the bastion
Maybe I'm a runaway train
Maybe I'm a feather in a hurricane
Maybe I'm a feather in a hurricane
The skyship cuts its slow descent over the Hollowed Grounds, drifting in silence save for the faint creak of its hull and the rustle of summer wind. Below, a broken ring of islands rises from the dense underbrush—shaggy with wild growth and thick with brambles, the terrain looks more like something clawed back from wilderness than a place people once lived. The ruins Remi remembers are long swallowed by green, but still he searches for their ghosts.
He'd opted to take a skyship with Theea rather than fly her himself so that they could chat over the duration; as a winged beast the journey would have been comfortable for her but Remi wouldn't have been able to talk, and had he held his niece in his arms, the closeness might have been a touch overwhelming given that they were just getting to know one another.
He steps lightly from the ship once it touches down, boots meeting soft moss and half-buried stone. The air is warm and humid, clinging to his skin like a second layer; a far cry from the salt-slick breezes of Torchline, but no less relentless. "This all used to be streets and buildings," Remi murmurs, half to himself and half to Theea as he ducks under a low-hanging branch. "Cracked cobblestone, flickering lanterns...you could hear someone fighting off a boggart three streets over if you listened hard enough."
He glances back to make sure she’s following, brushing aside a curtain of thorned vines with his forearm. "The Monster Hunter’s Guild sat on the edge of the ruins, near the treeline back then. Rustic place. Always smelled like smoke and wet fur." The faintest smile touches his lips, though it flickers with a kind of distant, sun-faded affection.
Pushing forward through a thick knot of undergrowth, he pauses at what might’ve once been a stone foundation, now half-buried and furred over with moss. "And now…" Remi exhales, placing a hand on one of the worn stones, sea-glass eyes scanning the green-choked island. "Now it looks like its all been reclaimed."
He'd opted to take a skyship with Theea rather than fly her himself so that they could chat over the duration; as a winged beast the journey would have been comfortable for her but Remi wouldn't have been able to talk, and had he held his niece in his arms, the closeness might have been a touch overwhelming given that they were just getting to know one another.
He steps lightly from the ship once it touches down, boots meeting soft moss and half-buried stone. The air is warm and humid, clinging to his skin like a second layer; a far cry from the salt-slick breezes of Torchline, but no less relentless. "This all used to be streets and buildings," Remi murmurs, half to himself and half to Theea as he ducks under a low-hanging branch. "Cracked cobblestone, flickering lanterns...you could hear someone fighting off a boggart three streets over if you listened hard enough."
He glances back to make sure she’s following, brushing aside a curtain of thorned vines with his forearm. "The Monster Hunter’s Guild sat on the edge of the ruins, near the treeline back then. Rustic place. Always smelled like smoke and wet fur." The faintest smile touches his lips, though it flickers with a kind of distant, sun-faded affection.
Pushing forward through a thick knot of undergrowth, he pauses at what might’ve once been a stone foundation, now half-buried and furred over with moss. "And now…" Remi exhales, placing a hand on one of the worn stones, sea-glass eyes scanning the green-choked island. "Now it looks like its all been reclaimed."
Maybe it's a long play game
But maybe that's a good thing
But maybe that's a good thing
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.
