remi
Remi pauses again as Kaisel starts gesturing with big, dramatic sweeps of his hands like he’s trying to ward off ghosts or negotiate with an invisible performer. The raccoon just stares up at him, unmoving, tiny black eyes round and glassy with absolutely no interpretive assistance offered. Not a tilt of the head. Not a twitch of understanding. Just the kind of flat, inscrutable look that small animals deploy when confronted with human nonsense. If anything, the longer Kaisel flails, the more Remi’s stillness becomes pointed. A furry little mirror reflecting every ounce of Kaisel’s rising bewilderment.
Only once the soldier reaches peak whaaaaat does Remi finally give a small, decisive blink—an animal equivalent of closing a book on a topic he refuses to bother with—and turns back to his extremely fake tracking.
He sniffs a root. He paws at a suspicious leaf. He circles a patch of mud with the gravity of a seasoned investigator. Every movement is exaggerated, focused, full of false purpose, as though the very spirit of tracking has descended into his small, soggy body. And he keeps waddling forward with theatrical determination, blissfully unaware of the fact that Kaisel is now creating actual gear for the moment they inevitably have to leash a very confused, very probably-ungrateful Nacho.
Only once the soldier reaches peak whaaaaat does Remi finally give a small, decisive blink—an animal equivalent of closing a book on a topic he refuses to bother with—and turns back to his extremely fake tracking.
He sniffs a root. He paws at a suspicious leaf. He circles a patch of mud with the gravity of a seasoned investigator. Every movement is exaggerated, focused, full of false purpose, as though the very spirit of tracking has descended into his small, soggy body. And he keeps waddling forward with theatrical determination, blissfully unaware of the fact that Kaisel is now creating actual gear for the moment they inevitably have to leash a very confused, very probably-ungrateful Nacho.
we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses
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.
