REMI
the alchemist
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
'And what hours would those be?' Remi wonders, a smirk creeping onto his voice and infecting his voice with amusement. As she reaches out for his shoulder, the charcoal making strange patterns over his various scars, he just grins. "Fact about me, I am...not the neatest person when I'm working." Glancing down at his hands, nearly entirely black now, his torso streaked with scars and soot, he glances up with an apologetic grimace that's entirely feigned.
'Does the reason you're here require a shirt or clean hands?' He asks with genuine curiosity. Given her position in the government as well as bar-owner, Raza could be hear for almost any reason; certainly some of which require him to be a bit more presentable than he currently is.
'Does the reason you're here require a shirt or clean hands?' He asks with genuine curiosity. Given her position in the government as well as bar-owner, Raza could be hear for almost any reason; certainly some of which require him to be a bit more presentable than he currently is.
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
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.
