I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
"Eggs ’n bakey," Remi echoes, though whatever dutiful enthusiasm Ronin might have hoped for is swallowed almost entirely by the yawn that stretches through the words, turning them into something soft and mangled. Still half beneath the covers, he drags his fingers through his curls until they stand up worse than before, his eyes narrowed against the light and the smell of coffee beginning to make a better argument than consciousness has so far. Swinging his legs out from beneath the blankets, he plants his feet and grinds the heel of one hand into his eye as if sleep is something he might physically push away.
"I have not slept that good in a while," he says, and for all the roughness in his voice, there’s a tired gratitude tucked into it. Not quite peace, maybe, because peace is a rare thing in their house and rarer still when their twins are out in the world with only one Ronin between them and whatever sign next decides to give them instructions, but close enough that Remi doesn’t immediately feel inclined to frown at it.
At the mention of Vi, his brows rise. His hand drops away from his face, and after a moment he nods. "I was thinking of going to speak with Mort as well about it." Remi shakes his head, a small sigh leaving him as he glances down toward the floorboards. "It...hit me harder than anything I can remember, honestly." Looking back up toward Ronin, the caution in his expression is there, but dulled around the edges by sleep and the promise of bacon. "Not even Dahlia was able to do that."
"I have not slept that good in a while," he says, and for all the roughness in his voice, there’s a tired gratitude tucked into it. Not quite peace, maybe, because peace is a rare thing in their house and rarer still when their twins are out in the world with only one Ronin between them and whatever sign next decides to give them instructions, but close enough that Remi doesn’t immediately feel inclined to frown at it.
At the mention of Vi, his brows rise. His hand drops away from his face, and after a moment he nods. "I was thinking of going to speak with Mort as well about it." Remi shakes his head, a small sigh leaving him as he glances down toward the floorboards. "It...hit me harder than anything I can remember, honestly." Looking back up toward Ronin, the caution in his expression is there, but dulled around the edges by sleep and the promise of bacon. "Not even Dahlia was able to do that."
but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me
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.
