if you could read my mind, what a tale my thoughts could tell
One might have thought Remi might have begun the proper construction of his wagon in his shop or in the Artisan's Guild, but what he really needed was space. And so it was that he found himself accompanied by Isla into the heart of the fields where his mad alchemy wouldn't bother anyone. That was the hope, anyways.
With various schematics and notes scattered about him (some desperately trying to fly away on the breeze), Remi knelt in the tall grasses at one with nature and completely lost in his own thoughts. The earth had shifted to lay flat for him and small earthen holds and pillars had sprung up all around to hold the various pieces of the would-be wagon in place.
Isla watched all this with an amused pebble-blue stare, lending a hand (or hoof) where she could, but for the most part the former healer was content merely to graze while Remi hummed some long forgotten memory.
With various schematics and notes scattered about him (some desperately trying to fly away on the breeze), Remi knelt in the tall grasses at one with nature and completely lost in his own thoughts. The earth had shifted to lay flat for him and small earthen holds and pillars had sprung up all around to hold the various pieces of the would-be wagon in place.
Isla watched all this with an amused pebble-blue stare, lending a hand (or hoof) where she could, but for the most part the former healer was content merely to graze while Remi hummed some long forgotten memory.
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.
