as long as i've got you and me

REMI

the bastion

What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold

The beach is nearly silent save for the lap of waves and the occasional call of Hels wheeling overhead. Torchline’s sun, bright and indifferent, slants low across the water—still early enough that the air holds a kiss of coolness before the full blaze of LongHeat arrives. Remi sits barefoot on the sand, legs drawn loosely in front of him, a small thermos nestled beside his hip and two delicate ceramic cups placed carefully between his knees.

There’s a kind of intimacy to this stretch of beach, tucked between dunes and half-hidden by overgrown palms. The sort of place where no one looks too closely, and no one asks questions if they do.

Drawing in a breath, the Bastion pours a measured portion of tea into each cup, steam curling upward to mingle with the salt in the air. He closes his eyes, the sun warm on his face, and for a moment—just a moment—he lets everything else fall away. No Family. No Void. No blood-stained promises or whispers of I've died in his ears.

Just this: the sand beneath him, the quiet joy humming beneath his ribs, and the steady thrum of love that has never lessened, not once, in nearly ten years.

"Mort," Remi murmurs softly, a smile tugging at his lips even before the name leaves him. "If you’ve got a moment—I'd like your help with something." One hand gently turns the second cup toward the sea, as if in offering. "Ronin and I are coming up on ten years, and..." The grin that follows is sheepish and utterly unrepentant. "I could use your help to make it as unforgettable as this last decade has been."

---

Using

Divine Acknowledgement | Can pray to a god from any location (does not have to be at a shrine).

To pray to Mort <3

And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

The breeze shifted, curling around the cups and ruffling the steam rising from them. Light pooled golden on the sand, and then, as naturally as the tide brushing the shore, Mort appeared; he didn’t announce himself. He never needed to, especially not with Remi.

Barefoot, curls wind-tossed, his boyish face already lit with a grin, Mort stepped into the quiet space Remi had carved out. There was nothing divine in his arrival—no thunder, no trumpet of heavens—just the unmistakable warmth of being known. Of being loved.

'Ten years," Mort murmured fondly, dropping with easy grace to sit beside Remi in the sand. He leaned back on his palms for a moment, breathing in the salt and the tea and the memory-drenched air, before turning his gaze to the Bastion beside him. "It hardly seems possible. Then again—" his smile turned just a shade more tender, "—you and Ronin have always made the impossible look easy."

Reaching forward, Mort lifted the second cup, cradling it in his hands like something sacred. His eyes glinted with warmth as he brought it briefly to his lips, inhaling rather than drinking. Setting the cup gently down again, Mort turned fully toward his demigod, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course I’ll help," he said, his voice both earnest and light. "You and Ronin… you were always meant to balance each other. Just like Vi and I." His smile turned briefly wistful, then resolute; Vi had once told the Bastion as much, Mort knew. "Tell me what you have in mind."

mort

Table base by Sky!

REMI

the bastion

What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold

Remi glances sideways as Mort settles into the sand, and just like that, he feels it. There’s no conscious shift, no magical flare, just a slow and steady light blooming behind his ribs, as if his bones remember how to breathe properly only when the god is near. The kind of happiness Mort brings isn’t loud or overwhelming. It just is. Undeniable. Steady. Like gravity. Like love.

He smiles, slow and golden, and the sea-wind catches in his curls as he gazes out at the water again. "We’ve done so many things," he says softly. "Built a life. A family. Protected more people than I can count. Woken up next to each other on mornings when it felt impossible that either of us made it through."

He doesn’t look sad, even as the words turn heavier. Just quiet. Grounded. "But we’ve lost more than I ever imagined we would." Aoife. Seren. Rexanna. Vervain. Amalia. Wessex. Edrei. Seraphina. Vanya. The names breeze through his thoughts like offerings, reverent and light. "I can bring a few of them back each year, for an afternoon. But after ten years of living here—after everything we’ve fought for—it isn’t enough."

Turning toward Mort now, Remi’s gaze shines with something more than hope: devotion, trust, and a softness that only the god of death could draw from him. "I want to throw a party...Ronin does love having everyone around, filled with those we love." His voice thickens slightly, though the smile never leaves his face. "If I made space for them... if I left chairs open and poured drinks for their hands... would you open the gates, just for one night? Just a few hours? So Ronin and I could have them all together again—just once."

His cup sits, untouched and steaming, but Remi leans forward slightly as if caught in a prayer. "I want that joy for him. And selfishly—for me too."

And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mort beams, dimples deepening, eyes crinkling with warmth that spills brighter than the morning sun on the water. Without hesitation, he leans in and loops an arm around Remi’s shoulders, pulling him close in a sideways embrace that’s all fondness and familiarity, like they’ve been sitting on this beach sharing tea for a thousand years.

He glances out at the waves, his own gaze distant for a moment, thoughtful. "I’ve watched the two of you. Watched you love, and break, and carry on. You hold each other like Vi and I once did—like it’s the only thing that makes sense in a world that often doesn’t." His hand squeezes gently around Remi’s shoulder. "And after ten years… well. Maybe the gates can stand cracked for an evening."

There’s a mischief in his smile then—softened by something deeper. "Just a sliver. Just enough that if you call for them the right way, they'll hear you."

The sea breeze lifts the curls from Mort’s brow as he turns back to Remi. "We don’t get many chances like this, Remi. So plan your party. Set your places. Pour the drinks."

---

Remi has been given a quests! He must:

1. Collect a physical item from every place that Remi and Ronin have lived together over the past 10 years. 

• MHG in HG
  
• Wagon in TL
  
• Apartment in SB
  
• Cottage in GW
  
• Boat by the waterfall
  
• the Northaven
  

2. Collect memory snow
3. Collect water from the Eyes of Vi.

mort

Table base by Sky!

REMI

the bastion

What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold

Remi leans into the embrace without hesitation, tucking his shoulder beneath Mort’s arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Few places feel as safe, as sure, as sitting beside the god who once welcomed him to this new life with open arms and an endless well of patience.

Mort’s words settle into his chest like warmth steeped in honey, and the Bastion nods, once, twice, his throat too tight for a moment to speak. But the curve of his mouth gives him away—relief and affection mingling in his expression like seafoam in tidepools. "Thank you," he says quietly. "Truly."

Then, because it’s him, his gaze flicks sideways with a mischievous glint. "But you’ll have to promise not to tell Vi. No divine pillow talk. This part’s a surprise." He lifts the thermos as if toasting with it, lips twitching into a grin. "We both know Ronin’s terrible at pretending he doesn’t know things, so I'll know if you've said something."

He lets the breeze fill the silence for a moment, then sighs, content and golden. "I’ll plan it right," he promises, already turning the idea over in his head like a smooth stone. "They’ll come. I’ll make sure they know they’re welcome."

And just like that, the Bastion lets the moment settle around them, two warm cups on the sand and the tide lapping gently at the edge of something sacred.

~FIN

And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!