sometimes love is all that can save us, sometimes love can kill a man
'N—nno—p-pl--eas—" He tries, shock setting in. Remi shivers and there's a strange buzzing in his ears, and he cocks his head to the side as if straining to hear something.
But there is nothing. Just the silent and weighty disapproval of the trees, who without Arduinna, seem to only pity the alchemist, instead of laugh.
"Iant—" He wheezes, eyelashes thick with bloody beginning to dry while a fresh lacquer drips from his many wounds. "Ianto, wher—" Breathy. Gaspy. Panicked. Cringing and grinding his teeth together against the pain, Remi tries to take a deep breath and hold it, but quickly the blinding (literally) echoes of pain are too much, and he gasps it out loudly. Instinctively he knows that he is alone here, but he can't believe it. Shifting his nose to something more powerful, Remi scents the air, the lack of smoke and juniper and gold telling him all he needed to know.
Ianto was gone, which perhaps more than his wounds did.
Stupidly he tried to whistle, but his lips were shredded. Even so, he knew the tune did not matter so much as the thought, and so he thought of the fox. He thought hard of him, hoping desperately that the wagon would appear. That the fox would.
"Please—" He begged into the stillness of the surrounding trees.
But there is nothing. Just the silent and weighty disapproval of the trees, who without Arduinna, seem to only pity the alchemist, instead of laugh.
"Iant—" He wheezes, eyelashes thick with bloody beginning to dry while a fresh lacquer drips from his many wounds. "Ianto, wher—" Breathy. Gaspy. Panicked. Cringing and grinding his teeth together against the pain, Remi tries to take a deep breath and hold it, but quickly the blinding (literally) echoes of pain are too much, and he gasps it out loudly. Instinctively he knows that he is alone here, but he can't believe it. Shifting his nose to something more powerful, Remi scents the air, the lack of smoke and juniper and gold telling him all he needed to know.
Ianto was gone, which perhaps more than his wounds did.
Stupidly he tried to whistle, but his lips were shredded. Even so, he knew the tune did not matter so much as the thought, and so he thought of the fox. He thought hard of him, hoping desperately that the wagon would appear. That the fox would.
"Please—" He begged into the stillness of the surrounding trees.
sometimes love is a soft touch, or a line drawn in the sand
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.
