REMI
Remi huffs, his smile curling slow and warm at the corners of his mouth, eyes bright with mockery as he rolls them skyward. "I wouldn’t really be much of a problem if I took the weather into account, now would I?" he points out, his tone just dry enough to make his dimples seem even deeper. "Normally when people are problems, they don't tend to be that considerate."
The boyish grin lingers, spreading slightly as Ronin mentions his behaviour during Leafchange. "It isn’t my fault," Remi replies, lifting one brow with faux-innocence, "if you being a problem is actually kind of a turn on." His tentacle adjusts the mug in his grasp with theatrical elegance, as if to lend his next sip a sense of sophistication thoroughly lacking in the Knight’s slurp.
When the noise comes, Remi glares at him through the steam with all the wounded dignity of a creature who has just been audibly assaulted. He takes a careful, dainty sip of his own coffee—silent, reverent, full of judgment—and then sighs as if burdened by his husband's reasonableness. "I suppose you’re right," he concedes, letting the warmth of the drink and his husband settle deeper in his bones. "We ought to just make the most of peace while we have it."
As Ronin sets his mug down, Remi follows suit, the tentacle slipping it gently onto the bedside table. His gaze flicks back with an arch of his brow, expression laced with sly delight. "Well," he murmurs, stretching lazily, "you’re certainly welcome to check, you know—" his smile turns crooked, "—as compensation for all your problematic behaviour last season." His seaglass eyes glint with mischief, though the affection simmering just beneath is as steady and golden as the light spilling through the window.
The boyish grin lingers, spreading slightly as Ronin mentions his behaviour during Leafchange. "It isn’t my fault," Remi replies, lifting one brow with faux-innocence, "if you being a problem is actually kind of a turn on." His tentacle adjusts the mug in his grasp with theatrical elegance, as if to lend his next sip a sense of sophistication thoroughly lacking in the Knight’s slurp.
When the noise comes, Remi glares at him through the steam with all the wounded dignity of a creature who has just been audibly assaulted. He takes a careful, dainty sip of his own coffee—silent, reverent, full of judgment—and then sighs as if burdened by his husband's reasonableness. "I suppose you’re right," he concedes, letting the warmth of the drink and his husband settle deeper in his bones. "We ought to just make the most of peace while we have it."
As Ronin sets his mug down, Remi follows suit, the tentacle slipping it gently onto the bedside table. His gaze flicks back with an arch of his brow, expression laced with sly delight. "Well," he murmurs, stretching lazily, "you’re certainly welcome to check, you know—" his smile turns crooked, "—as compensation for all your problematic behaviour last season." His seaglass eyes glint with mischief, though the affection simmering just beneath is as steady and golden as the light spilling through the window.
Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today
Sometimes... I say. But not today
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.
