REMI
the bastion
& my heart ran away with me
The bathroom door opens with all the caution of someone who has recently learned in rather brutal detail that the hinges and floorboard of the Northaven can't be trusted. Remi steps out in a pair of soft sweatpants and a shirt that has clearly been chosen for comfort, a towel draped over his head as he scrubs at his damp curls with one hand.
"I thought I heard you," he murmurs, the words warm and softened almost past the edge of sound, his smile arriving a moment later as his seaglass green eyes find Flora over the towel. There is exhaustion written plainly through him, not in sharp lines so much as in the looseness of his shoulders and the unhurried way he moves, as if his whole body has been taught by the twins to spend its energy sparingly. Still, the sight of his daughter standing there with her pie and careful theatrical bravery has something fond tugging at the corner of his mouth, boyish even beneath the sleep deprivation.
As Ronin rises to receive the offering, Remi abandons the towel around his neck and slips into the vacated chair with the silent opportunism of a raccoon stealing something shiny from an unattended table. His foot finds the rhythm of the bassinets almost immediately, taking over the gentle rocking as if the motion has been stitched into him by now, steady and familiar without needing any thought at all. "How have you been, Flora?"
"I thought I heard you," he murmurs, the words warm and softened almost past the edge of sound, his smile arriving a moment later as his seaglass green eyes find Flora over the towel. There is exhaustion written plainly through him, not in sharp lines so much as in the looseness of his shoulders and the unhurried way he moves, as if his whole body has been taught by the twins to spend its energy sparingly. Still, the sight of his daughter standing there with her pie and careful theatrical bravery has something fond tugging at the corner of his mouth, boyish even beneath the sleep deprivation.
As Ronin rises to receive the offering, Remi abandons the towel around his neck and slips into the vacated chair with the silent opportunism of a raccoon stealing something shiny from an unattended table. His foot finds the rhythm of the bassinets almost immediately, taking over the gentle rocking as if the motion has been stitched into him by now, steady and familiar without needing any thought at all. "How have you been, Flora?"
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.
