hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end
For his part, Remi didn't feel the cold. Or at least, his mind wasn't bothered by it. Beneath all the layers of fur he felt as though he wasn't really in the world anymore, that there was a barrier between he and it that was more than just surface-level. Unlike Loren, Remi was in shape. He walked often and despite the thickening snow, he traversed it with ease. Had his mind been more clear he might have offered the summoner Isla to ride upon. He could have offered himself to ride on, his manticore-wings making easy work of the distance between the guildhouse and the fae village. But his mind wasn't clear. It was dark and addled, constantly in a tug of war between preparing himself for Ronin's inevitable death while also clinging relentless to the idea that everything could still be solved. That Ronin could be saved.
Eventually the Outskirts gave way to the Greatwood making the walk easier, what with the thick canopy of trees overhead preventing much of the snow from reaching the ground. As they walked, it appeared as though the alchemist wasn't taking them down any particular path, or following any specific bearing. Instead, he seemed entirely lost in his own thoughts.
Eventually the Outskirts gave way to the Greatwood making the walk easier, what with the thick canopy of trees overhead preventing much of the snow from reaching the ground. As they walked, it appeared as though the alchemist wasn't taking them down any particular path, or following any specific bearing. Instead, he seemed entirely lost in his own thoughts.
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.
