the bastion
Maybe I'm a runaway train
Maybe I'm a feather in a hurricane
Maybe I'm a feather in a hurricane
Remi laughs, low and warm, the sound carried off on the lazy hush of wind through the trees. "Not fake," he promises, boyish and fond. "Very much real. I was a good deal more awkward back then. In fact, he was concussed when I proposed to him, you know—" His smile twitches wider, caught somewhere between sheepish and proud. "Came home from fighting something in the Spire, all scraped up and wide-eyed. I panicked and asked him to marry me in the middle of the kitchen." Remi shrugs like the memory is a favourite shirt he’s worn through at the seams. "Romance."
At her wondering about the guild, he nods. "I haven’t seen the one Deimos built, but...he’s not the sort to let something meaningful slip away. If anyone could keep the thread alive, it’s him."
But it’s the way her breath catches, the way her eyes widen, that has Remi softening all over again. The awe in her voice tugs something loose in his chest, and he chuckles gently at her astonishment. "It’s been so long since Mort was anything but a friend to me, I forget sometimes what it means for others," he murmurs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, the bashfulness plain in his lopsided smile. "But yes. You’ll meet her. Properly. And I know she’ll love you. You’re as sharp as your mother, and twice as charming." He grins. "But please don't tell Ashe I said that. I'm sure she still has one hell of a punch."
But her next question dims the light just slightly. Theea’s voice turns quiet, and the ache beneath it is enough to stop Remi’s teasing cold. He doesn’t rush to answer. Instead, he steps forward, arms opening as gently as the forest light, and draws her in close with a tenderness that speaks not just of comfort, but understanding. "If there’s a way to reach her," he says softly, voice thick with all the years and grief wrapped around that name. He tucks his chin lightly atop her head, one hand stroking her back. "If there's a way to reach her, we'd love nothing more than to see her again." He exhales, steady and sure. "But we both know how hard it can be to...to come back."
At her wondering about the guild, he nods. "I haven’t seen the one Deimos built, but...he’s not the sort to let something meaningful slip away. If anyone could keep the thread alive, it’s him."
But it’s the way her breath catches, the way her eyes widen, that has Remi softening all over again. The awe in her voice tugs something loose in his chest, and he chuckles gently at her astonishment. "It’s been so long since Mort was anything but a friend to me, I forget sometimes what it means for others," he murmurs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, the bashfulness plain in his lopsided smile. "But yes. You’ll meet her. Properly. And I know she’ll love you. You’re as sharp as your mother, and twice as charming." He grins. "But please don't tell Ashe I said that. I'm sure she still has one hell of a punch."
But her next question dims the light just slightly. Theea’s voice turns quiet, and the ache beneath it is enough to stop Remi’s teasing cold. He doesn’t rush to answer. Instead, he steps forward, arms opening as gently as the forest light, and draws her in close with a tenderness that speaks not just of comfort, but understanding. "If there’s a way to reach her," he says softly, voice thick with all the years and grief wrapped around that name. He tucks his chin lightly atop her head, one hand stroking her back. "If there's a way to reach her, we'd love nothing more than to see her again." He exhales, steady and sure. "But we both know how hard it can be to...to come back."
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.
