REMI
the bastion
Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do
Set me ablaze like you do
Remi’s brows lift at that, a quiet huff of amusement leaving him as he settles more comfortably beneath the umbrella. "Oh, if you wait long enough," he says lightly, gesturing vaguely toward the distant grasses with a lazy flick of his fingers, "you will see a spirit or two drift through even here."
At the mention of the sketchbook, he rolls his eyes with exaggerated patience, though the corner of his mouth curves upward. "I have always sketched," he counters mildly. "Your father paints." When Mateo teases about baby pictures, Remi lets out a short, incredulous snort and shakes his head. "No, no. I have been getting an alarming number of requests at the guild for commissioned pieces. I thought I would save myself some time and begin planning them while I am here and Ronin is off."
He watches Mateo settle beside him, feels the shift when his son’s tone dips just slightly. His brows draw together, the humour softening into quiet attention. He leans forward, forearms resting loosely on his knees as he peers through the neat little fence. The plant stands as it always does: steady, green, with two slender stalks branching cleanly from the base, each swelling faintly as if preparing to bud. It looks healthy. Strong. Entirely ordinary in its extraordinariness. Remi studies it for a longer moment, lips pursed, head tilting a fraction as if a different angle might reveal some hidden truth. He shifts his weight, then glances sideways at Mateo before returning his gaze to the sprout.
"It looks like any other plant to me," he admits at last, voice low and thoughtful rather than dismissive. "Why? Is something wrong?"
At the mention of the sketchbook, he rolls his eyes with exaggerated patience, though the corner of his mouth curves upward. "I have always sketched," he counters mildly. "Your father paints." When Mateo teases about baby pictures, Remi lets out a short, incredulous snort and shakes his head. "No, no. I have been getting an alarming number of requests at the guild for commissioned pieces. I thought I would save myself some time and begin planning them while I am here and Ronin is off."
He watches Mateo settle beside him, feels the shift when his son’s tone dips just slightly. His brows draw together, the humour softening into quiet attention. He leans forward, forearms resting loosely on his knees as he peers through the neat little fence. The plant stands as it always does: steady, green, with two slender stalks branching cleanly from the base, each swelling faintly as if preparing to bud. It looks healthy. Strong. Entirely ordinary in its extraordinariness. Remi studies it for a longer moment, lips pursed, head tilting a fraction as if a different angle might reveal some hidden truth. He shifts his weight, then glances sideways at Mateo before returning his gaze to the sprout.
"It looks like any other plant to me," he admits at last, voice low and thoughtful rather than dismissive. "Why? Is something wrong?"
I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you
If that gets me closer to you
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.
