I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi shrugs, offering a noncommittal nod. "I like to do my research," he says simply, voice neutral enough to skate over the rest. The truth is, he’d fallen into a late-night spiral of grainy screenshots and crime scene forums with questionable moderation, and by the time he’d realised what he was looking at, it had already been burned behind his eyelids. But that isn’t something you admit out loud.
Ronin’s theory earns a quiet hum of agreement, though Remi’s gaze flicks back toward the floor beneath them at the mention of the runes. His jaw tightens, just slightly, but he doesn’t push the point. As Ronin claps him on the shoulder, Remi lifts one brow with the ghost of a smile. "If I’m doing a bit," he says mildly, "it’s one I didn’t write."
Upstairs, he finds himself hesitating at the door to the children’s room, eyes fixed on the handle. There’s nothing obviously strange about it—no blood, no symbols, no aura of imminent doom—but something about the stillness on the other side feels wrong in a way he can’t yet explain.
The sound of Isla’s boots on the floorboards breaks the moment. Remi straightens immediately, inhaling quietly through his nose and stepping back to give her room to frame Ronin in her shot, his fingers twitching once before he folds them neatly behind his back. "You want to use the music box for this one?" he asks, nodding toward the bedroom door. "Or we could try the Speak & Spell again." He glances sidelong at Ronin. "Who knows, maybe it's the sort of toy they'd have had."
Ronin’s theory earns a quiet hum of agreement, though Remi’s gaze flicks back toward the floor beneath them at the mention of the runes. His jaw tightens, just slightly, but he doesn’t push the point. As Ronin claps him on the shoulder, Remi lifts one brow with the ghost of a smile. "If I’m doing a bit," he says mildly, "it’s one I didn’t write."
Upstairs, he finds himself hesitating at the door to the children’s room, eyes fixed on the handle. There’s nothing obviously strange about it—no blood, no symbols, no aura of imminent doom—but something about the stillness on the other side feels wrong in a way he can’t yet explain.
The sound of Isla’s boots on the floorboards breaks the moment. Remi straightens immediately, inhaling quietly through his nose and stepping back to give her room to frame Ronin in her shot, his fingers twitching once before he folds them neatly behind his back. "You want to use the music box for this one?" he asks, nodding toward the bedroom door. "Or we could try the Speak & Spell again." He glances sidelong at Ronin. "Who knows, maybe it's the sort of toy they'd have had."
but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me
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.
