our hands they seek the end of afternoons
Once upon a time in a world so very, very different from the one in which the pair find themselves, it only took a fleeting glance from another man to send the alchemist into a tail-spin. A touch was eternally hard to bare, and many who knew the kind-eyed alchemist could attest to this fact, having seen him quite literally fly away under the duress of repressed need. But that was a world where marriage and relationships were strictly for procreation, and the alchemist's abhorrent preferences were punishable by death. Now the ruffling of feathers—both literal and metaphorical—simply had to do with a degradated sense of worth. The gods were a sight to behold, the starwhales that flew over the Greatwood were a sight to behold. Remi's wings? They were a bit of plumage that he had absolutely no right to; a shift he hadn't earned, a gift mistakenly given.
His peripheral vision is enough to let him know that Cera is moving closer. Simultaneously his heart twitters and starts in his chest, having come here to be alone after all. But the boy's presence is unobtrusive, if not soothing somehow, and so as Remi's gaze slowly lowers back down it is with ease, if not unsettled confidence.
But then it all changes, the equilibrium shifting and Remi is set adrift in a sea of his own making. Thoughts pulse and froth in the back of his mind, the nearness and whispered words like sea foam sprayed by intangible winds, soaking an already freezing body. The touch on his shoulder is like a lightning strike, awakening and simultaneously numbing his senses. It is all he can feel, all he can think of, until the hand slips lower against his skin.
Cera's presence for the alchemist at least approximates what his own might be like for everyone else: heart-breakingly sweet, a generosity and genuineness of soul that is undeserved, sunlight contained in coral lips that Remi can practically feel the warmth of. It is then that the alchemist truly notices the verdant shade of Cera's eyes, and something in his frayed soul immediately shifts and yields. The men in his life, all of them up until now, have had the most arresting blue eyes. Blue is a colour wrought with anguish and regret for the alchemist, much as love, but green?
Green is new. Green he can abide.
Exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, cheeks flushed with colour, the alchemist offers the boy a crooked smile, lashes fluttering softly closed in appreciation. "Thank you." Remi whispers, too distracted by the moment to know what he is saying, or even what he is thanking Cera for, but feeling compelled to offer the words nonetheless. Without noticing that he has, one of his hands softly rubs the place Cera's has just left as Remi pulls in a shivery breath.
"Distract me...Tell me...something not of this world." The alchemist suggests, a spark of interest appearing in the depths of his shattered stare as he raises his eyes.
His peripheral vision is enough to let him know that Cera is moving closer. Simultaneously his heart twitters and starts in his chest, having come here to be alone after all. But the boy's presence is unobtrusive, if not soothing somehow, and so as Remi's gaze slowly lowers back down it is with ease, if not unsettled confidence.
But then it all changes, the equilibrium shifting and Remi is set adrift in a sea of his own making. Thoughts pulse and froth in the back of his mind, the nearness and whispered words like sea foam sprayed by intangible winds, soaking an already freezing body. The touch on his shoulder is like a lightning strike, awakening and simultaneously numbing his senses. It is all he can feel, all he can think of, until the hand slips lower against his skin.
Cera's presence for the alchemist at least approximates what his own might be like for everyone else: heart-breakingly sweet, a generosity and genuineness of soul that is undeserved, sunlight contained in coral lips that Remi can practically feel the warmth of. It is then that the alchemist truly notices the verdant shade of Cera's eyes, and something in his frayed soul immediately shifts and yields. The men in his life, all of them up until now, have had the most arresting blue eyes. Blue is a colour wrought with anguish and regret for the alchemist, much as love, but green?
Green is new. Green he can abide.
Exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, cheeks flushed with colour, the alchemist offers the boy a crooked smile, lashes fluttering softly closed in appreciation. "Thank you." Remi whispers, too distracted by the moment to know what he is saying, or even what he is thanking Cera for, but feeling compelled to offer the words nonetheless. Without noticing that he has, one of his hands softly rubs the place Cera's has just left as Remi pulls in a shivery breath.
"Distract me...Tell me...something not of this world." The alchemist suggests, a spark of interest appearing in the depths of his shattered stare as he raises his eyes.
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.
