REMI
the bastion
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi chuckles, warm and low, the sound slipping easily between the two of them like a familiar thread. "Bit rude, maybe, only drinking my own gin in a bar this nice," he says, glancing toward the bottle as it’s placed before him. He pours himself a modest amount with an easy flick of his wrist, his smile never quite leaving. "But I’m sure Sunjata won’t mind. He’s always said it tastes better when someone else’s pouring it for me anyway." Which is true, despite the fact he's pouring it for himself now.
As for her you—the insinuation, the confident little sparkle in her eye—Remi just shrugs, a touch bashful in the way that only those who know their power intimately can be. "We do have a habit of ruining the usual curve," he admits mildly, mouth twitching with the threat of a grin.
He leans in slightly as she lays the belt buckle on the table, his gaze catching the gleam of it in the bar light. His fingers don’t reach for it, but his attention sharpens all the same. "Frey made it?" he asks, sounding a touch wary. "That certainly seems like the sort of thing most would take a few bruises for." Though based on his tone, Remi wouldn't be won, even if he did come out on top.
As she finishes, Remi leans back again, swirling the gin in his glass before offering her a nod. "Ronin and I would be happy to help," he says simply. "Though fair warning—our larger shifts do take up a good bit of space." He lifts a brow, playful now. "I can become a kraken that’s bigger than a galleon, and Ronin can shift into a leviathan." Both of which, by definition, were colossal.
He takes a slow sip, setting the glass back down with a faint clink. "But if you’re looking for something with a little less risk of accidentally flattening the spectators, I’ve also got a pixiu shift—winged lion, heavy and fast in the air. Ronin’s got a dragon and a luxere, if that suits your showmanship better."
As for her you—the insinuation, the confident little sparkle in her eye—Remi just shrugs, a touch bashful in the way that only those who know their power intimately can be. "We do have a habit of ruining the usual curve," he admits mildly, mouth twitching with the threat of a grin.
He leans in slightly as she lays the belt buckle on the table, his gaze catching the gleam of it in the bar light. His fingers don’t reach for it, but his attention sharpens all the same. "Frey made it?" he asks, sounding a touch wary. "That certainly seems like the sort of thing most would take a few bruises for." Though based on his tone, Remi wouldn't be won, even if he did come out on top.
As she finishes, Remi leans back again, swirling the gin in his glass before offering her a nod. "Ronin and I would be happy to help," he says simply. "Though fair warning—our larger shifts do take up a good bit of space." He lifts a brow, playful now. "I can become a kraken that’s bigger than a galleon, and Ronin can shift into a leviathan." Both of which, by definition, were colossal.
He takes a slow sip, setting the glass back down with a faint clink. "But if you’re looking for something with a little less risk of accidentally flattening the spectators, I’ve also got a pixiu shift—winged lion, heavy and fast in the air. Ronin’s got a dragon and a luxere, if that suits your showmanship better."
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
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.
