He said "I bet you don't remember me"
Remi grins, boyish and sunlit, the expression bright despite the heat clinging to his skin. "I know," he says with a soft laugh. "Ten years." He gives his curls a half-hearted ruffle, glancing toward the pools with a faintly dazed look, like the weight of that time is still settling into his bones. Then, turning back to Maea with a glint in his eye, he adds, "As for what I’m planning—well. Let’s just say I intend to make sure all of our friends are there." The wry tilt of his mouth and the glimmer of something unspoken in his tone say more than he needs to. "You'll see," he adds, because of course she'd be on the guest list.
Her mention of writing to Ronin earns a crooked smile. "Mmm, you might want to pop by and see him in person, just in case," he says with a chuckle. "Our companions like to make paper boats out of our mail. If your letter didn’t end up floating around the harbour, I’d be surprised."
As Maea goes on, Remi hums thoughtfully, the sound one of shared understanding. "The consequences of your actions, hm?" he echoes, his smile dry and knowing. "That’s a familiar kind of ghost." He shifts the canister to his other arm and leans against a tree beside her, his tone softening. " Patterns are like wounds. They don’t close all at once, no matter how much you want them to. Doesn’t mean you’re not healing or changing—just means it’ll take time. And it’s good, Maea. That you’re trying."
The mention of the miracles draws a more genuine surprise, and his eyebrows lift with delight. "Two?" he asks, straightening a little. "That’s amazing. By that score, you’ve contributed more to stopping the Family lately than I have." There's no jealousy in the words—only a warm pride, and the kind of admiration that’s earned, not assumed. "You’ve always had a bit of that in you, I think. Luck wrapped in grit."
Her mention of writing to Ronin earns a crooked smile. "Mmm, you might want to pop by and see him in person, just in case," he says with a chuckle. "Our companions like to make paper boats out of our mail. If your letter didn’t end up floating around the harbour, I’d be surprised."
As Maea goes on, Remi hums thoughtfully, the sound one of shared understanding. "The consequences of your actions, hm?" he echoes, his smile dry and knowing. "That’s a familiar kind of ghost." He shifts the canister to his other arm and leans against a tree beside her, his tone softening. " Patterns are like wounds. They don’t close all at once, no matter how much you want them to. Doesn’t mean you’re not healing or changing—just means it’ll take time. And it’s good, Maea. That you’re trying."
The mention of the miracles draws a more genuine surprise, and his eyebrows lift with delight. "Two?" he asks, straightening a little. "That’s amazing. By that score, you’ve contributed more to stopping the Family lately than I have." There's no jealousy in the words—only a warm pride, and the kind of admiration that’s earned, not assumed. "You’ve always had a bit of that in you, I think. Luck wrapped in grit."
and I said "only ever other memory"
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.
