jump, then fall

i'm not the man they think i am at home

The air should have been stagnant and thickly musted with the lingering smells of sex, drugs, and whatever bodily fluids inspired by that combination of things. Instead, it has a crisp quality to it; a brightness and cleanliness that was one of the hallmarks of the Halenani. The monsoons have abated for a few hours—or perhaps they are merely gearing up for what will come that afternoon—leaving the light which filters in through the shutters calming and restorative; at least for those susceptible to such things.

Not for the first time, Remi doesn't realize whose body his arms are tangled around. There is only warmth and the press of skin against his. Sliding his lips against the curve of a shoulder, the alchemist sighs indulgently, more than happy to sleep away more of the morning.