REMI
the bastion
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi chuckles, eyebrows lifting in wordless understanding before he nods. "The real trick," he says, grin tugging lopsided and knowing, "is making the space you share with them in your mind an equally peaceful place to be." His tone carries warmth and humour in equal measure; someone who’s clearly spent plenty of time negotiating mental territory with his own companion.
At Damien’s question about flight, Remi laughs outright, a boyish sound that brightens his whole face. "Oh, I absolutely had to learn. And I was terrible at it." His curls shake with the motion of his head, amusement still dancing in his voice. "Luckily, my mother was flighted too—she taught me before I could embarrass or injure myself too badly. The number of trees I flew into, though…" He trails off with a grin that suggests the number was not small.
Remi sobers slightly, though the smile lingers. "Whatever happens with the gods, just keep your wits about you," he says gently.
Following Damien’s gaze toward the logs, Remi exhales a soft sigh, a mix of resignation and humour. "I should get these back to Ronin before he decides to come looking for me." His grin returns, bright and easy. "Thank you for the help—and the excuse to catch my breath."
He flashes another fond look toward Aria before dipping his head in farewell to Damien. Then, with a ripple of motion, his tentacles unfurl once more, looping around the scattered trunks. Muscles flex as he hauls the rest up into his arms, the effort sounding in a quiet grunt before he turns back toward the coastline.
"Good luck," he calls over his shoulder, voice carrying easily across the sand as he heads back inland
~FIN
At Damien’s question about flight, Remi laughs outright, a boyish sound that brightens his whole face. "Oh, I absolutely had to learn. And I was terrible at it." His curls shake with the motion of his head, amusement still dancing in his voice. "Luckily, my mother was flighted too—she taught me before I could embarrass or injure myself too badly. The number of trees I flew into, though…" He trails off with a grin that suggests the number was not small.
Remi sobers slightly, though the smile lingers. "Whatever happens with the gods, just keep your wits about you," he says gently.
Following Damien’s gaze toward the logs, Remi exhales a soft sigh, a mix of resignation and humour. "I should get these back to Ronin before he decides to come looking for me." His grin returns, bright and easy. "Thank you for the help—and the excuse to catch my breath."
He flashes another fond look toward Aria before dipping his head in farewell to Damien. Then, with a ripple of motion, his tentacles unfurl once more, looping around the scattered trunks. Muscles flex as he hauls the rest up into his arms, the effort sounding in a quiet grunt before he turns back toward the coastline.
"Good luck," he calls over his shoulder, voice carrying easily across the sand as he heads back inland
~FIN
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
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.
