I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be
Stifling another yawn into the back of his hand, Remi reaches blindly for the nearest pair of sweatpants, tugging them from whatever heap of clothes has been deemed clean enough to live beside the bed. Whether they’re his or Ronin’s is a question answered only once he’s pulled them on, the fabric catching tight around his hips in a way that has him glancing down with a sleepy sort of suspicion. Ronin’s, then.
Not that this stops him from standing and stretching, arms reaching overhead until his spine gives a quiet pop and his curls are made even worse by the movement. Humming his agreement about drinks and divine findings, Remi makes his way over to the chair Ronin has pulled out for him, though he doesn’t sit right away. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss against his husband’s unshaven cheek, lingering there just long enough to murmur, "good morning," under his breath.
Only then does he slump into the chair, folding into it with all the grace of a man whose body has woken up several minutes before the rest of him has agreed to follow. One hand ruffles through his curls again as he frowns down at the table. "It almost felt like..." Remi begins, one eye half-closing as if the thought itself is too bright. "At least with Dahlia, I could tell where she was just stronger than I was. There was something to push against, even if it didn’t matter in the end." Wrinkling his nose slightly, he looks back toward Ronin.
"This just felt like...like a light switch." His fingers flex once against the table before stilling. "It wasn’t anything I could have even tried to fight off, if that makes sense?" In Remi’s mind, at least, it does. It makes the whole thing feel distinct from the Family in a way he doesn’t yet know how to be relieved by, or even if he should.
Not that this stops him from standing and stretching, arms reaching overhead until his spine gives a quiet pop and his curls are made even worse by the movement. Humming his agreement about drinks and divine findings, Remi makes his way over to the chair Ronin has pulled out for him, though he doesn’t sit right away. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss against his husband’s unshaven cheek, lingering there just long enough to murmur, "good morning," under his breath.
Only then does he slump into the chair, folding into it with all the grace of a man whose body has woken up several minutes before the rest of him has agreed to follow. One hand ruffles through his curls again as he frowns down at the table. "It almost felt like..." Remi begins, one eye half-closing as if the thought itself is too bright. "At least with Dahlia, I could tell where she was just stronger than I was. There was something to push against, even if it didn’t matter in the end." Wrinkling his nose slightly, he looks back toward Ronin.
"This just felt like...like a light switch." His fingers flex once against the table before stilling. "It wasn’t anything I could have even tried to fight off, if that makes sense?" In Remi’s mind, at least, it does. It makes the whole thing feel distinct from the Family in a way he doesn’t yet know how to be relieved by, or even if he should.
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.
