maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane
The normal hustle and bustle of the port was in full swing. Bright curses twirled on the warm winds that rushed in from the sea, bringing with them the scent of salt and fish. It was music, this place. The stomp of boots on the docks, the whisper of barefeet in the sand, the rhythmic unloading of fish from the boats recently returned from that morning.
And...Remi was just...standing there. Staring at the portal with a look of perplexed concentration on his face. With his arms crossed over his chest and his toes in the sand, the only movement at all was the slow tug of the breeze against his curls. Occasionally he'd blink or run his tongue over his teeth, but for the most part Remi just...stood there. Staring.
Thinking.
Planning.
And...Remi was just...standing there. Staring at the portal with a look of perplexed concentration on his face. With his arms crossed over his chest and his toes in the sand, the only movement at all was the slow tug of the breeze against his curls. Occasionally he'd blink or run his tongue over his teeth, but for the most part Remi just...stood there. Staring.
Thinking.
Planning.
THE LULLABY
maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing
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.
