REMI
the bastion
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi lets Colt run through the full arc of it—jest, mock horror, dawning understanding—without interrupting, his smile edging wider with each turn until it settles into something lopsided and boyishly pleased, one dimple deepening as her laughter finally breaks. He dips his head at her congratulations, warmth colouring his expression in a way that feels quietly earned. "Thank you," he says, sincerely. "I did not think I would ever be lucky enough to have more children. So..yes, I am very excited."
At her talk of corralling, his brows lift, eyes brightening with playful interest. "Oh, you corral them?" he repeats, the word rolled with mock seriousness before he exhales a theatrical sigh. "Well. That would explain where Ronin and I have been going wrong." His shoulders rise in an easy shrug as a soft chuckle escapes him. "We have simply been turning into monstrous beasts and chasing away anything that gets too close" His humour eases, just a touch, as he adds more earnestly, "If any of that ever affects your ranch, though..I am sorry."
Remi reaches for the finished wig then and holds it up for her to see properly, the blonde catching the light with natural variation rather than shine. "All right," he murmurs, stepping closer only once she is ready, patient as she settles it into place. He makes a few careful adjustments—nudging the front, smoothing where it meets skin, ensuring it sits comfortably and true—his touch light and precise. "It should not sweat, and it should not move," he explains gently. "You can tug at it a fair bit before it will come loose. And if you do want to take it off," he adds, pointing to the front edge, "just lift it here. It will release easily."
Any final tweaks are made without fuss, colour and fit refined until the result feels finished rather than temporary. Stepping back, Remi gives a small, satisfied nod. "I think that will do nicely." His gaze lifts to her again, smile returning, softer this time. "And we will do our best to make it to your rodeo. It was quite fun last year."
~FIN
At her talk of corralling, his brows lift, eyes brightening with playful interest. "Oh, you corral them?" he repeats, the word rolled with mock seriousness before he exhales a theatrical sigh. "Well. That would explain where Ronin and I have been going wrong." His shoulders rise in an easy shrug as a soft chuckle escapes him. "We have simply been turning into monstrous beasts and chasing away anything that gets too close" His humour eases, just a touch, as he adds more earnestly, "If any of that ever affects your ranch, though..I am sorry."
Remi reaches for the finished wig then and holds it up for her to see properly, the blonde catching the light with natural variation rather than shine. "All right," he murmurs, stepping closer only once she is ready, patient as she settles it into place. He makes a few careful adjustments—nudging the front, smoothing where it meets skin, ensuring it sits comfortably and true—his touch light and precise. "It should not sweat, and it should not move," he explains gently. "You can tug at it a fair bit before it will come loose. And if you do want to take it off," he adds, pointing to the front edge, "just lift it here. It will release easily."
Any final tweaks are made without fuss, colour and fit refined until the result feels finished rather than temporary. Stepping back, Remi gives a small, satisfied nod. "I think that will do nicely." His gaze lifts to her again, smile returning, softer this time. "And we will do our best to make it to your rodeo. It was quite fun last year."
~FIN
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
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.
