Bedside manner

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Remi was alive. Isla was alive. Well.. It was perhaps not so straightforward as all that, but Remi's mind was broken and battered and he couldn't think and it was all far, far too much. But he had won, even if had cost him his soul and his sanity. For now though, the dam held, the fractures were glued, his broken parts poorly assembled. But the mosaic of his shattered soul fit close enough. The light had been green, Isla wasn't gone completely. She was....well. She was in the Temple. On her way to the Infirmary, as it was. With purpose the dark unicorn strode ahead, seemingly frustrated by the doors she could no longer open. Pushing them with magic, a slight twitch on his lips, the unicorn paused to look around, before promptly walking into Rory's room with the alchemist trailing belatedly behind. Covered in whatever ascended fluid Isla's corpse had drained onto him, Remi looked quite bad. It was perhaps the chaotic state of him that made the spark in his pale stare so ... strange. He was walking into the infirmary, accompanied by a rather bossy and disgruntled looking unicorn, and yet he acted as if nothing was amiss. "Rory?" He asked, brows softening. "Rory I heard..what happened?" He mumbled finally as Isla parted from his side, walking as quietly as her hooves would allow to the opposite side of Rory's bed to begin visually examining his injuries.