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 laughs—loud and utterly unguarded—the sound peeling out over the sand like sunlight. He clutches the basket closer to his chest as Isla swats him, ducking as if to avoid another playful reprimand. "All right, all right," he concedes through a grin, his accent curling warmly around each word. "You win. Consider my memory as selective as yours. Completely wiped, in fact." He touches two fingers to his temple with mock solemnity, having had his memories messed with often enough to know what he was offering.
That smile lingers, softer now, less teasing. "Truly," he says, voice gentling, "I’m glad that you and Everest are finding your footing after everything that happened." There’s no envy, no bitterness—just the sincere contentment of someone who’s watched a friend through every storm, and is grateful to see her on calmer waters.
Still, the tide of conversation turns again, and Remi exhales, low and slow. "Flora has called herself functionally immortal because of what Ronin and I can do. And I want to believe that it’s bravado, that it’s just swagger and performance and stubborn pride..." He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. "But I’m not sure anymore. She’s brave. But she’s also reckless. And those things don’t always mix well." There’s a glance toward the ocean, where the horizon still blushes with the last light of day. "Still. You’re probably right." At least, he very much hoped she was.
Wanting to ease the weight of it, Remi smiles again, this time crooked with something more boyish. "Anyway," he adds, "next season makes ten years married to Ronin if you can believe that. Ten. You and Ever are of course invited. I'm just working out he details of the party, but then I'll try and send something official out."
That smile lingers, softer now, less teasing. "Truly," he says, voice gentling, "I’m glad that you and Everest are finding your footing after everything that happened." There’s no envy, no bitterness—just the sincere contentment of someone who’s watched a friend through every storm, and is grateful to see her on calmer waters.
Still, the tide of conversation turns again, and Remi exhales, low and slow. "Flora has called herself functionally immortal because of what Ronin and I can do. And I want to believe that it’s bravado, that it’s just swagger and performance and stubborn pride..." He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. "But I’m not sure anymore. She’s brave. But she’s also reckless. And those things don’t always mix well." There’s a glance toward the ocean, where the horizon still blushes with the last light of day. "Still. You’re probably right." At least, he very much hoped she was.
Wanting to ease the weight of it, Remi smiles again, this time crooked with something more boyish. "Anyway," he adds, "next season makes ten years married to Ronin if you can believe that. Ten. You and Ever are of course invited. I'm just working out he details of the party, but then I'll try and send something official out."
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.
