Blind leading the...

Eventually Remi made it home. When he couldn't say. How...well, he had an idea of that, but none of his senses seemed reliable now. It was pitiful and pathetic, but all Remi wanted to do was cry. He had never felt so defeated, so hopelessly wrong and lost and tattered and broken. But he couldn't. The pain was too great and his shredded eyes were far more eager to produce blood and strange clear fluid than actual tears. And then there was Ianto. His heart wanted to search for him, to seek him out. He'd whistled and thought of the wagon, of the fox. The tune was broken, his lips cracked and the melody an intangible mess, but he'd done it. And he'd waited. But it had only been Zariah and Amalia who had arrived. Now, on what was properly his door, Remi's fingers felt for the familiar locks. At his side was Isla, gently nosing him. She'd protested that he was being a child for not letting her tend to his wounds outside, but all he wanted to be was somewhere he knew he wouldn't be left again. Somewhere inside. Somewhere with Ronin. And so undoing the bolt and shuffling his way inside, Remi collapsed immediately onto the floor, his bandaged head in his hands. Stomping the ground Isla issued a bright whinny to bring the hunter down from wherever he currently was. remi Come on skinny love just last the year Pour a little salt we were never here