Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song
Remi raises his brows with the slow, theatrical incredulity of a man who has definitely caught someone in a lie and plans to milk it for all it’s worth. "Mm-hmm," he hums, eyes narrowing with pandering disbelief. "Not giving me a look. Just coincidentally radiating I'll kill everyone energy from across the roof like a heat lamp set to possessive."
And then, with a grin that turns positively indulgent, he tilts his head and adds, "You really should’ve had your horns out, though. Gods, Ronin. You have no idea how attractive you look with them. It’s wildly unfair." The way he says wildly is very pointed indeed.
At the Knight’s confusion over rotting things, Remi just shrugs, utterly unbothered. "’Tis the season," he says, as if that explains everything. And then Ronin’s hands are on his hips and the air changes, the grin on Remi’s face shifting from boyish to wicked in a heartbeat. The heat hits him fast—low and warm and humming under his skin—and it shows in the flush that starts to creep across his cheeks, even as he tries to keep his composure.
"Reluctantly said or not," he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he steps in closer, "it’s the fact that you said it that counts." And then, before Ronin can grab for more, Remi leans forward and presses the softest, slowest kiss to his lips—maddening in its restraint, in the way it promises everything without giving any of it away.
And then, with a grin that turns positively indulgent, he tilts his head and adds, "You really should’ve had your horns out, though. Gods, Ronin. You have no idea how attractive you look with them. It’s wildly unfair." The way he says wildly is very pointed indeed.
At the Knight’s confusion over rotting things, Remi just shrugs, utterly unbothered. "’Tis the season," he says, as if that explains everything. And then Ronin’s hands are on his hips and the air changes, the grin on Remi’s face shifting from boyish to wicked in a heartbeat. The heat hits him fast—low and warm and humming under his skin—and it shows in the flush that starts to creep across his cheeks, even as he tries to keep his composure.
"Reluctantly said or not," he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he steps in closer, "it’s the fact that you said it that counts." And then, before Ronin can grab for more, Remi leans forward and presses the softest, slowest kiss to his lips—maddening in its restraint, in the way it promises everything without giving any of it away.
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.
