let's not get lost in the dark blue
For a moment, as Maea moves through the space, as her fingers trail over the carved doorframe, as she turns to him with quiet wonder in her expression, Remi feels something shift in his chest. Nostalgia, sudden and unexpected, curls through him like the roots beneath their feet, like the wind threading through the canopy outside. This treehouse is the last piece of the Greatwood he’s still tethered to—the last remnant of a life that, once upon a time, he had thought might be his forever. But that time is long past. And whatever wistfulness lingers, it isn’t enough to outweigh the knowledge that he won’t be the one to bring this place back to life. He has a home elsewhere. A husband to return to. A family to protect.
"You don't need to find something else," he says simply, a small smile pulling at his lips. "It's yours, Maea." His seaglass gaze softens as he looks at her, watching the way she drinks it all in, the way the house is already settling into her, even if she’s too careful to settle into it just yet. "There’s just one condition," he continues, stepping further into the room, his fingers brushing briefly over a carving along the wall—something abstract, something half-forgotten. "If you ever grow out of your need for it, leave it stocked. Keep it supplied, so that the next person who comes through has everything they need."
It’s what the Greatwood would have wanted, he thinks. What he would have wanted, once upon a time. The treehouse had been built for more than one person’s use, and if Maea ever decided to move on, he’d like to think that it would remain what it had always been—a safe place, waiting for someone else to need it.
"You don't need to find something else," he says simply, a small smile pulling at his lips. "It's yours, Maea." His seaglass gaze softens as he looks at her, watching the way she drinks it all in, the way the house is already settling into her, even if she’s too careful to settle into it just yet. "There’s just one condition," he continues, stepping further into the room, his fingers brushing briefly over a carving along the wall—something abstract, something half-forgotten. "If you ever grow out of your need for it, leave it stocked. Keep it supplied, so that the next person who comes through has everything they need."
It’s what the Greatwood would have wanted, he thinks. What he would have wanted, once upon a time. The treehouse had been built for more than one person’s use, and if Maea ever decided to move on, he’d like to think that it would remain what it had always been—a safe place, waiting for someone else to need it.
But darling if we do, just find me, and I'll find 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.
