REMI
the alchemist
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
At the mention of Tarak, Remi’s smile softens into something more subdued, the warmth still there but touched through with memory as he dips his head in a small, understanding nod.
When Soh shifts, a hint of hesitation threading through her posture, Remi’s head tilts slightly, his attention sharpening in a quiet, attentive way as he listens. The mention of kraken ink has him closing his eyes briefly, his hand coming up to scrub through his curls as he exhales, the motion tired but familiar, like he’s already rearranging his priorities without complaint. "Of course I can," he says easily, as though there was never a question of it, glancing back over his shoulder toward the door, where the muffled cries still linger. There’s a flicker of something there—affection, responsibility—but it doesn’t pull him away from the moment.
"I’ll just need to shift to do it," he adds, turning back to her with a small smile that’s equal parts weary and patient. His gaze drops briefly to her hands before lifting again, something apologetic slipping into the curve of his mouth. "Do you have something to put it in?" he asks, gesturing lightly. "And I should warn you, it stains quite aggressively, including skin."
When Soh shifts, a hint of hesitation threading through her posture, Remi’s head tilts slightly, his attention sharpening in a quiet, attentive way as he listens. The mention of kraken ink has him closing his eyes briefly, his hand coming up to scrub through his curls as he exhales, the motion tired but familiar, like he’s already rearranging his priorities without complaint. "Of course I can," he says easily, as though there was never a question of it, glancing back over his shoulder toward the door, where the muffled cries still linger. There’s a flicker of something there—affection, responsibility—but it doesn’t pull him away from the moment.
"I’ll just need to shift to do it," he adds, turning back to her with a small smile that’s equal parts weary and patient. His gaze drops briefly to her hands before lifting again, something apologetic slipping into the curve of his mouth. "Do you have something to put it in?" he asks, gesturing lightly. "And I should warn you, it stains quite aggressively, including skin."
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.
