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 raises a hand in a casual greeting toward Maea as she waves, offering her a small, knowing smile in return. Though he doesn’t comment aloud, he notices the way her cheeks flush after Liam ’s wink, and his expression softens just a touch—fond and quietly approving. He likes seeing her like this, tethered by something more than history or heartache. At least that's what he assumes it is.
Liam’s words earn a quiet hum of agreement. "Mobility does seem to be the name of the game lately," Remi murmurs in agreement; his voice carries a subtle weariness, like he’s been playing that game longer than most and is a bit over it. Still, as instructions are given and the task becomes clear, he rolls his shoulders and gives a cheerful nod.
And then—then he is very suddenly dapped up.
Remi’s hand is taken in a slap-grip before he can withdraw it, and he finds himself pulled into a strange shoulder-bump-hug that leaves Oria chittering indignantly and retreating deeper into his curls. Blinking, Remi glances down at the connection and then back up at Kaisel with bemused incredulity. "Ah. Okay? he says, uncertain whether he’s being greeted or inducted into a cult, though the magic that swirls out of his palm and filters through Kaisel's emotions very much suggests it's the former. At the shout of “REMI!” and “Flora’s dad,” however, he laughs aloud.
"Flora’s dad," he repeats, still chuckling, clearly more amused than affronted. "That’s new. I suppose I’ll take it over ‘Oh no, you must be here to kill me'." His voice is dry but good-natured, his smile crooked as he rubs at the back of his neck, wishing either Flora or Mateo were around to explain what had just happened.
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Kaisel does not linger on it, and Remi is free to step back, flexing his fingers once before casting a glance toward the rocks with mock solemnity. "Alright then."
Rather than walk toward the nearest pile, he extends a tentacle—and then a second, and then a third and fourth, all of them sprouting from his sides, shoulders, and back like a myth come to life. One emerges from the small of his back just to reach behind him for a drink, lifting it easily to his lips while the others begin scooping, sorting, and stacking.
Where Kaisel struggles with a stubborn stone, Remi drifts beside him and lifts it easily with two tentacles, hoisting it overhead like a piece of driftwood. "I think the boulder threshold might begin around here," he muses, straight-faced. "But I could be wrong."
Liam’s words earn a quiet hum of agreement. "Mobility does seem to be the name of the game lately," Remi murmurs in agreement; his voice carries a subtle weariness, like he’s been playing that game longer than most and is a bit over it. Still, as instructions are given and the task becomes clear, he rolls his shoulders and gives a cheerful nod.
And then—then he is very suddenly dapped up.
Remi’s hand is taken in a slap-grip before he can withdraw it, and he finds himself pulled into a strange shoulder-bump-hug that leaves Oria chittering indignantly and retreating deeper into his curls. Blinking, Remi glances down at the connection and then back up at Kaisel with bemused incredulity. "Ah. Okay? he says, uncertain whether he’s being greeted or inducted into a cult, though the magic that swirls out of his palm and filters through Kaisel's emotions very much suggests it's the former. At the shout of “REMI!” and “Flora’s dad,” however, he laughs aloud.
"Flora’s dad," he repeats, still chuckling, clearly more amused than affronted. "That’s new. I suppose I’ll take it over ‘Oh no, you must be here to kill me'." His voice is dry but good-natured, his smile crooked as he rubs at the back of his neck, wishing either Flora or Mateo were around to explain what had just happened.
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Kaisel does not linger on it, and Remi is free to step back, flexing his fingers once before casting a glance toward the rocks with mock solemnity. "Alright then."
Rather than walk toward the nearest pile, he extends a tentacle—and then a second, and then a third and fourth, all of them sprouting from his sides, shoulders, and back like a myth come to life. One emerges from the small of his back just to reach behind him for a drink, lifting it easily to his lips while the others begin scooping, sorting, and stacking.
Where Kaisel struggles with a stubborn stone, Remi drifts beside him and lifts it easily with two tentacles, hoisting it overhead like a piece of driftwood. "I think the boulder threshold might begin around here," he muses, straight-faced. "But I could be wrong."
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.
