REMI
Remi half-awakes to the smell of sweat-soaked sheets and musty air. It's nothing new given that he sleeps with a fox and a baby in a wagon, but this is a decidedly different sort of mixture of smells. It's one he's quite familiar with (mostly, there has never been the tangy whiff of armour or loneliness before), but even this doesn't immediately still his mind into wakefulness. It's a dream. A regular one, or perhaps even a magical one. But either way, Remi isn't ready to wake up.
With an arm buried beneath a pillow that supports the weight of Ronin's head, and the other tossed across his husband's body and tucked neatly into the waistband of his underwear, Remi struggles against the pull of consciousness and instead nuzzles himself closer against Ronin as if he might fit himself into the space between Ronin's jawline and his shoulder.
With an arm buried beneath a pillow that supports the weight of Ronin's head, and the other tossed across his husband's body and tucked neatly into the waistband of his underwear, Remi struggles against the pull of consciousness and instead nuzzles himself closer against Ronin as if he might fit himself into the space between Ronin's jawline and his shoulder.
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.
