses, a few of which the hunter might even understand. With each punctuated threat, black sludge oozes from the wound until the wendigo finally has the good sense to shut the fuck up.
Flopping backward into the snow, Remi reaches for a handful and slams it over his eyes as if the brisk chill might hurry his return to his senses. It doesn't, and so for a long while he just looks like someone's weird sexual snow/bondage fetish recovering from a bit of knife play that went too far.
Moving where and when he needs to to facilitate his bondage, Remi immediately regrets everything as he feels the full weight of the silver settling against his skin. "It's on, not--" But of course he runs out of time because his bastard of a friend has yanked the blade out and fuck if it didn't hurt coming out just as much as going in.
Snarling forward, his abilities subdued but not his instincts, Remi's lips peel back from his teeth as he snaps in Ronin's direction before his eyes roll back into his head. "Sei fottuto figlio di puttana. Userò i tuoi denti per i dadi e ti schiaccerò il cranio con il mio cazzo che cazzo di bastardo." It's quite colourful, this bout of curses, a few of which the hunter might even understand. With each punctuated threat, black sludge oozes from the wound until the wendigo finally has the good sense to shut the fuck up.
Flopping backward into the snow, Remi reaches for a handful and slams it over his eyes as if the brisk chill might hurry his return to his senses. It doesn't, and so for a long while he just looks like someone's weird sexual snow/bondage fetish recovering from a bit of knife play that went too far.
Higher and higher you chase it
It's deep in your blood, go and take it
It's deep in your blood, go and take it
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
