hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end
"With wings and paws, instead of fins." Remi adds with a roguish grin that the girl will hear rather than see at present. "Fiadh." The alchemist repeats, his accent making the name sound far more charming than the girl will likely want it to. "My son is called Mateo." He informs the girl, and though referring to them as cousins strikes against the grain of feelings the alchemist will never quite be able to get rid of, it's probably more true than not (no, it is Remi, you are happily married, stop holding out this weird hope). "I think you two will get along very well."
Offering the merchant an imploring look, which is all but ruined by the crown of twigs and leaves he's accumulating as they walk, Remi shakes his head (carefully, so as not to disturb Fiadh's masterpiece). "Or, I could just whisk you two away while you are asleep and the wagon can just stay here." The alchemist suggests in a very leading tone.
Offering the merchant an imploring look, which is all but ruined by the crown of twigs and leaves he's accumulating as they walk, Remi shakes his head (carefully, so as not to disturb Fiadh's masterpiece). "Or, I could just whisk you two away while you are asleep and the wagon can just stay here." The alchemist suggests in a very leading tone.
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.
