REMI
the alchemist
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
"There's...I think they're called plankton?" The Alchemist replied, rubbing lightly at the scruff on his chin. "There are all sorts of stories about why they glow the way they do. Some say it's a blessing from Safrin and Frey, others say it's a warning sign..." Remi shrugged. Stories abound in Torchline after all.
Looking at the metal digits, Remi frowned deeply, his eyes flicking up sharply towards Sam's face once he'd gotten the measure of what he was saying. Once, long long ago, he'd made a prosthetic for a friend...but it hadn't been because he had needed her fingers. "Deimos...needed your fingers." He repeated slowly, wondering just as Sam might have done ot him on the beach, just who it was he was looking at now, and where the man he'd once known had gone.
Looking at the metal digits, Remi frowned deeply, his eyes flicking up sharply towards Sam's face once he'd gotten the measure of what he was saying. Once, long long ago, he'd made a prosthetic for a friend...but it hadn't been because he had needed her fingers. "Deimos...needed your fingers." He repeated slowly, wondering just as Sam might have done ot him on the beach, just who it was he was looking at now, and where the man he'd once known had gone.
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
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.
