REMI
the alchemist
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi nods with the grave, attentive understanding of a parent whose child has just fallen over and is very clearly deciding whether or not to cry based entirely on the nearest adult’s expression. It helps, perhaps, that his mind is still several steps behind the morning, trying to reconcile newborns with boys, boys with burritos, burritos with the cannon, and the cannon with the fact that apparently it was his son's who'd woken him up that morning. "I am sure that felt uncomfortable for you," he says reasonably, as if the problem with having fired off Torchline’s cannon is primarily one of poor signage and bodily discomfort, rather than the inevitable catastrophe currently barrelling toward them in the shape of their daughter.
His eyes slide casually toward Ronin, and though his expression remains mild for the boys, the bond carries the thought with a faint, disbelieving warmth threaded through it. Can you imagine what Flora is going to say when she finds out who she is meant to be throwing in jail for firing the cannon..?
At the question about the shadows, Remi raises his eyebrows, then nods to where Ronin's shadow is hunkered down. "Of course," he says gently. "Your dad has one as well."
His eyes slide casually toward Ronin, and though his expression remains mild for the boys, the bond carries the thought with a faint, disbelieving warmth threaded through it. Can you imagine what Flora is going to say when she finds out who she is meant to be throwing in jail for firing the cannon..?
At the question about the shadows, Remi raises his eyebrows, then nods to where Ronin's shadow is hunkered down. "Of course," he says gently. "Your dad has one as well."
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
