everything i knew is turning into ruins in your shadow
"Not easy at all," Remi agrees with a huff of quiet amusement, letting Lyra take the silks without hesitation. "It feels like a test of faith more than anything. You pick what you think is best and hope it doesn’t turn out to be a completely different shade in the daylight." His lips quirk as she inspects the fabric, his sea-glass eyes watching her with mild curiosity.
At her verdict, he glances at the blue again, fingers skimming absently over the smooth weave. "Blue, then." He nods, though he doesn’t move to put the green back just yet. He could still see Mateo in it, LongNight distortions or not.
Her mention of her daughter draws his attention back to her, and he tilts his head slightly. "She likes red?" he echoes, before casting a glance toward the vendor. "Let’s see what else they have, then." Turning back to the stall, he gestures slightly, inviting the merchant’s attention. "Do you have anything in red?"
The merchant—an older woman with keen eyes and a knowing smirk—gives them both an appraising look before reaching beneath the counter to retrieve another roll of silk. This one unfurls in a deep, vibrant red, though the torchlight makes it difficult to tell whether it leans more toward crimson or rust.
Remi hums thoughtfully, holding it up beside the blue. "What do you think? Better for your daughter, or should we keep searching?" He flicks a glance toward Lyra, and then, because old habits die hard, his lips twitch in a wry, playful smirk. "Though if you ask me, red’s a dangerous choice. My son went through a phase of wearing it all the time, and suddenly he thought he was the most important person in the room wherever he went." His voice is warm, teasing, no real weight behind it. "Not that it was entirely untrue, but still."
At her verdict, he glances at the blue again, fingers skimming absently over the smooth weave. "Blue, then." He nods, though he doesn’t move to put the green back just yet. He could still see Mateo in it, LongNight distortions or not.
Her mention of her daughter draws his attention back to her, and he tilts his head slightly. "She likes red?" he echoes, before casting a glance toward the vendor. "Let’s see what else they have, then." Turning back to the stall, he gestures slightly, inviting the merchant’s attention. "Do you have anything in red?"
The merchant—an older woman with keen eyes and a knowing smirk—gives them both an appraising look before reaching beneath the counter to retrieve another roll of silk. This one unfurls in a deep, vibrant red, though the torchlight makes it difficult to tell whether it leans more toward crimson or rust.
Remi hums thoughtfully, holding it up beside the blue. "What do you think? Better for your daughter, or should we keep searching?" He flicks a glance toward Lyra, and then, because old habits die hard, his lips twitch in a wry, playful smirk. "Though if you ask me, red’s a dangerous choice. My son went through a phase of wearing it all the time, and suddenly he thought he was the most important person in the room wherever he went." His voice is warm, teasing, no real weight behind it. "Not that it was entirely untrue, but still."
THE ALCHEMIST
i thought that i'd be ready
but falling isn't steady once you let go
but falling isn't steady once you let go
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.
