and my heart ran away with me
They are both down a shadow. Whereas Hotaru has gone from two to just one, Remi simply doesn’t cast one at all. It isn’t the sort of thing most notice about him—we don’t tend to look for shadows—but just now as the light stretches long everything around him, Remi kneels like some strangely improperly placed being.
He doesn’t notice she’s there until he hears the rustle of cloth parting skin. Adrenaline hums through his veins as he turns, expecting to see Frey standing near and looking disappointed in him once again. That it’s Hotaru doesn’t immediately make him think it isn’t Frey, but then, lovely as she is, hers is not the body Remi’s mind would fit Frey into. She doesn’t keep her clothing on long, but that it was there to begin with is perhaps the most clear cut sign that it’s truly her, and not the deity.
“Mmm, the sunset is rather nice.” He whispers under his breath, glancing at her just slightly over his shoulder as if they are two children in some hushed classroom sharing jokes. “Though I think if I was an invitation, having you here now will come across like a billboard.” Though Remi indeed takes a moment to allow his sea-glass stare to fall down the woman knelt at his side, it is done so with an artist’s appreciation rather than boyish lust. That her breasts are veiled from view is only a disappointment that he’s no idea what colour paint they might be comprised of, or what size brush would be needed.
“I have never prayed here before.” Remi admits, running his thumb along the peach hard enough to make the skin move away from the flesh beneath, but no so hard as to tear it.
He doesn’t notice she’s there until he hears the rustle of cloth parting skin. Adrenaline hums through his veins as he turns, expecting to see Frey standing near and looking disappointed in him once again. That it’s Hotaru doesn’t immediately make him think it isn’t Frey, but then, lovely as she is, hers is not the body Remi’s mind would fit Frey into. She doesn’t keep her clothing on long, but that it was there to begin with is perhaps the most clear cut sign that it’s truly her, and not the deity.
“Mmm, the sunset is rather nice.” He whispers under his breath, glancing at her just slightly over his shoulder as if they are two children in some hushed classroom sharing jokes. “Though I think if I was an invitation, having you here now will come across like a billboard.” Though Remi indeed takes a moment to allow his sea-glass stare to fall down the woman knelt at his side, it is done so with an artist’s appreciation rather than boyish lust. That her breasts are veiled from view is only a disappointment that he’s no idea what colour paint they might be comprised of, or what size brush would be needed.
“I have never prayed here before.” Remi admits, running his thumb along the peach hard enough to make the skin move away from the flesh beneath, but no so hard as to tear it.
remi
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.
