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 hums a low sound of agreement as Maea explains the height she’s aiming for, fingers deftly weaving the saplings just as she does. "Chest high’s smart," he murmurs, tipping his head to better eye the line they’re forming. "High enough to guide without caging anything in." His voice is quiet, warm with the soft satisfaction of shared work and harmony—two things he’s come to value more and more, even if they’re hard-earned.
When Liam calls out, Remi rises with an easy breath, flexing the stiffness from his knees. Snorting under his breath, he turns with a grin toward Maea, mirroring her sigh with a knowing chuckle. He falls into step beside her toward the rock pile, reaching down to lift a hefty one with no more effort than scooping a loaf of bread. Her question catches him mid-lift, and he pauses just long enough to glance sideways at her, one brow lifting. The rock settles into place at the base of a dummy before he straightens again and dusts off his hands with a shake.
"Well..I'm sure you remember how it was before," he says simply at first, brushing damp curls from his forehead. "How hard they fought to keep outsiders out when the barrier fell. How they flinched at anything that felt foreign." Another rock—this one smoother, flatter—finds its way into his grip and is tucked neatly beneath a target’s support.
"Dygra might not be the Voice," he allows. "But she’s still change. Entropy, even. That’s...not something the Fae make peace with easily." There’s no judgment in his tone—if anything, just a wry sort of understanding. He squints at a stone before discarding it and choosing another. "That said...she’s older than most things. Older than the Wildwood itself. She was here before there were borders to protect or rules to break." A flash of dry humour flickers across his face, but he sobers a moment later, expression softening as he glances back at Maea. "But if anyone could build something in her name that the Greatwood wouldn’t spit out..." A small smile curves his mouth. "It’d be you."
Remi helps Maea!
When Liam calls out, Remi rises with an easy breath, flexing the stiffness from his knees. Snorting under his breath, he turns with a grin toward Maea, mirroring her sigh with a knowing chuckle. He falls into step beside her toward the rock pile, reaching down to lift a hefty one with no more effort than scooping a loaf of bread. Her question catches him mid-lift, and he pauses just long enough to glance sideways at her, one brow lifting. The rock settles into place at the base of a dummy before he straightens again and dusts off his hands with a shake.
"Well..I'm sure you remember how it was before," he says simply at first, brushing damp curls from his forehead. "How hard they fought to keep outsiders out when the barrier fell. How they flinched at anything that felt foreign." Another rock—this one smoother, flatter—finds its way into his grip and is tucked neatly beneath a target’s support.
"Dygra might not be the Voice," he allows. "But she’s still change. Entropy, even. That’s...not something the Fae make peace with easily." There’s no judgment in his tone—if anything, just a wry sort of understanding. He squints at a stone before discarding it and choosing another. "That said...she’s older than most things. Older than the Wildwood itself. She was here before there were borders to protect or rules to break." A flash of dry humour flickers across his face, but he sobers a moment later, expression softening as he glances back at Maea. "But if anyone could build something in her name that the Greatwood wouldn’t spit out..." A small smile curves his mouth. "It’d be you."
Remi helps Maea!
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.
