our hands they seek the end of afternoons
Perhaps it was strange that Remi wasn't with Ronin. The hunter was dying after all and had been given quite an explicit expiration date by a goddess no less. A cure hadn't been found, and Ronin's condition had been deteriorating. But Remi's time spent with his husband couldn't simply be an endless cycle of note-taking, hovering and worrying. His attempts at the levity that normally existed so easily between them was forced and a burden that he'd not place upon Ronin.
And so the alchemist found himself simply walking. It didn't matter where; his troubled thoughts were always with him and so the path he took away from them was inconsequential. Today it just so happened that the chilly Leafchange afternoon found him in the glade. Smiling faintly at a memory that made his heart clench as if suddenly filled with ice, Remi simply stopped, knelt, and laid down in the clover and wildflowers. On his back with his arms stretched out into the earth around him, he tugged in a breath and held it, trying to drown his senses in the world around him. Indeed, the buds and grasses rose up around him as his magic unconsciously surged outwards. Wanting to feel more of everything, wings spread from his back (a feat he'd only just recently learned he was capable of doing, having always had his arms become wings in hawk form. Not so with a manticore, apparently) and stretched wide as well, quickly becoming dissolved by clover and moss.
Closing his eyes, shattered and pale as they were, Remi clawed his fingers into the soil (now tipped with large claws), clenching at the earth as if he expected gravity to leave him at any moment. His white-shirt was stained with charcoal smears from his notes and now with pollen and grass stains as well, but what did it matter? The alchemist could create something from nothing, as his trade implied.
What he couldn't do, was fix Ronin.
And so the alchemist found himself simply walking. It didn't matter where; his troubled thoughts were always with him and so the path he took away from them was inconsequential. Today it just so happened that the chilly Leafchange afternoon found him in the glade. Smiling faintly at a memory that made his heart clench as if suddenly filled with ice, Remi simply stopped, knelt, and laid down in the clover and wildflowers. On his back with his arms stretched out into the earth around him, he tugged in a breath and held it, trying to drown his senses in the world around him. Indeed, the buds and grasses rose up around him as his magic unconsciously surged outwards. Wanting to feel more of everything, wings spread from his back (a feat he'd only just recently learned he was capable of doing, having always had his arms become wings in hawk form. Not so with a manticore, apparently) and stretched wide as well, quickly becoming dissolved by clover and moss.
Closing his eyes, shattered and pale as they were, Remi clawed his fingers into the soil (now tipped with large claws), clenching at the earth as if he expected gravity to leave him at any moment. His white-shirt was stained with charcoal smears from his notes and now with pollen and grass stains as well, but what did it matter? The alchemist could create something from nothing, as his trade implied.
What he couldn't do, was fix Ronin.
my hands believe and move over you
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.
