the bastion
And if the sky grows heavy
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright
The weight of his conversation with Mateo still sat heavy in his chest as Remi made his way through the darkened streets of Torchline, the hush of LongNight pressing in close. The sea murmured its endless song against the shore, distant laughter and the crackle of bonfires threading warmth through the night. But it all felt distant—muted—like he was walking through the memory of something rather than the thing itself.
And then—light.
It was unmistakable, even from this far away. Ronin’s Smite didn’t just glow; it tore through the dark like a star falling from the heavens. Remi’s body moved before his mind caught up, his breath catching as his wings unfurled in an instant, beating against the night air as he took off.
The moment his feet touched the sand, he was at Ronin’s side, drawn to him like a tide to the moon. But what he saw—what lay beneath the glow of his husband's magic—stole the air from his lungs.
Seren.
Not sleeping. Not unconscious.
Cold.
The kind of cold he knew too well even if he no longer took care of such things for Ludo, knew it to be the kind that seeped into bones and turned warmth into nothing, the kind that couldn’t be undone but for the magic used on Maea and Flora..
Then came a memory that nearly sent Remi to his knees: blood-warm skin cooling against his own. A laugh turned to silence. A body cradled against him, unmoving, pinned by ice.
His fingers flexed, curling into fists before he realized they were shaking. His breath left him in a shudder as his gaze flicked from Seren’s face to Ronin, to the desperate tinge in his husband's voice. For a split second, all Remi could see was himself, kneeling in the snow, lungs burning, mouth shaping a name that would never be answered, only to find himself on this very beach nearly a decade before.
Remi's throat worked around words he didn’t know how to say. Instead, he did what he always did—moved. Knelt beside Ronin, hands hovering, unsure where to touch, where to help. "We'll call Vi," he murmured, voice taut with something raw, something breaking apart at the seams that he valiantly tried to hold together. "Or Mort. They'll..."
But no, for it was LongNight, and no matter the tether that bound their souls to the gods of death and life, their prayers would go unanswered until the sun rose again, which would be too late.
"...they'll..."
And then—light.
It was unmistakable, even from this far away. Ronin’s Smite didn’t just glow; it tore through the dark like a star falling from the heavens. Remi’s body moved before his mind caught up, his breath catching as his wings unfurled in an instant, beating against the night air as he took off.
The moment his feet touched the sand, he was at Ronin’s side, drawn to him like a tide to the moon. But what he saw—what lay beneath the glow of his husband's magic—stole the air from his lungs.
Seren.
Not sleeping. Not unconscious.
Cold.
The kind of cold he knew too well even if he no longer took care of such things for Ludo, knew it to be the kind that seeped into bones and turned warmth into nothing, the kind that couldn’t be undone but for the magic used on Maea and Flora..
Then came a memory that nearly sent Remi to his knees: blood-warm skin cooling against his own. A laugh turned to silence. A body cradled against him, unmoving, pinned by ice.
His fingers flexed, curling into fists before he realized they were shaking. His breath left him in a shudder as his gaze flicked from Seren’s face to Ronin, to the desperate tinge in his husband's voice. For a split second, all Remi could see was himself, kneeling in the snow, lungs burning, mouth shaping a name that would never be answered, only to find himself on this very beach nearly a decade before.
Remi's throat worked around words he didn’t know how to say. Instead, he did what he always did—moved. Knelt beside Ronin, hands hovering, unsure where to touch, where to help. "We'll call Vi," he murmured, voice taut with something raw, something breaking apart at the seams that he valiantly tried to hold together. "Or Mort. They'll..."
But no, for it was LongNight, and no matter the tether that bound their souls to the gods of death and life, their prayers would go unanswered until the sun rose again, which would be too late.
"...they'll..."
If the ground gives way beneath us,
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you
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.
