REMI
the bastion
& my heart ran away with me
Remi chuckles under his breath as Flora explains the whole thing, his smile tilting crookedly as he lifts his fork again. "That sounds better than most of the times I have met the God of Life before," he murmurs, brows rising with something like approval before he takes another bite. Then Flora says the rest, and whatever amusement had been sitting loosely in his expression drains out so quickly it leaves his face very still.
Ronin will feel it before Remi says anything, that cold, sharp pang through the Attuned bond, swift as a blade slipped between ribs and just as involuntary. For one startling second Remi does not know whether Flora feels it too now, and the uncertainty makes his breath catch hard enough that his foot stills against the bassinet. Carlo and Calan remain asleep, mercifully, and it is only the sight of them that has him restarting the rocking a moment later with deliberate care, his cheeks flushing as he looks toward Ronin with eyes gone wide and bright.
Safrin’s name has not sat cleanly between them for years, no matter how much has been mended, no matter how many careful bridges have been rebuilt over the ash of old grievances. Remi has seen too much of what devotion to her can cost, has carried too many years of watching Ronin be punished for disobedience, bent beneath expectation, loved and wounded by the same radiant hand. He knows, too, how quickly disapproval becomes a wall with Flora, how little good there is in meeting a queen, a daughter, a woman newly remade by a goddess, with the sort of blunt horror that would only make her bare her teeth and dig in her heels. So, Remi swallows, the bite of pie turning heavy in his throat, and when he speaks his voice is careful enough to feel carved rather than breathed. "That," he says softly, looking back to Flora as his fingers tighten around his plate, "is quite the thing."
Ronin will feel it before Remi says anything, that cold, sharp pang through the Attuned bond, swift as a blade slipped between ribs and just as involuntary. For one startling second Remi does not know whether Flora feels it too now, and the uncertainty makes his breath catch hard enough that his foot stills against the bassinet. Carlo and Calan remain asleep, mercifully, and it is only the sight of them that has him restarting the rocking a moment later with deliberate care, his cheeks flushing as he looks toward Ronin with eyes gone wide and bright.
Safrin’s name has not sat cleanly between them for years, no matter how much has been mended, no matter how many careful bridges have been rebuilt over the ash of old grievances. Remi has seen too much of what devotion to her can cost, has carried too many years of watching Ronin be punished for disobedience, bent beneath expectation, loved and wounded by the same radiant hand. He knows, too, how quickly disapproval becomes a wall with Flora, how little good there is in meeting a queen, a daughter, a woman newly remade by a goddess, with the sort of blunt horror that would only make her bare her teeth and dig in her heels. So, Remi swallows, the bite of pie turning heavy in his throat, and when he speaks his voice is careful enough to feel carved rather than breathed. "That," he says softly, looking back to Flora as his fingers tighten around his plate, "is quite the thing."
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.
