REMI
all the things we said when we were younger
Gods, the pause. It was always the pause, just as it was always the blue of their eyes, that did the alchemist in. His heart leaped and fluttered, buoyant with hope that though he knew magic couldn't erase the memories of the scars as they had the scars themselves, that if nothing else had been true, that Loren had meant it when he said he would try.
To hear the words said out loud, unequivocally, with the Launceleyn unable to even look at the alchemist as he said them, was...indescribable. Remi felt like he couldn't move, like all of his mental computing power was replaying the words over and over and over again in his mind, leaving no capacity for anything else. He didn't breathe, didn't blink. One of his hands hovered just above the counter, fingers twitching with the unsteady thrum of his pulse as he felt the world around him chill and grow noisy. He felt as if he was drifting, somewhere far away, watching all of this happen. Tears bubbled to the surface but did not fall right away, so still was his face. Finally when he did move, when he did remember to breathe, they dropped onto the countertop with what the alchemist could have sworn was an audible plop.
Leaning over the counter with a groan of discomfort from his poorly-bandaged shoulder, the alchemist rested his forehead on his hands and stared down at the strange patterns his tears made on the counter.
"How many." He said after what was probably an eternity, in a voice that did not sound like his own. "How many amulets would you like."
To hear the words said out loud, unequivocally, with the Launceleyn unable to even look at the alchemist as he said them, was...indescribable. Remi felt like he couldn't move, like all of his mental computing power was replaying the words over and over and over again in his mind, leaving no capacity for anything else. He didn't breathe, didn't blink. One of his hands hovered just above the counter, fingers twitching with the unsteady thrum of his pulse as he felt the world around him chill and grow noisy. He felt as if he was drifting, somewhere far away, watching all of this happen. Tears bubbled to the surface but did not fall right away, so still was his face. Finally when he did move, when he did remember to breathe, they dropped onto the countertop with what the alchemist could have sworn was an audible plop.
Leaning over the counter with a groan of discomfort from his poorly-bandaged shoulder, the alchemist rested his forehead on his hands and stared down at the strange patterns his tears made on the counter.
"How many." He said after what was probably an eternity, in a voice that did not sound like his own. "How many amulets would you like."
did it bend or did I break?
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.
