the monsters turned out to be just trees

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Remi had said he'd go, and so he would. But it would not be with a careless smile and happy countenance that he did so, but with a grimace. Ronin was gone, physically and mentally now. Remi had but a brief few hours with him before the blight took over and the alchemist was left alone in the woods by the frozen bones of the fire they'd made together. Ever since then, pieced back together as his heart had been, now those pieces were starting to crumble again leaving more than enough space for the frigid Deepfrosts winds to whistle through. Especially at night. Nights were the hardest.

Opening the door, the alchemist gave the summoner a dead-eyed stare. There were dark bags beneath his eyes, his curls were a chaotic mess, and perhaps most surprisingly, there wasn't a trace of any sort of warmth to be found in his expression. He was wrapped in layers of pelts that only added to the feeling of being physically withdrawn from the world. Only Astra's presence drew any sort of reaction from the alchemist. Lips parting at the sight of her and a whisper of a smile on his lips, Remi glanced up at Loren. "Practicing your summons?" He asked in a voice uncharacteristically raspy as if he'd been smoking nothing but cigars and screaming his lungs out. Or crying.