REMI
It's a rare thing, to be cherished in this way. Perhaps Remi hasn't realized how self-conscious he is about his value to his husband, but seeing himself portrayed in various states and postures—none of which seem immediately interesting (he's still in a section that are of his hands on books, or the curve of his shoulder beneath a blanket)—it almost seems to him like a mockery of Ronin's skill and talent that it should be so wasted on him.
Drawing in a shaky breath, his expression focused and almost darkly fascinated as he flips through, his fingers flinch as they happen upon a page that feels more like a mirror just now than a sketch. It's a blur of charcoal, though some elements are so very crisp that the Alchemist fanciest he could touch them: individual eyebrow hairs amidst a sweep of colour reflected light in his eyes that makes him think there should be a sun on the opposite page. Swallowing hard, he looks up at Ronin, lips slightly parted.
He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He's confused and flattered and worried and so very fucking in love, that all he can do is reach forward to pull Ronin to him, his fingers around the back of the Star's neck. Pressing their foreheads together, Remi laughs under his breath. It's a wonderfully joy-filled sound that's abruptly ruined by the sound of bright squawks of confusion.
In the living room a hel has apparently thought their open window served as an open invitation to hide away from the storm for a while.
Drawing in a shaky breath, his expression focused and almost darkly fascinated as he flips through, his fingers flinch as they happen upon a page that feels more like a mirror just now than a sketch. It's a blur of charcoal, though some elements are so very crisp that the Alchemist fanciest he could touch them: individual eyebrow hairs amidst a sweep of colour reflected light in his eyes that makes him think there should be a sun on the opposite page. Swallowing hard, he looks up at Ronin, lips slightly parted.
He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He's confused and flattered and worried and so very fucking in love, that all he can do is reach forward to pull Ronin to him, his fingers around the back of the Star's neck. Pressing their foreheads together, Remi laughs under his breath. It's a wonderfully joy-filled sound that's abruptly ruined by the sound of bright squawks of confusion.
In the living room a hel has apparently thought their open window served as an open invitation to hide away from the storm for a while.
Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today
Sometimes... I say. But not today
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.
