REMI
all the things we said when we were younger
As Loren's magic intensified so too did the push back from what little magic of Arduinna was left in Remi's eyes, keeping the world from him. Oh the summoner would find it waning to be sure, but the fight was not yet over. Remi's wings jerked pitifully against the floor, his longer flight feathers sweeping at the dust and moving errant chairs about. Releasing a hot stream of breath which had been too long held in his lungs, the alchemist felt a wave of dizziness come over him that threatened to destroy the last shred of rationality he possessed. Extending his fingers he grabbed onto Loren's thighs; far away in the back of his mind he tried to remind himself not to let his nails turn into claws, but whether his body would listen—or could even hear him—through the downpour of pain he had no idea.
Sweat accumulated in the alchemist's curls and on his upper back as he writhed in the Launceleyn's lap. His heart was hammering far too fast and his muscles had started to shake in an effort to contain all that was within; a battle he was about to lose. Remi's crumpled legs became leonine, his pants melting away into a sea of golden fur and rippling muscle. Shifting beneath him, rather than collapsed as he had been, the alchemist was now in the strangest bastardization of a down-ward dog pose in his strange bastardized body. Feathers continued down his spine until only patches of skin were still showing, and on the Launceleyn's legs large paws replaced the fingers gripping the thin muscle.
The worst part of all perhaps, was not Remi's uncontrolled shifting, not the way his weight increased threatening to crush the summoner beneath him, was that as he finally raised his head, the strain clear all throughout his contorted muscles, the chords of his neck taut, was that his eyes had gone fully black.
Sweat accumulated in the alchemist's curls and on his upper back as he writhed in the Launceleyn's lap. His heart was hammering far too fast and his muscles had started to shake in an effort to contain all that was within; a battle he was about to lose. Remi's crumpled legs became leonine, his pants melting away into a sea of golden fur and rippling muscle. Shifting beneath him, rather than collapsed as he had been, the alchemist was now in the strangest bastardization of a down-ward dog pose in his strange bastardized body. Feathers continued down his spine until only patches of skin were still showing, and on the Launceleyn's legs large paws replaced the fingers gripping the thin muscle.
The worst part of all perhaps, was not Remi's uncontrolled shifting, not the way his weight increased threatening to crush the summoner beneath him, was that as he finally raised his head, the strain clear all throughout his contorted muscles, the chords of his neck taut, was that his eyes had gone fully black.
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.
