the bastion
And you should know,
I left but never lost my place
I left but never lost my place
Remi laughs again, warm and adoring, the sound carried easily on the night air. Her playful threat lingers in his mind, and when she insists she could stand a whole lot of Tuesdays, he gazes down at her with a boyish affection that softens every line of his face. The corners of his lips tug upward, dimples creasing deeply as he murmurs, ""Mmh. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see who gets sick of the other first."
Before she can retort, she’s tugging him forward, and he goes willingly, laughter slipping loose again as he’s pulled toward the music. With a familiar ease, he sweeps an arm around her lower back, his other hand fitting naturally into hers. Whether she wants to lead or be led doesn’t matter—he matches her step for step, keeping her close as the lanterns flicker and the sand shifts beneath their feet.
Through fast songs, slow songs, and the kind of music that makes the crowd whoop and spin, he never strays far, never lets her go far from his side. It’s only after several songs, when sweat beads faintly at his temples and laughter has left his voice hoarse, that he finally leans close and murmurs a suggestion for a drink. His eyes are still gleaming, his smile unguarded and fond, the kind reserved only for those he’s carried in his heart across lifetimes.
And so the night folds them back into its rhythm—affectionate, familiar, and edged with that rare, unshakable intimacy of old friends who’ve managed to find one another again.
~FIN
Before she can retort, she’s tugging him forward, and he goes willingly, laughter slipping loose again as he’s pulled toward the music. With a familiar ease, he sweeps an arm around her lower back, his other hand fitting naturally into hers. Whether she wants to lead or be led doesn’t matter—he matches her step for step, keeping her close as the lanterns flicker and the sand shifts beneath their feet.
Through fast songs, slow songs, and the kind of music that makes the crowd whoop and spin, he never strays far, never lets her go far from his side. It’s only after several songs, when sweat beads faintly at his temples and laughter has left his voice hoarse, that he finally leans close and murmurs a suggestion for a drink. His eyes are still gleaming, his smile unguarded and fond, the kind reserved only for those he’s carried in his heart across lifetimes.
And so the night folds them back into its rhythm—affectionate, familiar, and edged with that rare, unshakable intimacy of old friends who’ve managed to find one another again.
~FIN
and these nights I miss you most
my heart is yours to break
my heart is yours to break
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.
