he had eyes like rain & hair like waves
& a soul as vast and deep as the ocean
& a soul as vast and deep as the ocean
Remi chuckles, the sound low and warm as it spills into the night air, his brush poised mid-arc across the delicate door he’s been painting. "Mm, fair," he concedes lightly, a teasing lilt in his voice as he tilts his head. "I’ll do my best not to give you reason." A pause, a flick of his brush. "Though, technically, Mort’s not dead either, is he? So really I think you could make me one."
The remark is lighthearted, but it gives way to something gentler as Ronin’s unexpected words reach him. Remi’s hand stills, and he glances up. The candlelight doesn’t quite reach the stars in his eyes, but it catches the rise of a shy smile as dimples press deep into his cheeks. For all the years between them, it still stirs something quiet in him to be seen like that. "Ronin," he murmurs, the name carrying a soft warning. "If you keep talking like that, neither of us is going to finish these lanterns." And the implication is clear, one that makes his lashes lower for a moment as his grin curves wider, more crooked. They’re not so far from the door, or, frankly, from just making do with the blanket beneath them.
Rolling his eyes fondly, Remi returns to his painting, nudging Ronin’s leg beneath the lantern with a faint huff. "I suppose your thanks will have to do," he mutters, dramatic enough to be playful. "Though for the record, I’d do it all again. A thousand times over if it meant seeing that smile on your face."
The remark is lighthearted, but it gives way to something gentler as Ronin’s unexpected words reach him. Remi’s hand stills, and he glances up. The candlelight doesn’t quite reach the stars in his eyes, but it catches the rise of a shy smile as dimples press deep into his cheeks. For all the years between them, it still stirs something quiet in him to be seen like that. "Ronin," he murmurs, the name carrying a soft warning. "If you keep talking like that, neither of us is going to finish these lanterns." And the implication is clear, one that makes his lashes lower for a moment as his grin curves wider, more crooked. They’re not so far from the door, or, frankly, from just making do with the blanket beneath them.
Rolling his eyes fondly, Remi returns to his painting, nudging Ronin’s leg beneath the lantern with a faint huff. "I suppose your thanks will have to do," he mutters, dramatic enough to be playful. "Though for the record, I’d do it all again. A thousand times over if it meant seeing that smile on your face."
THE BASTION
& i guess i didn't mind d r o w n i n g in him.
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.
