So much to do, so little time.
It was practically his mantra by now; one he shared with most of the population of the barrierlands with Deepfrost upon them and Long Night just around the corner. There were plans to lay, preparations to undertake, buildings to fortify, food to gather..
Apologies to make.
It just so happened that two of the people he needed to see, though for wildly different reasons, made their home in the Monster Hunters Guild, and so that was where he came, winging down out of the snowy sky. Courtesy should have had him aiming for the front door, but as he had circled down from above the unmistakable form of a manticore caught his blue eyes in the backyard, and he angled down to the training ground instead, settling on one of the pells and croaking a tentative greeting to the significantly larger creature whose territory he had just entered.
Remi? He began, more than a little uncertain where things stood at the moment. His memories of his time with the blight were tattered, shredded things, mostly darkness but with flashes of light when he had been pierced by thorns. Remi had been in one of those brief moments of lucidity, at least, but there was no telling what other harm he had done to the alchemist in the blightrage. Is everything alright? A pacing manticore might mean more problems within, or simply an impatient alchemist. He hoped for the latter, but tensed against the former, just in case another emergency was brewing.
It was practically his mantra by now; one he shared with most of the population of the barrierlands with Deepfrost upon them and Long Night just around the corner. There were plans to lay, preparations to undertake, buildings to fortify, food to gather..
Apologies to make.
It just so happened that two of the people he needed to see, though for wildly different reasons, made their home in the Monster Hunters Guild, and so that was where he came, winging down out of the snowy sky. Courtesy should have had him aiming for the front door, but as he had circled down from above the unmistakable form of a manticore caught his blue eyes in the backyard, and he angled down to the training ground instead, settling on one of the pells and croaking a tentative greeting to the significantly larger creature whose territory he had just entered.
Remi? He began, more than a little uncertain where things stood at the moment. His memories of his time with the blight were tattered, shredded things, mostly darkness but with flashes of light when he had been pierced by thorns. Remi had been in one of those brief moments of lucidity, at least, but there was no telling what other harm he had done to the alchemist in the blightrage. Is everything alright? A pacing manticore might mean more problems within, or simply an impatient alchemist. He hoped for the latter, but tensed against the former, just in case another emergency was brewing.
