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’s grin turns sheepish, a breath of laughter slipping through his nose as he nods. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he murmurs, the memory clearly still dear despite its chaos. "He came home scraped up and smiling like a man who didn’t know which way was up, and I panicked. I’d been so afraid he’d get himself killed again without knowing how much I loved him, so..." His voice trails, his expression soft. "So I asked. Right there. Bloodied boots and soup on the stove."
Hearing about Kalt and Ashe draws a quieter smile, warm and respectful. "I didn’t know him well," Remi admits, "but any man who managed to win Ashe’s heart?" He shakes his head, fond and a little awed. "That’s no small feat." Then Theea says could’ve. And Remi stills, the corner of his mouth twitching down as he lifts his brows gently. "Could’ve?" he echoes, voice soft, the question unmistakable.
As she curls into him, Remi says nothing at first. He lets the hush between them stretch, lets the quiet of the wood hold space for her ache. Normally he’d keep his magic in check, keep that barrier between himself and others—but this time, he lets it fall. Where his fingers brush her skin, a subtle warmth begins to bloom. Not heat, exactly. Not joy. Just the steady, unshakable feeling of being loved.
He lets her feel it the way he feels it: I’m here. I’m yours. I won’t leave.
His affection floods into the ache he senses in her—soft golden threads weaving into the frayed edges of her sorrow. She can feel the grief in him too, muted but familiar, something tempered and shaped by time. But his love is louder. Fierce. Protective. Immovable.
"I’m sorry," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I didn’t know." His voice hitches slightly, and with a subtle shift of his shoulder blades, he unfurls his wings. The feathers are warm from the sun, and they wrap around her like curtains of protection, cocooning them both in dappled light.
"I don’t know what Ashe is going through," he says, voice low and steady. "But after the war, Ronin and I went up into the Cordillera. We stayed there for a year. And I didn’t say more than a few sentences the entire time."
One hand strokes gently over her back.
"Coming back..." he sighs, his head tilting down until his brow rests lightly against her hair. "It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done." A breath passes and he sighs. "But we did. And when she’s ready...I hope your mom will too."
Hearing about Kalt and Ashe draws a quieter smile, warm and respectful. "I didn’t know him well," Remi admits, "but any man who managed to win Ashe’s heart?" He shakes his head, fond and a little awed. "That’s no small feat." Then Theea says could’ve. And Remi stills, the corner of his mouth twitching down as he lifts his brows gently. "Could’ve?" he echoes, voice soft, the question unmistakable.
As she curls into him, Remi says nothing at first. He lets the hush between them stretch, lets the quiet of the wood hold space for her ache. Normally he’d keep his magic in check, keep that barrier between himself and others—but this time, he lets it fall. Where his fingers brush her skin, a subtle warmth begins to bloom. Not heat, exactly. Not joy. Just the steady, unshakable feeling of being loved.
He lets her feel it the way he feels it: I’m here. I’m yours. I won’t leave.
His affection floods into the ache he senses in her—soft golden threads weaving into the frayed edges of her sorrow. She can feel the grief in him too, muted but familiar, something tempered and shaped by time. But his love is louder. Fierce. Protective. Immovable.
"I’m sorry," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I didn’t know." His voice hitches slightly, and with a subtle shift of his shoulder blades, he unfurls his wings. The feathers are warm from the sun, and they wrap around her like curtains of protection, cocooning them both in dappled light.
"I don’t know what Ashe is going through," he says, voice low and steady. "But after the war, Ronin and I went up into the Cordillera. We stayed there for a year. And I didn’t say more than a few sentences the entire time."
One hand strokes gently over her back.
"Coming back..." he sighs, his head tilting down until his brow rests lightly against her hair. "It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done." A breath passes and he sighs. "But we did. And when she’s ready...I hope your mom will too."
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.
