REMI
Reaching out for Hotaru feels like what he's expected to do, and yet the strangest feeling of infidelity stays Remi's hand. Perhaps it's the Valkyrie's recent engagement, but more likely it's what the Bastion knows his husband's feelings toward her are. However this ends, if he comes home smelling of fresh tears and Hotaru's scent—in this of all seasons—he can't be sure he'll be able to claw the Knight back from the repercussions of what he's likely to do. What would Remi have to say in his defense, anyway? It's in my nature to comfort those in pain? You didn't see her Ronin, but her tears looked like gold in the light? Still, it gnaws at him, this doing nothing as Hotaru silently weeps for the safety of their daughter such that he's all but primed and ready for the Valkyrie's manipulations.
Lifting his gaze to meet Hotaru’s, Remi manages a fragile, sympathetic smile. In the hush that follows, he can almost imagine they share a secret, something just between them—survivors’ guilt, parental dread, the understanding that sometimes the only way to protect one’s child is by bending the truth until it shatters silently in your own hands. "There’s no shame in panicking," he hears himself say, voice subdued but steady, nowhere near the music that spills from the Valkyrie's lips. "I’ve done more foolish things than I care to count, all in the name of protecting my children." The admission is honest, flecked with regret and humility, and it tastes bitter on his tongue. He hopes it might serve as olive branch, anchor, or both, to whatever Hotaru needs him to be in this moment. "Please don't let yourself think that. What you two have together...that is not something anyone else can give her. It is worth just as much if not more than someone like me who could only answer the prayers of the dead and take a beating."
Shifting his wing in an effort to blanket Hotaru all the more with it, Remi shuffles himself closer to Flora now that it's abundantly clear she isn't going to wake up on her own. "Ru," he whispers, using the nickname carefully as if testing the weight of it in the space between them. The shape of her name is softer than Valkyrie, less formal, and he hopes it might remind them both that they are not strangers, not entirely. "Wake her." His gaze is warm, a pale contrast to the golden light that still clings like a halo around Hotaru. "We'll talk to her together and I'll help her understand, like you said. She will, I think." Would Flora be understandably dramatic about it? Of course she would. But a mother's love...the urge to protect? Even Flora would have to see the reason behind the Valkyrie's actions even if she didn't fully support it.
Somewhere behind his eyes flickers the thought of Ronin, the instinctive recoil at how any of this might look to his husband, but Remi tucks that thought away. Right now, this is about Flora, about a mother’s desperate love, and he will not forsake that cause for fear of misunderstandings later. In the hush that follows, he extends his wing a fraction more, as if to shield them both from the shadows of old hurts, giving Hotaru just enough space to find her courage without making her feel alone. To trust him enough to wake their daughter.
Lifting his gaze to meet Hotaru’s, Remi manages a fragile, sympathetic smile. In the hush that follows, he can almost imagine they share a secret, something just between them—survivors’ guilt, parental dread, the understanding that sometimes the only way to protect one’s child is by bending the truth until it shatters silently in your own hands. "There’s no shame in panicking," he hears himself say, voice subdued but steady, nowhere near the music that spills from the Valkyrie's lips. "I’ve done more foolish things than I care to count, all in the name of protecting my children." The admission is honest, flecked with regret and humility, and it tastes bitter on his tongue. He hopes it might serve as olive branch, anchor, or both, to whatever Hotaru needs him to be in this moment. "Please don't let yourself think that. What you two have together...that is not something anyone else can give her. It is worth just as much if not more than someone like me who could only answer the prayers of the dead and take a beating."
Shifting his wing in an effort to blanket Hotaru all the more with it, Remi shuffles himself closer to Flora now that it's abundantly clear she isn't going to wake up on her own. "Ru," he whispers, using the nickname carefully as if testing the weight of it in the space between them. The shape of her name is softer than Valkyrie, less formal, and he hopes it might remind them both that they are not strangers, not entirely. "Wake her." His gaze is warm, a pale contrast to the golden light that still clings like a halo around Hotaru. "We'll talk to her together and I'll help her understand, like you said. She will, I think." Would Flora be understandably dramatic about it? Of course she would. But a mother's love...the urge to protect? Even Flora would have to see the reason behind the Valkyrie's actions even if she didn't fully support it.
Somewhere behind his eyes flickers the thought of Ronin, the instinctive recoil at how any of this might look to his husband, but Remi tucks that thought away. Right now, this is about Flora, about a mother’s desperate love, and he will not forsake that cause for fear of misunderstandings later. In the hush that follows, he extends his wing a fraction more, as if to shield them both from the shadows of old hurts, giving Hotaru just enough space to find her courage without making her feel alone. To trust him enough to wake their daughter.
Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today
Sometimes... I say. But not today
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.
