I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
The moment the blood is washed clean from the stone, it's like a wire's been cut. The invisible pressure releases with a lurch, and Remi moves as if he'd been thrown forward by the sudden absence of resistance.
Time fractures in the dark. Maybe it's only been seconds. Maybe more. His thoughts are a blur of panic and refusal, thundering nonononono as he scrambles to the edge of the well. The surface of the water still ripples where Ronin's head is submerged, and the silence that follows the shriek is somehow worse than the sound.
"Ronin!" Remi hauls him back with both arms hooked beneath his, blood and brackish water soaking through cotton and denim, the dead weight of him a horrifying contrast to the way he’d been just there, just teasing, just warm. His knees slip on the wet concrete but he doesn’t stop until they collapse backwards together, the Italian dragging Ronin into his lap with a grunt.
Twisting, Remi lays him flat, hands shaking as he shifts to kneel at Ronin’s side. One palm pushes wet hair from his forehead, the other swipes across his cheek with a brisk slap. "Ronin—hey. Hey, come on." Another slap. Firmer this time.
His voice cracks as he yells toward the open stairwell. "Isla! We need help, now!" The echoes swallow his words, and the light pouring down feels far too slow.
Time fractures in the dark. Maybe it's only been seconds. Maybe more. His thoughts are a blur of panic and refusal, thundering nonononono as he scrambles to the edge of the well. The surface of the water still ripples where Ronin's head is submerged, and the silence that follows the shriek is somehow worse than the sound.
"Ronin!" Remi hauls him back with both arms hooked beneath his, blood and brackish water soaking through cotton and denim, the dead weight of him a horrifying contrast to the way he’d been just there, just teasing, just warm. His knees slip on the wet concrete but he doesn’t stop until they collapse backwards together, the Italian dragging Ronin into his lap with a grunt.
Twisting, Remi lays him flat, hands shaking as he shifts to kneel at Ronin’s side. One palm pushes wet hair from his forehead, the other swipes across his cheek with a brisk slap. "Ronin—hey. Hey, come on." Another slap. Firmer this time.
His voice cracks as he yells toward the open stairwell. "Isla! We need help, now!" The echoes swallow his words, and the light pouring down feels far too slow.
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.
