but baby i've been here before; i've seen this room and i've walked this floor
The world narrows to blood.
It smears beneath his boots, sticky and warm, and it slicks Flora’s skin like oil, her dress soaked through and torn apart as if by a storm. But it’s not the blood or the jagged wounds or even the scream that splits her throat again that undoes him.
It’s her eyes.
There’s terror in them—real, consuming, childlike terror—and Remi is already moving before Dahlia finishes her threat. He doesn’t see the moment Ronin lands the blow with the rose, doesn’t clock the way the void recoils from the Knight’s strike, not really. All he knows is that Flora is still breathing, still bleeding, and that’s enough to make the Bastion drop to his knees.
“Hey—hey, petal, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and cracking even as he gathers her against his chest. His hands are steady, but his heart is not; it slams against his ribs as he cradles her like something made of glass. He doesn’t care that his arms are already stained with her blood. Doesn’t care that it soaks through to the skin. One hand smooths her curls back from her face, slick and matted though they are, while the other presses firmly against the wound as if his body might hold her soul inside.
“You’re alright. You’re alright, Flora. You’re not alone. I promise.” His magic surges out of him—not flashy, not wild, just steady, just his, a tide of strength and vitality flooding into her broken frame like warmth returning to frostbitten skin.
His wings—bright and shimmering and terribly soft—wrap around her, shielding her from the sun and the world and whatever might come next. He presses his mouth to her temple and lets his breath tremble there. “You’re safe. She’s not going to touch you again.”
Only then does he glance up—dazed, desperate—to find Ronin.
The sight of Dahlia marked, blood blooming at the edge of the rose’s thorn, makes something inside Remi sag. Not in victory. In relief so sharp it nearly hurts.
He swallows hard, shifting to shelter Flora more fully in his lap. “I’m never making fun of you for falling down the stairs again,” he says, a whisper cracked open with affection and ruin.
Remi gives enough HP to Flora to bring her back to full health.
Regional Score bonus: +15 in all shrine visits, drops, PQ+s, KQs, etc. (You must post this at the bottom of any post where a +15 should be included). Residents cannot be cursed at shrines in this region.
Magic: A gift | Can give up to 100% of his remaining HP to another character within 60ft.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered
It smears beneath his boots, sticky and warm, and it slicks Flora’s skin like oil, her dress soaked through and torn apart as if by a storm. But it’s not the blood or the jagged wounds or even the scream that splits her throat again that undoes him.
It’s her eyes.
There’s terror in them—real, consuming, childlike terror—and Remi is already moving before Dahlia finishes her threat. He doesn’t see the moment Ronin lands the blow with the rose, doesn’t clock the way the void recoils from the Knight’s strike, not really. All he knows is that Flora is still breathing, still bleeding, and that’s enough to make the Bastion drop to his knees.
“Hey—hey, petal, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and cracking even as he gathers her against his chest. His hands are steady, but his heart is not; it slams against his ribs as he cradles her like something made of glass. He doesn’t care that his arms are already stained with her blood. Doesn’t care that it soaks through to the skin. One hand smooths her curls back from her face, slick and matted though they are, while the other presses firmly against the wound as if his body might hold her soul inside.
“You’re alright. You’re alright, Flora. You’re not alone. I promise.” His magic surges out of him—not flashy, not wild, just steady, just his, a tide of strength and vitality flooding into her broken frame like warmth returning to frostbitten skin.
His wings—bright and shimmering and terribly soft—wrap around her, shielding her from the sun and the world and whatever might come next. He presses his mouth to her temple and lets his breath tremble there. “You’re safe. She’s not going to touch you again.”
Only then does he glance up—dazed, desperate—to find Ronin.
The sight of Dahlia marked, blood blooming at the edge of the rose’s thorn, makes something inside Remi sag. Not in victory. In relief so sharp it nearly hurts.
He swallows hard, shifting to shelter Flora more fully in his lap. “I’m never making fun of you for falling down the stairs again,” he says, a whisper cracked open with affection and ruin.
Remi gives enough HP to Flora to bring her back to full health.
Regional Score bonus: +15 in all shrine visits, drops, PQ+s, KQs, etc. (You must post this at the bottom of any post where a +15 should be included). Residents cannot be cursed at shrines in this region.
Magic: A gift | Can give up to 100% of his remaining HP to another character within 60ft.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered
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.
