REMI
Remi nods, a quiet, almost weary motion, and lets out a breath that never quite becomes a sound. The threshold of the house still smells faintly of salt and citrus and something sweet he cannot name, and the contrast of it against King’s End sits oddly in his chest, like he has stepped out of one weather system and into another without quite adjusting. "It feels really strange," he murmurs, fingers curling briefly at his side before he reaches for Ronin instead, grounding himself in the familiar line of his body. "Leaving Sprout." The corner of his mouth lifts despite himself, the admission followed by a small, helpless huff of a laugh. "I know it'll be fine, it's just.."
When Ronin starts to angle back toward the door, already halfway into contingency planning, Remi’s hand rises without thinking, smoothing his husband's collar that has gone slightly askew, thumb pressing lightly as if the fabric itself needs reassurance. He draws in a slow breath meant to steady them both, though it wavers more than he would like. "One of the gardeners is an Accepted, right?" he reminds him, voice low and even. "If anything happens, they can channel faster than either of us could get back on our own if something happens." The logic is sound, rehearsed, something he has clearly told himself more than once already.
He leans in then, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ronin’s mouth, lingering just long enough to soften the edge of his own nerves. When he pulls back, the smile he gives him is boyish and a touch sheepish, as though caught caring too much and deciding not to apologize for it.
An arm slips easily around Ronin’s waist as they move further inside, Remi’s blue linen shirt catching the light from the stained glass above, the colour an intentional echo of the eyes beside him. The house hums around them, spirits whispering along the walls, and he lifts the bottle of upside-down waterfall gin he’s brought in one hand as they reach the kitchen, turning it upside down in a gentle shake toward Kaisel like an offering and peace-treaty both. "Smells good in here."
When Ronin starts to angle back toward the door, already halfway into contingency planning, Remi’s hand rises without thinking, smoothing his husband's collar that has gone slightly askew, thumb pressing lightly as if the fabric itself needs reassurance. He draws in a slow breath meant to steady them both, though it wavers more than he would like. "One of the gardeners is an Accepted, right?" he reminds him, voice low and even. "If anything happens, they can channel faster than either of us could get back on our own if something happens." The logic is sound, rehearsed, something he has clearly told himself more than once already.
He leans in then, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ronin’s mouth, lingering just long enough to soften the edge of his own nerves. When he pulls back, the smile he gives him is boyish and a touch sheepish, as though caught caring too much and deciding not to apologize for it.
An arm slips easily around Ronin’s waist as they move further inside, Remi’s blue linen shirt catching the light from the stained glass above, the colour an intentional echo of the eyes beside him. The house hums around them, spirits whispering along the walls, and he lifts the bottle of upside-down waterfall gin he’s brought in one hand as they reach the kitchen, turning it upside down in a gentle shake toward Kaisel like an offering and peace-treaty both. "Smells good in here."
Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today
Sometimes... I say. But not today
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.
