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
"Can’t say I’ve ever measured it," he says lightly to Kaisel, the grin he offers bright and easy. "More than some, less than others." Especially now that I moved his stats around.
Remi watches the last of the Waders flap off into the forest with a lion’s smug satisfaction before the pixui begins to fold in on itself, golden fur giving way to tan skin, feathers vanishing like smoke in sunlight. A hand rakes through his curls as he straightens, Oria clambering her way back up to his shoulder with the ease of a creature well-accustomed to his transformations.
He dusts his hands together, turning his attention toward Liam with the kind of crisp attentiveness that only really settled over him when there were clear tasks to be done. As the instructions come, Remi nods, content, even quietly grateful, to be given something tangible. There’s something inherently grounding about this kind of work. After so long destroying, it’s nice to simply...build. To not be in charge. To not have to think ahead or around or through the people around him.
He heads toward the crates with the targets and dummies, crouching with his sleeves rolled up and strong, sure hands already selecting what he needs. The hammer he picks up feels good in his grip, balanced and familiar. He arranges the frame first—quietly efficient, each strike of the hammer precise—and begins assembling the structure with a calm focus, measuring distances by eye, securing crossbars with casual strength.
His brow furrows slightly, not from confusion, but concentration. Creating something from nothing had always come naturally, and gods but it feels good.
Remi works on the archery targets!
Remi watches the last of the Waders flap off into the forest with a lion’s smug satisfaction before the pixui begins to fold in on itself, golden fur giving way to tan skin, feathers vanishing like smoke in sunlight. A hand rakes through his curls as he straightens, Oria clambering her way back up to his shoulder with the ease of a creature well-accustomed to his transformations.
He dusts his hands together, turning his attention toward Liam with the kind of crisp attentiveness that only really settled over him when there were clear tasks to be done. As the instructions come, Remi nods, content, even quietly grateful, to be given something tangible. There’s something inherently grounding about this kind of work. After so long destroying, it’s nice to simply...build. To not be in charge. To not have to think ahead or around or through the people around him.
He heads toward the crates with the targets and dummies, crouching with his sleeves rolled up and strong, sure hands already selecting what he needs. The hammer he picks up feels good in his grip, balanced and familiar. He arranges the frame first—quietly efficient, each strike of the hammer precise—and begins assembling the structure with a calm focus, measuring distances by eye, securing crossbars with casual strength.
His brow furrows slightly, not from confusion, but concentration. Creating something from nothing had always come naturally, and gods but it feels good.
Remi works on the archery targets!
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.
