aúsi, nos paramas // & still we stand
Beneath the weight of Amalia's words, the alchemist could only bristle guiltily. If only that were true. He thought towards her with a detached sadness, even as Roana's hand clamped around his throat. Rather than struggling, the alchemist merely grinned for a horrifying second, before his face and upper body contorted. Strong as she might be, Roana's hands were simply not big enough to throttle a lion. Roaring loudly in her face before shifting back, whatever disorientation she likely experienced hopefully giving the alchemist a chance to capture her hand anew and pin it against the wall, the alchemist merely shook his head with a snarl.
Without context (or, a large billboard sign with the message in large illuminated letters), the alchemist could only narrow his eyes with a brief puzzled stare. "What are you talking about?" He snapped, hands tightening hopefully around her wrist. "Ronin died and I had Aoife to take care of."
The pieces were right there, but his hands were more worried about where Roana's were, than fitting them together.
Without context (or, a large billboard sign with the message in large illuminated letters), the alchemist could only narrow his eyes with a brief puzzled stare. "What are you talking about?" He snapped, hands tightening hopefully around her wrist. "Ronin died and I had Aoife to take care of."
The pieces were right there, but his hands were more worried about where Roana's were, than fitting them together.
THE
ALCHEMIST
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.