in these trying times we're not trying

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

She's as kind and understanding as he's come to expect the workers of such institutions to be, and he's appreciative of that in ways he can't express. Or, no he absolutely can. With his hands against her skin, Remi lets his magic run through her that she might feel his boyish uncertainty, his insurmountable appreciation and comfort; it is all swamped however by the ever-present notion that he is in fact letting her down. That he's wrong, or insulting for not enjoying her company the way he's meant to. It's all a hang over from his life in Northaven of course, and as progressive, as things are in Caido, still there are tangles from the narrow-minded way he was raised.

"Surely it shouldn't be this hard to want you, if my preferences really had changed?" Remi wonders aloud. He knew in his bones that he wanted Isla (one in particular, ayyoo), and knew he was very much still gay. "Even if you were...aren't?...my type, this...you...I should want this more."

THE LULLABY

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing