[SE] Worn-out places

the bastion

Remi exhales slowly, the sound barely more than a whisper against the hush of the graveyard. His fingers still their absent movements, curling briefly against his palm before he forces them to relax. His daughter was many things—brilliant, bold, reckless in the way only the young could afford to be—but cautious? Measured? Not so much.

A meeting with Dahlia, though? Fuck.

His wings shift against his back, a restless movement betraying the tension winding through him that Deimos would nevertheless be treated to thanks to the bond extending between the pair. But she said she'd do it anyway? A quiet, humourless huff of laughter escapes him, because yes. Yes, that sounds exactly like Flora.

Did you get the impression she means to go alone? The thought curls unpleasantly in his chest, cold and sharp. Flora might be many things, but she wasn't a fool—not entirely. Perhaps Jack, then? If she was truly entertaining the idea of meeting with Dahlia, it wouldn't be without reason. His seaglass gaze flickers toward Deimos, searching. Did she say why she was planning on such a thing?

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!