& my heart ran away from me
At the mention of wedding bells, Remi goes stiff as a board, his head snapping toward Ronin with wide, alarmed eyes. "There had better not be," he says flatly, a growl of parental dread curling beneath the humour. His curls are already frizzing in the heat, but somehow the idea alone makes him stand even straighter, as though bracing for the absurd inevitability of Flora doing precisely that.
Still muttering to himself about how far too soon that would be, he follows the spreading flare of Ronin’s light. With a small exhale, his focus narrows; muscles tensing, wings unfurling in a shimmer of gold. He kicks off the ground in one easy motion, gliding into the steam-thick air above the warped shoreline. Through the bond between them, his thoughts drift toward Ronin’s with a brush of dry amusement. It looks like one of those strange birdhouse things from Vai’s storybooks, he observes, the mental image of painted wood and cheerful colours warped grotesquely by mud and heat.
As Ronin’s firebolt streaks forward, Remi swoops low, feathers catching the volcanic light as he darts before the creature to draw its gaze away and keep its focus on him rather than the Knight. Mud splatters up from the ground, sizzling where it lands, but his grin never wavers. "Oh, is that right?" he calls down, voice bright with effortless teasing even as he wheels in front of the lumbering shape. "Any ideas for the menu?"
Still muttering to himself about how far too soon that would be, he follows the spreading flare of Ronin’s light. With a small exhale, his focus narrows; muscles tensing, wings unfurling in a shimmer of gold. He kicks off the ground in one easy motion, gliding into the steam-thick air above the warped shoreline. Through the bond between them, his thoughts drift toward Ronin’s with a brush of dry amusement. It looks like one of those strange birdhouse things from Vai’s storybooks, he observes, the mental image of painted wood and cheerful colours warped grotesquely by mud and heat.
As Ronin’s firebolt streaks forward, Remi swoops low, feathers catching the volcanic light as he darts before the creature to draw its gaze away and keep its focus on him rather than the Knight. Mud splatters up from the ground, sizzling where it lands, but his grin never wavers. "Oh, is that right?" he calls down, voice bright with effortless teasing even as he wheels in front of the lumbering shape. "Any ideas for the menu?"
THE
BASTION
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.
