Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you
Remi turns at the sound of her voice, a boyish grin already on his lips before he’s even fully caught sight of her. The ache in his shoulders, the damp weight of the day, the lingering twist of adrenaline—all of it softens as Isla appears on the sand, shaded by her hat and haloed by the sunset.
"Mm, but then what else am I supposed to do?" he calls back, laughter dancing in his voice as he pushes a hand through his wet curls. "Ask five strong deckhands to strain their backs helping me?" The ship creaks behind him in protest, but he ignores it with the same ease he’s always had for stubborn things that love him.
Abandoning the Northaven for now, Remi wades back through the shallows. The water licks at his calves, warm and lazy, and when he reaches dry sand he leans forward—carefully, because he's still damp and Isla looks sun-dried and perfect—and presses a kiss to her cheek. "You spoil us," he murmurs, peering with exaggerated interest into the basket like a curious child. "This is very thoughtful. And very much appreciated. Especially the snacks."
The smile lingers, but his fingers drift through his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp as he glances down the beach. "I should’ve known," he admits with a sigh, his tone somewhere between rueful and fond. "That something would happen at Pierce’s thing. And that my daughter would have had a hand in starting it." A pause, and then a half-shrug. "And yet..." Sighing, Remi shakes his head. "You were wise not to come."
"Mm, but then what else am I supposed to do?" he calls back, laughter dancing in his voice as he pushes a hand through his wet curls. "Ask five strong deckhands to strain their backs helping me?" The ship creaks behind him in protest, but he ignores it with the same ease he’s always had for stubborn things that love him.
Abandoning the Northaven for now, Remi wades back through the shallows. The water licks at his calves, warm and lazy, and when he reaches dry sand he leans forward—carefully, because he's still damp and Isla looks sun-dried and perfect—and presses a kiss to her cheek. "You spoil us," he murmurs, peering with exaggerated interest into the basket like a curious child. "This is very thoughtful. And very much appreciated. Especially the snacks."
The smile lingers, but his fingers drift through his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp as he glances down the beach. "I should’ve known," he admits with a sigh, his tone somewhere between rueful and fond. "That something would happen at Pierce’s thing. And that my daughter would have had a hand in starting it." A pause, and then a half-shrug. "And yet..." Sighing, Remi shakes his head. "You were wise not to come."
the bastion
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.
