like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me
"Creativity?" Remi echoes, the word lilting in the travelling tongue as his brow tilts upward. There’s a soft laugh beneath it, low and incredulous, and he shakes his head as though still trying to work out whether Kaisel is joking. "I’m not sure if you know this, Kaisel," he begins, the syllables of the younger man’s name rolling easily off his tongue, "but I’m not actually a soldier. At best, back in the world Ronin and I came from, I made weapons for the soldiers to use in their training drills but rarely did I practice with them."
His shoulders lift in a slow shrug, the motion fluid and without apology. "Most of what I know now, I learned because I had to. None of this—" his hand gestures vaguely at the tunnel walls, the salt-heavy air, the echoes of footsteps "—is fun for me." The admission comes with a quiet sigh, something caught between weariness and understanding; a man who has seen enough fights to the death to know that it rarely leaves room for creativity, only necessity.
The idea of Kaisel haunting him earns a dry grimace and a hand dragged absently through his curls. "All the more reason to keep you from dying, then," he murmurs, though the ghost of amusement touches the corner of his mouth. "Besides, if we wake Ronin up from a nap right now, you might wish you had stayed dead."
At the mention of LongNight, his grin returns, easy and boyish now. "We did scare off more than a few LongNight lovers lurking down here," he admits. "Probably for the best. Things have been...spirited since Jack left." The understatement carries the weight of experience; Torchline’s underbelly is not something easily tamed, and for all of Jack's faults, he certainly had kept his heel on the worst of what Torchline had to offer.
And when Kaisel, with all his youthful enthusiasm, asks if he’s ever ridden a dragon, Remi only turns his head toward him, eyes glinting with sea-glass mischief. The smile that curls across his mouth is slow and knowing, wordless but entirely eloquent. Ronin had a dragon shift, after all.
His shoulders lift in a slow shrug, the motion fluid and without apology. "Most of what I know now, I learned because I had to. None of this—" his hand gestures vaguely at the tunnel walls, the salt-heavy air, the echoes of footsteps "—is fun for me." The admission comes with a quiet sigh, something caught between weariness and understanding; a man who has seen enough fights to the death to know that it rarely leaves room for creativity, only necessity.
The idea of Kaisel haunting him earns a dry grimace and a hand dragged absently through his curls. "All the more reason to keep you from dying, then," he murmurs, though the ghost of amusement touches the corner of his mouth. "Besides, if we wake Ronin up from a nap right now, you might wish you had stayed dead."
At the mention of LongNight, his grin returns, easy and boyish now. "We did scare off more than a few LongNight lovers lurking down here," he admits. "Probably for the best. Things have been...spirited since Jack left." The understatement carries the weight of experience; Torchline’s underbelly is not something easily tamed, and for all of Jack's faults, he certainly had kept his heel on the worst of what Torchline had to offer.
And when Kaisel, with all his youthful enthusiasm, asks if he’s ever ridden a dragon, Remi only turns his head toward him, eyes glinting with sea-glass mischief. The smile that curls across his mouth is slow and knowing, wordless but entirely eloquent. Ronin had a dragon shift, after all.
remi
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.
