REMI
the bastion
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi huffs a warm laugh as he pads toward the small kitchenette, the soft creak of floorboards answering beneath his bare feet. "I’ve become a bit of a hermit the past few years," he admits, pulling a glass down from a shelf. "So that’s on me. I tend to let Ronin do most of the socializing on our behalf." His voice carries easily through the space, not loud but steady, as if pitched to gently fill any quiet with something grounding.
As Sohalia produces the bottle of wine, Remi glances back over his shoulder, curls shifting slightly as Oria readjusts atop his head like a watchful sprig of oregano. "That’s very kind of you," he says, a little surprised and visibly touched. "You didn’t need to, but thank you. It certainly won't go to waste."
Water in hand, he crosses back and offers it to her with a small nod before sinking down onto the couch. He leaves space beside him, but also gestures toward the nearby chairs, his posture loose and unhurried. "Please, sit wherever you like." His expression softens as he glances toward her again, this time with a flicker of something older behind his eyes. "I imagine you’re eager to begin." Folding his hands loosely in his lap, he continues with quiet certainty. "Once I open the door, Tarak will come through. You can take as long as you like with him. There’s no rush, and no pressure. Just you, and whatever you need to say, for however long." His gaze meets hers with gentle steadiness. "Are you ready?"
As Sohalia produces the bottle of wine, Remi glances back over his shoulder, curls shifting slightly as Oria readjusts atop his head like a watchful sprig of oregano. "That’s very kind of you," he says, a little surprised and visibly touched. "You didn’t need to, but thank you. It certainly won't go to waste."
Water in hand, he crosses back and offers it to her with a small nod before sinking down onto the couch. He leaves space beside him, but also gestures toward the nearby chairs, his posture loose and unhurried. "Please, sit wherever you like." His expression softens as he glances toward her again, this time with a flicker of something older behind his eyes. "I imagine you’re eager to begin." Folding his hands loosely in his lap, he continues with quiet certainty. "Once I open the door, Tarak will come through. You can take as long as you like with him. There’s no rush, and no pressure. Just you, and whatever you need to say, for however long." His gaze meets hers with gentle steadiness. "Are you ready?"
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.
