REMI
the bastion
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi winces, the expression fleeting but honest, like the aftertaste of something that stings going down. "Bruises?" he echoes, brows lifting slightly. "No, I never got off quite that easily." Actually, that wasn't true. The problem was that he'd gotten off exceptionally easy. He tips his glass toward her as if in ironic salute before downing what remains with a smooth tilt of his head, the liquid burning softer than the memory. "Frey’s the reason my twins exist," he says, voice just light enough to suggest the weight it’s holding beneath. And then, after a pause—long enough to make the silence itch—he adds, "But...they weren’t conceived with my husband. Or, importantly, I suppose, with his knowledge."
The flush creeps into his cheeks almost immediately, and for a man who’s faced down gods and monsters and more, he suddenly seems very interested in the bottom of his glass. There’s a quiet sort of shame in the way his jaw sets, but it’s worn, weathered. Something long since accepted, even if it hasn’t softened entirely.
Thankfully, Colt offers an easier path forward, and Remi takes it like a man grateful for a lifeline. "I’m sure we can make it work," he says, grinning now, his voice pulling back into that familiar boyish cadence. "Ronin’s good at adjusting. I’ll just aim not to accidentally level your fences." A pause, then a dry smile. "Unless that earns me points?"
As for the pairings, Remi nods thoughtfully, the edge of his mouth curling up again. "Makes sense. And we’re all capable of healing, so worst case...no one stays broken for long." His fingers toy with the rim of his glass, casting a sidelong glance at her. "Though I’ll admit, seeing someone try to ride Ronin’s dragon without magic or tack might be worth a few broken ribs."
The flush creeps into his cheeks almost immediately, and for a man who’s faced down gods and monsters and more, he suddenly seems very interested in the bottom of his glass. There’s a quiet sort of shame in the way his jaw sets, but it’s worn, weathered. Something long since accepted, even if it hasn’t softened entirely.
Thankfully, Colt offers an easier path forward, and Remi takes it like a man grateful for a lifeline. "I’m sure we can make it work," he says, grinning now, his voice pulling back into that familiar boyish cadence. "Ronin’s good at adjusting. I’ll just aim not to accidentally level your fences." A pause, then a dry smile. "Unless that earns me points?"
As for the pairings, Remi nods thoughtfully, the edge of his mouth curling up again. "Makes sense. And we’re all capable of healing, so worst case...no one stays broken for long." His fingers toy with the rim of his glass, casting a sidelong glance at her. "Though I’ll admit, seeing someone try to ride Ronin’s dragon without magic or tack might be worth a few broken ribs."
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.
