I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Remi shifts immediately to brace Ronin’s weight, one hand sliding beneath the other man’s arm and the other still firm at his shoulder, steadying rather than restraining. The slick concrete offers little purchase, and Ronin’s soaked clothes don’t help, but Remi moves with instinctive care, his focus narrowed to the trembling warmth beneath his palms.
He glances toward Isla, waiting for the faintest nod or indication that this is fine, that standing isn’t the worst idea either of them has had tonight. When none comes, he gives Ronin’s shoulder a small, grounding squeeze, something more steady than reassuring. But guilt curls in the base of his spine like something cold and familiar. Something that knows him. The weight in the room might be gone, but the feeling it leaves behind—that echo of presence, of being watched through eyes that no longer belong to the living—hasn't let go of him.
Even so, his voice is soft when he finally speaks, the words meant only for Ronin, low and meant to soothe. "There’s nothing down here with us anymore. You're okay."
He glances toward Isla, waiting for the faintest nod or indication that this is fine, that standing isn’t the worst idea either of them has had tonight. When none comes, he gives Ronin’s shoulder a small, grounding squeeze, something more steady than reassuring. But guilt curls in the base of his spine like something cold and familiar. Something that knows him. The weight in the room might be gone, but the feeling it leaves behind—that echo of presence, of being watched through eyes that no longer belong to the living—hasn't let go of him.
Even so, his voice is soft when he finally speaks, the words meant only for Ronin, low and meant to soothe. "There’s nothing down here with us anymore. You're okay."
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.
