the house that built me

'One oh eight?' The alchemist replied, looking incredulous. At the time of the Spire invasion, breakthrough, success, failure—whatever—Remi had been home with Aoife, mourning the loss of Ronin. The details of what happened were a blur at best. "Well, they're idiots to think so. From what I've heard here, trade and such has continued more or less as it always had. Hindered by the portals being down of course, but.." He shrugged. "It's one of the reasons why I'm not planning on going back. That mindset of ownership of a world that none of them even know.." Exhaling an unimpressed stream of air, Remi popped another bit of orange into his mouth. "Mmm, don't get too cozy with the gods, or I'm sure you'll hear about that too. Both Ronin and I have already." Maea's jealousy that Ludo had punished Remi, as if being noticed in any capacity was worth wanting, had been obvious. And then of course there was Ronin, who bred his own special brand of jealousy from those around him. 'I like doing things with my hands.' Remi said with a nod, as if agreeing. 'The old fashioned way, I suppose.' Maybe it was a foolish thing, to not make use of all his gifts, to want to do things the hard way, but the alchemist found he really did. And with the shift in his magic, he often had no choice now. "Mmm, they did. When Ronin went back to help with the Temple repair." The alchemist said a touch gravely, though the reason why wasn't exactly clear. remi Too long till I drown in your hands