the bastion
Remi acknowledges each arrival with a tired but sincere nod—first to Noah then to Hadama with the faintest raise of his glass, and lastly to Deimos, his expression unreadable for a moment before settling into something faintly wry. The soft weight of Ronin’s hand on his thigh helps tether him; his fingers press lightly overtop in response, a steady point amid the ragged quiet around the table.
When Ronin slides the little jar across to Sunjata, Remi’s mouth curves into the briefest of smiles. You’re always so thoughtful, he murmurs into the bond, not quite teasing, more reverent than anything, even in the midst of a crisis.
But the smile fades as his eyes settle on the bruises still visible across Sunjata’s face. He exhales and straightens a little, rolling his glass slowly between his palms. "I should’ve soaked more of it," he says aloud, voice low and rough. "I slipped. Fell back into old patterns—fighting instead of shielding." His gaze drops to the table as he swirls the gin, the ice clinking softly. "You took more than you needed to because of it. I won’t happen again."
But then Ronin straightens. Remi already knows what’s coming, but hearing it aloud, spoken into the bond with so many minds entwined, brings a different kind of weight. He lifts his head, the movement slow, deliberate. Obviously the flowers are rare, and we’ll still need some for Starfall, he says, gaze sweeping the table. But if they can be used to take out the Family directly… His eyes narrow faintly. ]That might turn the tide and give us some more breathing room.
He lets that sit for a moment before asking, How many flowers do we have? His gaze flicks to each of them in turn—Noah, Deimos, Hadama, Sunjata.
When Ronin slides the little jar across to Sunjata, Remi’s mouth curves into the briefest of smiles. You’re always so thoughtful, he murmurs into the bond, not quite teasing, more reverent than anything, even in the midst of a crisis.
But the smile fades as his eyes settle on the bruises still visible across Sunjata’s face. He exhales and straightens a little, rolling his glass slowly between his palms. "I should’ve soaked more of it," he says aloud, voice low and rough. "I slipped. Fell back into old patterns—fighting instead of shielding." His gaze drops to the table as he swirls the gin, the ice clinking softly. "You took more than you needed to because of it. I won’t happen again."
But then Ronin straightens. Remi already knows what’s coming, but hearing it aloud, spoken into the bond with so many minds entwined, brings a different kind of weight. He lifts his head, the movement slow, deliberate. Obviously the flowers are rare, and we’ll still need some for Starfall, he says, gaze sweeping the table. But if they can be used to take out the Family directly… His eyes narrow faintly. ]That might turn the tide and give us some more breathing room.
He lets that sit for a moment before asking, How many flowers do we have? His gaze flicks to each of them in turn—Noah, Deimos, Hadama, Sunjata.
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
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak
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.
