fancy that

you trace my lines, stirring my soul

Spots of colour appear on his tear-tight cheeks as Isla asks if it's a problem. After how they'd left things and the vial of fluid passed between them it's no great surprise that her tone is what it is, but with the day he's had thus far Remi isn't exactly thinking clearly. So it is that he takes her question a good deal more harshly than it was likely meant. 'No, I just—are they?' Turning, his green eyes wide with concern and worry, it takes a few beats longer than it should for him to realize that such questions were absolutely not his place to be asking. Not with who and what each of them was to one another and the rest of the world. But Remi had forgotten himself amidst the blue of Isla's stare; some things just couldn't be helped.

"Sorry." He murmurs latently, meaning it this time, as his gaze flinches away from her face, lingering on the vines that cage them in instead.

THE ALCHEMIST