REMI
the bastion
& my heart ran away with me
Remi has dressed to match the spirit of the day with a kind of earnest, slightly chaotic enthusiasm born fro Sugar and Oria helping him dress. His curls are pushed back beneath a floppy sunhat patterned with gaudy tropical fish, and his shirt is an open, breezy thing in turquoise and coral hibiscus print, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Paired with linen shorts and sandals he absolutely stole from Ronin’s side of their closet, he looks every inch the man who has committed, wholeheartedly, to being a tourist.
He laughs as they pass beneath the shade of one striped canopy. "Mmm I never thought mud would find its way onto a list of things I never want to see again," he admits, boyish disbelief curling at the end of his words. "And yet, here we are."
He gives Ronin’s hand a squeeze, fingers warm and sure against his husband’s, tilting his head just enough that the brim of his hat casts a soft shadow over sea-glass eyes. The games stretch out in front of them in rows of colour and noise; ring tosses, throwing booths, something that seems to involve knocking over coconuts with a ball far too light for the job. Remi’s grin grows brighter, almost impish. "Alright," he murmurs, nudging Ronin toward the nearest stall with his shoulder. "Go on, then. Win something for me."
His eyes sparkle with the kind of affection that always sits just under his teasing. "But if I don’t walk away with the biggest prize they have," he adds, all faux gravity and dimples, "I’ll know it’s because you don’t love me enough, and everyone else will know it too."
He laughs as they pass beneath the shade of one striped canopy. "Mmm I never thought mud would find its way onto a list of things I never want to see again," he admits, boyish disbelief curling at the end of his words. "And yet, here we are."
He gives Ronin’s hand a squeeze, fingers warm and sure against his husband’s, tilting his head just enough that the brim of his hat casts a soft shadow over sea-glass eyes. The games stretch out in front of them in rows of colour and noise; ring tosses, throwing booths, something that seems to involve knocking over coconuts with a ball far too light for the job. Remi’s grin grows brighter, almost impish. "Alright," he murmurs, nudging Ronin toward the nearest stall with his shoulder. "Go on, then. Win something for me."
His eyes sparkle with the kind of affection that always sits just under his teasing. "But if I don’t walk away with the biggest prize they have," he adds, all faux gravity and dimples, "I’ll know it’s because you don’t love me enough, and everyone else will know it too."
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.
