I’m stranded and bare

ALYS

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Alys wandered the Greatwood, turning over her quest in her mind. She’d thus far spoken with two of the three people who had come back from the dead, and she’d thus far gotten mixed reviews of the experience. Both were undeniably changed by it, that much was true, and it left Alys wondering if bringing Sascha back would change her in the same way. Was it worth it? Or was it selfish?

The Flowerbirth air was light and fragrant with new growth. Light filtered down through a leafy, green canopy to dapple the ground around the seer. It was a beautiful day. There was something about the season that always reminded Alys of Death; transformation and metamorphosis were on full display, and it had always reminded her of the tarot for that reason. Others might not understand, but she rather thought that Mort might. She’d have to ask, when she turned in her quest.

Or when she admitted that she’d been wrong to ask for it in the first place.

And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

REMI

The Saltkiss Estuary smelled like life. Not just in the bright, floral way of Flowerbirth, but in the raw, unfiltered sense of it—the brine of the sea and the earth’s damp richness, the musk of creatures skulking through the reeds, the quiet hum of something larger moving beneath it all. Remi breathed it in, though the tightness in his chest didn’t ease. His wings, tucked tight against his back, rustled slightly as he crouched near the edge of a brackish pool, fingers ghosting over the damp, dark soil. This would do. Probably. He wasn’t an expert in whatever balance Vi and Mort required, but if he needed earth that had life in it, then gods, this was as alive as it got.

He exhaled through his nose, letting his fingers sink into the damp ground, feeling the way it clung to his skin, the way it pulsed with unseen movement beneath the surface. Reaching for the container he'd brought, Remi paused as movement flickered at the edges of his awareness—not dangerous, not pressing, but something there. Slowly, he lifted his head, gaze sweeping across the estuary’s shifting landscape until it caught on a lone figure among the trees.

A woman; not fae, despite her size. She blended well enough into the shadows that she might have gone unnoticed if not for the weight of her presence—a quiet, deliberate thing. Remi straightened somewhat, shaking the worst of the soil from his fingers before as he finished filling the container His seaglass gaze lingered on her, not unfriendly, but assessing in the way of someone used to recognizing threats long before they reached him.

"Didn’t think I’d run into anyone else out here," he admitted, his voice projected somewhat, wanting to alert her to his presence lest he startle her.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

ALYS

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

She hadn’t noticed the man at the water’s edge when she’d first stepped through the trees, and at the sound of a voice, her hands twitched towards the dagger at her belt. She’d been in the Greatwood for some time now without being the target of any unfortunate encounters, but that didn’t mean that it was safe. If anything, she’d put enough of a target on her back for her role in the yeti battle of Halo that she was inclined to believe that it was more dangerous than ever to wander Caido’s wilderness.

The man didn’t move towards her, and he was out of range of her emotion magic, so she couldn’t read him unless she moved closer, but doing so might put her in a difficult situation. ”I just wanted some time alone,” she responded, pitching her voice to be clear across the distance between them. ”The Greatwood is a good place for such things, hmm? Beautiful this time of year. Full of flowers.” Perhaps that was enough to mark him as friend or foe without making it painfully obvious what she was.

And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

REMI

Remi watches her, noting the way her hands twitch toward her weapon, the way her stance remains guarded despite the casual cadence of her words. Smart, he thinks. He doesn’t move closer, respecting the space between them, but his wings shift slightly as he settles more comfortably where he crouches. "The Greatwood’s always been good for that," he agrees. His fingers flick off the last of the damp soil as he seals the container and tucks it away, his seaglass gaze never quite leaving her.

At her mention of flowers, something flickers across his expression—wry, edged with something deeper. "Not the right ones, though," he murmurs, gesturing around at the distinct lack of roses.

"I won't interrupt your time alone." Standing, Remi glances around, his predatory vision doing little to help him spot flora that only swayed in the breezes rather than darting through the underbrush. "I have what I came for, anyway," he adds, just in case she felt obligated to say he could stay.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

ALYS

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

The man tucked something into a pocket, his gaze never leaving her, and though he didn’t seem threatening in his countenance, she was still reluctant to let down her guard entirely. ”No,” Alys murmured in response. ”If only they were.” If he was hunting roses, too, then did that automatically make him a friend? Or was there something that they could be used for by the enemy?

The thought was not a pleasant one.

Alys took a halting step forward, then another. If she could just get a little bit closer…

There. In range now to feel at least some of the man’s emotions, she felt nothing threatening and, as a result, found herself relaxing. In fact, now that she’d grown a little closer, she rather thought that he looked familiar. Not someone she’d met before, but someone she knew by reputation, at least - a demigod of Mort. Oh, what was his name - it started with an ‘r,’ didn’t it? ”Are you… Remi?” she asked, taking a stab and hoping she was right.

And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

REMI

Remi watches as she steps forward, slow and measured, the space between them shifting in increments rather than strides. He’s used to caution—it’s a survival instinct he recognizes well, though he doubts it’s him specifically she’s wary of. At least, not entirely. His lips press together in something close to a weary smirk—though there’s no real amusement behind it—before he nods. "I am," he confirms simply. Being recognized isn’t surprising; he’s spent too long with his name tied to gods, war, and all the wreckage in between to expect anything else.

His seaglass gaze lingers on her, studying the way she’s eased—just slightly—now that she has her answer. There’s something familiar in it, the way she’s watching him, reading him, like she’s weighing the truth of him beyond his words. Smart, he thinks again, though he doesn’t say it aloud. "And you?"

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

ALYS

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Oh, good, she was right. And he was who she’d thought, apparently, which had her relaxing further. ”Alys Glasse,” she said, her dark gaze trained on Remi’s face. There was no reason he’d have heard of her; she wasn’t anyone big or important. She was only a seer, a traveler - no one he’d have heard of, surely. ”It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Alys weighed her curiosity with the man’s apparent desire to leave - or, at least, he seemed to be lacking a desire to stay. When she next spoke, it was a hesitant thing: ”You’re… Mort’s demigod.” A statement. Factual. ”I understand if you’re busy, but I… I wondered if you might tell me more about him?” Her own opinion of the god was skewed by his kindness towards her and her deceased companion, by Tal’s devotion to the god of death, by her own attraction to that which was often considered dark and mysterious by nature. What would his demigod have to say about him? What could she learn?

What could she offer in return for her companion’s return?

And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

REMI

Remi watches her for a moment, taking in the way she hesitates before asking her question, the way her curiosity is edged with something heavier. There’s weight behind it, not just idle interest but something deeper, something that means more than a passing conversation. He recognizes the shape of it—the way people look at him when they think he might hold the answers they’re searching for, especially when it comes to death.

His fingers flex slightly at his sides before he exhales, slow and steady. "Mort isn’t the sort of god most people expect him to be," he begins, his voice quieter now, as if speaking of the god of death demands something softer. "He isn’t cold. He isn’t cruel. He’s... warm. Steady. The kind of presence that makes you feel like you’re home, even when everything else is falling apart."

His seaglass gaze flickers over Alys, measuring her reaction before he continues. "He loves the souls that pass through his halls. Loves them in a way that isn’t possessive, that isn’t about keeping or hoarding. He understands that love doesn’t end when someone dies, that it lingers, that it carries on in the people left behind." Remi’s lips twitch, something close to a smile but weighted with memory.

"Originally I was Ludo's demigod, but it was Mort who took me in when I could no longer do what it was Ludo needed of me." That he'd been able to bear it at all was something in and of itself, though it had certainly left more than a few marks.

"You've lost someone recently, I take it?" It's the reason most come to him, after all; to hear a message left by a loved one, to ask to see them again, to ask whether or not he thought they were happy with Mort.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

ALYS

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

What Remi had to say mirrored her own (admittedly limited) experience, and yet she found herself entranced by his description all the same. Death was so rarely what people expected in the tarot; it was no great surprise to Alys that the same was true of reality. The cards, after all, mirrored the world, or perhaps the world mirrored the cards - who was to say? All that Alys knew was that although she had no great desire to die any time soon, there was also a great warmth that awaited her when she did eventually pass on into Mort's halls.

"My companion, Sascha," she said when asked, blinking as she came out of whatever trance she'd fallen into as Remi spoke. "I... prayed to Mort to take care of her, and he answered. He was exactly as you describe; he even brought Sascha back to see me, and then gave me a quest to bring her back to life, should she choose to come." Her voice was tinged with awe as she spoke, as though she still couldn't believe her good fortune. To not only meet the god of death, but to have been given such an opportunity... especially as an Abandoned, she had never expected anything like that to happen to her.

"I don't know how to repay his kindness," she continued after a moment. "Not that he seems like the kind of god to demand repayment, but... if there was anything I could do, or offer, or bring..." Maybe then she would feel worthy of his attention.

And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

REMI

Remi listens, his expression softening in a way that has nothing to do with pity and everything to do with understanding. He’s seen enough grief, enough longing, to recognize the shape of it when it lingers in someone’s voice. At her last words, his lips twitch slightly, something wry but not unkind crossing his face. "Mort would never want anything," he confirms, voice quiet but certain. "That’s not who he is." His fingers flex slightly before settling against his side. "But if you want to honour him, to give something in return, then love is the only thing that matters."

He tilts his head slightly, watching her. "That’s all Mort is, in the end. Love. If you ever see him with Vi, you’ll understand. It’s... obvious, in everything they do. But even beyond that—everything Mort does, everything he is, is about caring for those who come to him. Not just welcoming them, but holding them, guiding them." His seaglass eyes flicker, a quiet weight settling behind them. "He carries the weight of all the love that lingers after someone is gone. And he never lets it fade." No part of the Bastion is keen to see Mort's halls for himself, but he knows when he does eventually find himself there, it will ease the weight of having arrived before Ronin, if that should be his fate.

There’s a pause before he exhales, shaking his head slightly. "If you are going to bring your companion back...there is a woman in Torchline you might be interested in speaking to. Her name is Isla Lockwood and she...was a companion for a time, and was killed as one before being brought back." It was likely worth mentioning that Remi was the reason she'd been made into a companion in the first place and also the cause of her death (the second time), but for the moment he chose to keep that to himself.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

ALYS

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Again Alys fell into a sort of trance, listening to Remi’s explanation with keen interest. She couldn’t quite explain why it mattered so much, but the need to return Mort’s favor with some kind of repayment lay heavy on her heart. And if all that she could give in return for his kindness was love, well, that was an easy enough price to pay. She thought of Tal, of course, and Boreal, the little family that they’d created together at the forefront of her mind. But she thought, too, of the friends she’d made along the way, the many lives she’d been blessed to touch through her readings, the people she’d yet to meet and those who perhaps she could stand to know a bit better.

If love was all Mort would ask of her, then love she could give in spades.

Tucking away the name Isla Lockwood in her mind, Alys nodded solemnly. ”Thank you for your insight,” she said. ”I’ll see about seeking out this Isla, as well. It certainly couldn’t hurt.” She paused, fiddling with one of her rings. ”I appreciate your time. I don’t want to keep you.” She took a few steps back, as though to return to the tree she’d been under when she’d first seen Remi. ”If I can ever do anything for you, please let me know.” It only seemed fair, when he’d offered her such details about Mort to consider.

And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

REMI

Remi watches her, the way she takes his words and tucks them away, the quiet solemnity in her response. He’s used to people coming to him with questions about Mort, about death, about the things that linger beyond it—but Alys isn’t looking for closure, isn’t looking for something to ease her grief. She’s looking for understanding, for something more than just answers.

That, if nothing else, earns his respect.

"You don’t owe me anything," he says simply, shaking his head as she offers to return the favour. "But if you ever need help, I hope you’ll ask." His lips twitch slightly, something wry but not unkind. His wings shift slightly at his back, his own thoughts already beginning to pull him forward, toward the next step in Mort’s task, toward home. With a final glance at Alys, he dips his head in a quiet nod. "Good luck," he murmurs, and then, without ceremony, the Bastion steps back, his presence slipping into the woods as effortlessly as if he’d never been there at all.


~FIN

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today