like home's not so far away

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

The tide is low and the air thick with Longheat warmth as Remi walks barefoot into the surf, the sand hot beneath his soles until the waves cool it into silk. The sun is beginning to dip, casting the sky in amber and rose, but the heat lingers—humming against his skin, catching in the hollows of his collarbones and various scars.

He wears only a pair of dark swimming trunks, soaked to the waistband from earlier dives, and the sea spray kisses hugs his curls that hang loose around his face. Muscles coil and flex as he exhales and reaches out, hands gripping the thick hemp rope that tethers the Northaven further out to sea.
One foot braces in the shallows, then the other, and with the slow grind of stubborn resistance, the ship begins to shift.

The Northaven creaks like an old bone as she comes, hull groaning, groaning—then gliding. Remi pulls steadily, shoulder muscles bunching beneath sun-darkened skin, until the keel scrapes against sand in a low sigh of arrival. It’s not perfect, not docked, but it’s close enough to keep her steady while he works.

He releases the rope and shakes out his arms, water flicking from his wrists. Then he wades around the side of the ship, assessing the damage she's sustained over the past few seasons. A few smaller cracks spider along the hull, and seaweed clings stubbornly in the seams. Dropping into the water with a quiet grunt, Remi runs a hand along the damage. "Alright," he murmurs. "Let’s patch you up."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"One day," Isla says, her voice cutting smoothly through the whisper of surf as the Northaven groans to a halt in the sand, "you're going to put your back out doing shit like that. Or pop a shoulder out of place. And when you do, I'll be there waiting at the clinic with a lecture all ready for you." The stern expression of medical concern she's adopted soon melts into a cheeky smile, the Remedy falling to a halt on the shore, a sunhat shading her eyes from the dying light, a basket hung over one arm.

"Hey," she adds cheerfully. "I heard about what happened at..." She doesn't want to call it a party, so she merely waggles her fingers down the beach in the distance, where Pierce's shindig had taken place. "I brought a few things for you and Ronin, in case you had trouble sleeping or needed some extra healing water. There are also a lot of snacks." Because whilst the Taliesins likely have healing aplenty, they are also perpetually hungry.

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi turns at the sound of her voice, a boyish grin already on his lips before he’s even fully caught sight of her. The ache in his shoulders, the damp weight of the day, the lingering twist of adrenaline—all of it softens as Isla appears on the sand, shaded by her hat and haloed by the sunset.

"Mm, but then what else am I supposed to do?" he calls back, laughter dancing in his voice as he pushes a hand through his wet curls. "Ask five strong deckhands to strain their backs helping me?" The ship creaks behind him in protest, but he ignores it with the same ease he’s always had for stubborn things that love him.

Abandoning the Northaven for now, Remi wades back through the shallows. The water licks at his calves, warm and lazy, and when he reaches dry sand he leans forward—carefully, because he's still damp and Isla looks sun-dried and perfect—and presses a kiss to her cheek. "You spoil us," he murmurs, peering with exaggerated interest into the basket like a curious child. "This is very thoughtful. And very much appreciated. Especially the snacks."

The smile lingers, but his fingers drift through his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp as he glances down the beach. "I should’ve known," he admits with a sigh, his tone somewhere between rueful and fond. "That something would happen at Pierce’s thing. And that my daughter would have had a hand in starting it." A pause, and then a half-shrug. "And yet..." Sighing, Remi shakes his head. "You were wise not to come."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Logic would suggest that, with six of you in total helping to do the work, the strain on your backs would be comparatively minor," Isla says haughtily, though her expression remains open and playful as Remi wades out of the shallows to kiss her cheek. Clearly not minding whether or not she gets damp, she reaches out to wrap an arm around him, hugging him tightly even if only briefly, as if to express her gratitude for his safety. 

Drawing back enough to glance at the basket and lift the blanket covering everything, Remi will find an array of cured meats, cheeses, jams and chutneys, as well as a couple of loaves of artisan bread and some ripe fruits. The more medical-minded of her gifts are tucked at the bottom of the basket, of course, where she knows the Taliesins will inevitably eat their way towards them. "On the contrary," she objects, "I don't think you are spoiled nearly enough. So shut up and enjoy them."

Grinning and handing him the basket, she listens carefully as he speaks about earlier events. "I'm glad no one was seriously hurt. I heard Sunjata got banged up a bit, though. And some may call it wise, others might see it as cowardly. I just... I don't have the thirst for war that I once did. My father used to say that it's possible to see too much of the worst kind of thing. I'm starting to think he was right."

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi’s grin grows crooked, shoulders lifting in a small, amused shrug. "Sure, but then what excuse would I have to come and find my oldest friend?" he counters, voice soft with affection as he leans just slightly into her hug. "Or worse, then I'd have to share your attention, and we all know how bad I am at that." The warmth of her, the grounding comfort she always seems to carry, eases something that’s been coiled in his chest since the beach. He doesn’t say it, but she’ll feel it all the same in all the places her skin presses into his.

As she lifts the blanket, Remi whistles low, genuinely impressed. "Fine," he concedes with a theatrical sigh, accepting the basket. "We'll shut up and enjoy them." He says it lightly, but his gaze lingers on the contents longer than necessary, his mouth already watering.

Then, with the shift in her tone, he shakes his head quickly. "No one would ever dare accuse the Remedy of cowardice." There’s no humour in his voice now—just unwavering certainty. "Sunjata did take a few hits," Remi admits, gaze drifting out toward the surf as guilt flickers in the shadows behind his eyes. "More than he should have. That was on me. I slipped into old habits—fighting instead of protecting." His fingers tighten briefly around the handle of the basket, then loosen again with a breath. "But he’s alright. And Ronin was able to get some of Pierce’s blood on his axe. He gave it to Sunjata, so King’s End will be protected too."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"I'd like to think that, as your oldest friend, the last thing in the world you need is an excuse to come and see me," Isla says with an affectionate nudge to his ribs. "Though it's true that it might be best to call ahead, in case I have other patients and you do need to share my attention. I'd never want to leave you grumpy and impatient." Not to mention the other reasons she might be unavailable, given recent events with a certain aviator, and Remi will be able to feel the flush of pink in her emotions everywhere they still touch.

Nodding with satisfaction as the Bastion accepts her gift basket at last, Isla smooths out her dress and sends small whorls of fire dancing through the air in all the places made damp by Remi's embrace, careful not to singe him. "Yes, well," she says with a scrunch of her nose, "I would, though I am arguably my worst critic." Sighing and looking back up at him, Isla arches an eyebrow as he continues.

"Hey - you all made it out okay," she reminds him. "And Sunjata has a thick skull, and we live in a region abundant with healers and healing water. He'll be just fine, though I can still understand you feeling disappointed in yourself." Reaching out, she gives his shoulder a squeeze (even if it's like trying to offer comfort to a steel beam). "And that's great news, about the blood, though... I suppose this breaks your agreement with Dahlia about not interfering now, doesn't it?"

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi's grin turns positively wolfish at her first remark, but it’s the pink flush in her emotions that has his eyebrows arching even higher. "I thought so too," he murmurs, unable to resist the playful edge in his voice. "Though lately I’ve been hearing quite a bit about how the good doctor and a certain aviator have been spotted out and about. Seaside strolls, whispered laughter, disappearing into curtains at market stalls..." He trails off with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, teasing but fond.

Still, the mirth doesn't completely smother the guilt. Remi’s smile softens as Isla speaks again, and he nods in reluctant agreement. "You’re right. Comparatively, we were lucky. And you’re also right about Sunjata’s head—it’s thicker than my accent used to be." Even so, there’s a thread of tension in his jaw that doesn’t fully leave, not even when she squeezes his shoulder.

At the mention of Dahlia, Remi lets out a long sigh, heavy and weary. "Yeah. Pretty sure that line’s been crossed," he concedes, dragging a hand through his damp curls. "Flora’s got a plan, though. Stay invisible, use the compass, avoid anything that sounds remotely like her name." His smile returns faintly, though it’s laced with worry now. "Ronin made her promise to call if she runs into trouble. Which is good. I just..." His fingers tighten slightly on the basket. "I have to hope she doesn’t waste her channelling on asking Ludo for a blanket in the middle of the night."

He glances sideways at Isla, voice lower now. "She doesn't want to hear it, thinks it isn't a big deal, but gods I just keep waiting to hear her in my head again saying that something has happened, and worse, being in a place Ronin and I cannot get to her."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

Blushing, quite predictably, as Remi catches on about the revival of her relationship with Everest - and swatting playfully at his arm for good measure - Isla nevertheless seems very chipper about the whole thing, rumours (that might be true, she'll never tell) and all. "Listen," she chastises, "I was a unicorn for the entirety of the start of your relationship with Ronin. There are many, many things I saw and heard that I have diplomatically opted to forget, so I'd appreciate the same treatment."

Her smile fades at the lingering guilt she senses lurking beneath his humour, but there's little that can be done for fights already finished. "If nothing else, we both know it won't happen again. You'll carry this like it's something personal until you feel like you've made up for it," she says softly. "But you're alright, yeah? By the sounds of it you did still take a battering yourself, even if it's not as profound as you'd have liked it to be."

The conversation only gets more sober from there, though, and Isla lets out a long sigh herself. "Some of us learn to use bravado to hide our fear," she says slowly. "I know it's easy to argue that Flora has lived a privileged life, having you over her shoulders with the abilities you possess, but... she has died before. She knows what it's like, and I doubt she'd so flippantly flirt with doing it again. She'll call, if she needs you." And Isla believes that, rightly or wrongly.

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi laughs—loud and utterly unguarded—the sound peeling out over the sand like sunlight. He clutches the basket closer to his chest as Isla swats him, ducking as if to avoid another playful reprimand. "All right, all right," he concedes through a grin, his accent curling warmly around each word. "You win. Consider my memory as selective as yours. Completely wiped, in fact." He touches two fingers to his temple with mock solemnity, having had his memories messed with often enough to know what he was offering.

That smile lingers, softer now, less teasing. "Truly," he says, voice gentling, "I’m glad that you and Everest are finding your footing after everything that happened." There’s no envy, no bitterness—just the sincere contentment of someone who’s watched a friend through every storm, and is grateful to see her on calmer waters.

Still, the tide of conversation turns again, and Remi exhales, low and slow. "Flora has called herself functionally immortal because of what Ronin and I can do. And I want to believe that it’s bravado, that it’s just swagger and performance and stubborn pride..." He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. "But I’m not sure anymore. She’s brave. But she’s also reckless. And those things don’t always mix well." There’s a glance toward the ocean, where the horizon still blushes with the last light of day. "Still. You’re probably right." At least, he very much hoped she was.

Wanting to ease the weight of it, Remi smiles again, this time crooked with something more boyish. "Anyway," he adds, "next season makes ten years married to Ronin if you can believe that. Ten. You and Ever are of course invited. I'm just working out he details of the party, but then I'll try and send something official out."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Yes, that's what I thought you said," Isla trills to Remi, her smile already broad and amused as his laughter rings across the beach. It's not a sound she gets to hear all that often any more, and not just because of how busy their respective lives often become. There seems scarce to laugh about lately, especially not openly, unguarded and uncaring of the world and its problems, and Isla relishes this moment for it.

"Thank you," she adds, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "It's different to how it was when he was infected, but... not as different as I think he expected it to be. It's been nice to have time to just... be. And figure it out." Stepping back again, Isla winces a bit as Remi speaks of Flora and the clash of pride and logic and recklessness that undoubtedly all contribute in their own ways to her decisions.

Nodding gently, she lets out a low whistle. "I know a couple of other people like that, you know." She raises her eyebrows up at him knowingly. Not, perhaps, in bragging about being functionally immortal, but certainly both Remi and Ronin have been guilty of the brave and reckless moniker.

Nevertheless, they've still made it to ten years of marriage, it seems, and Isla's mouth falls open to hear as much. "Has it really?" she gushes. "Congratulations, both of you. That's a huge achievement - and of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world." Smiling, she nods over his shoulder at the Northaven, still sadly beached nearby. "Is that why you're giving her a spring clean?"

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi grins, turning his face just slightly toward the kiss on his cheek, expression warm with a kind of older affection that’s grown between them like ivy over time. "I’m glad," he says again, quieter this time. "After everything...you both deserve the time to just be."

As Isla raises her brows and whistles knowingly, Remi makes a show of glancing over her shoulder, the picture of innocence. "Mm, no idea who you could mean," he says lightly, his lips pursed, expression unbothered except for the way his dimples deepen as he tries not to smile. "Though if you ever meet them, do pass along my congratulations for surviving this long."

The tease tapers as she nods toward the Northaven, and Remi follows her gaze. At first, he just hums, like maybe he is giving her a spring clean for the occasion. But then he leans in a little, dropping his voice just enough to make it feel conspiratorial between them. "Not exactly," he admits, mischief returning to the edges of his lips. "I asked Mort to help with an anniversary gift. I’ve got to gather something from every place Ronin and I have lived in Caido." Straightening, his eyes drift toward the ship again, fondness in the slope of his shoulders. "But I thought maybe she could use a clean as well."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Thanks," Isla says with soft affection and a hint of relief. "I'll still be available to help if anyone needs me, of course, but... I might give these big Family get togethers a miss for a while." Emphasis on the capital F; real family get togethers are always a welcome affair. And she follows his oh-so-innocent glance over her shoulder as if she might be able to spot the very person she was definitely talking about, before her blue eyes return to Remi with a mischievous smile. "I most certainly will," she promises him.

Then, with her eyes still on the Northaven, Isla raises a brow as she senses the Bastion lean in close, knowing all too well his body language for huehuehue secrets. "Oho, I see," she whispers back, entirely unnecessarily. "Would you like a hand? Were you planning on collecting a barnacle from this place or something?" she wonders - hence why the houseboat has been dragged mostly ashore.

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi sets the basket down with the same care one might give a gift just unwrapped, then straightens to follow Isla’s gaze toward the Northaven. "I was going to replace one of the boards on the hull," he explains, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "I figured if I took anything more obvious, Ronin would notice." His voice softens into something warmer, more amused. "Keeping secrets from him is hard enough as it is without it involving vandalizing our home."

He tips his head toward the Remedy, mischief glinting like sunlight on water. "The trick, of course, is doing it without taking on too much water in the process. So..." he lifts one brow in quiet invitation, his smile growing boyish and fond, "..if you don’t mind getting a little wet, I’d be glad for a hand." Remi would do all the heavy lifting of course, and while he certainly had the tentacles to pull it off himself, he'd never turn down the opportunity to work with Isla on a project, no matter how small or ridiculous.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Ah, I see," Isla says with a tilt of her head. "So no stealing trinkets or breaking shelving?" Grinning, she gives a slow nod as she hears out Remi's plan, running a keen eye over the boards on the Northaven's hull as if to potentially identify any that might actually need replacing. Of course, she doesn't know the first thing about houseboats or their maintenance, so she's more than happy to follow the Bastion's lead in the matter.

Unable not to wiggle her eyebrows up at him as he speaks again - a little wet, is it? - Isla lets out a peal of laughter and nods, more than willing to assist. "You are lucky that I am always beach ready at this time of year," she says, stepping back a few feet onto the dry sand and taking off her sunhat so she can shimmy out of her dress, revealing a pastel blue bikini beneath. "Alright - let's get to work!" she trills, replacing her hat and padding across the shore and into the shallows.

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood