REMI
the bastion
I've said that hope I'll never find
To my myself I must confide
To my myself I must confide
Wordlessly, as Remi's mouth was filled with teeth of various sizes to the point where he could do little else than grunt or snarl, he pulses affection and appreciation through their bond. Something in Ronin's bow has the Bastion thinking back to their days in Northaven, of training grounds and strolls through impoverished marketplaces, and it has one of his clawed fingers twisting the ring on his left hand.
When it comes to sentient vegetation, Remi's heightened senses don't provide much information for him to go on given how haphazardly the gourds seem to move through their environment and what little emphasis they seem to place on their own survival. Even so, hearing the thud of them bouncing off of roots and slamming through brush has Remi lowering his head slightly as his shoulders hunch forward. Darting forward using his wings to help balance and glide where the trees would allow, the Bastion barrelled into the small clearing Ronin had called the gourds into.
Slicing through the first gourd he came into contact with using only his claws, the fact that most were the size of footballs had the Bastion roaring his impatience as he kicked, slashed, struck, and stomped his way through a handful before pausing to eye a group of floating gourds lingering high up in a tree, merely watching.
I have an idea...
If his size was going to be a problem, then perhaps he could do with it. Shifting entirely, Remi's body became small and round, furred in black and grey. With dexterous and grabby hands he climbed up the nearest tree, his fluffy tail wriggling behind him. Edging out onto a branch, the raccoon poked his nose down, beady eyes locked on one of the floating gourds a few feet below.
Then he jumped for it.
When it comes to sentient vegetation, Remi's heightened senses don't provide much information for him to go on given how haphazardly the gourds seem to move through their environment and what little emphasis they seem to place on their own survival. Even so, hearing the thud of them bouncing off of roots and slamming through brush has Remi lowering his head slightly as his shoulders hunch forward. Darting forward using his wings to help balance and glide where the trees would allow, the Bastion barrelled into the small clearing Ronin had called the gourds into.
Slicing through the first gourd he came into contact with using only his claws, the fact that most were the size of footballs had the Bastion roaring his impatience as he kicked, slashed, struck, and stomped his way through a handful before pausing to eye a group of floating gourds lingering high up in a tree, merely watching.
I have an idea...
If his size was going to be a problem, then perhaps he could do with it. Shifting entirely, Remi's body became small and round, furred in black and grey. With dexterous and grabby hands he climbed up the nearest tree, his fluffy tail wriggling behind him. Edging out onto a branch, the raccoon poked his nose down, beady eyes locked on one of the floating gourds a few feet below.
Then he jumped for it.
That there's no choice outside your mind
when your heart is overthrown
when your heart is overthrown
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.
