The nose knows, maybe.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Remi snorts with laughter, his blindness not hiding his own blush as he shrugs and grins. "Back to work. You think being blind has stopped my Aoife duties?" He quipped back with a bright and sunny peal of laughter. Remi can't feel her want for hesitation or potential awkwardness in her embrace, and he smiles adoringly into her sunwashed hair until she pulls away to grab the staff. If Remi thinks this idea is silly, the incorporation of the antlers, he gives absolutely no indication. He doesn't of course, and his smile is faint as his eyes close and his fingers splay, wanting to reach out and see the staff through his hands, if Amalia will let him. His still dexterous fingers work nimbly over the gnarled wood, feeling where it has been held, where hands have gripped it, and where indeed the antlers make it unbalanced. Faintly he smiles to him, his eyes almost squinting as if he is seeing something in his mind. "Here, stand, if you will—" He suggests gently, using the staff to help raise himself up. Unsteadily he holds it out, unsure where Amalia is now. "If you hold it parallel to you...about where would you say your hand falls? 1/4 of the way from the top? Lower? Higher?" He almost suggests her placing his hand atop her head and the other on the staff so that he can feel the measurement for himself, but keeps the idea instead as a backup.

A M A L I A

---

Amalia eases the staff into his hands, watching with rapt fascination as his fingers work across it, touching wood and finding secrets she herself does not know. She wishes she could touch a thing and know it, the way he seems to, though perhaps she is gifted in her own way. Still, bread-making is a far cry from the production of stars; Amalia is awed by the ability to create, as eager as a child to see what he will do.

She stands beside him and reaches out, placing her hand over his on the staff. Brow furrowed, she wrinkles her nose thoughtfully, looking over the length of it to garner where her hand best lands. "Maybe a quarter?" Amalia answers uncertainly, looking over the staff which stands a couple inches shorter than her. "I've always gone for small, lighter options. Not quite strong enough to use a quarterstaff very well." Ruefully she grins, laughter in her voice, nudging him gently with her elbow to demonstrate her weakness.

"What will you do with it?" Amalia asks, genuinely curious as she stands beside Remi, wondering what inventions he has built in his mind. It is strange, the fierce camaraderie she feels so easily toward the man, born perhaps from shared feline natures, or the ease of an anxious individual who finally has found someone who asks for nothing but her smile.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Appreciating her touch, if only to ground her in his darkened reality, the alchemist tilts his head with his eyes still closed, imagining it. The nudge to his ribs catches him off-guard, but still he playfully sways to the side, an expression of pain on his face as he comically doubles over. "Oooof." He groans, straightening up easily with a grin. "Are you always so rough with all your potential business partners?" The alchemist quips with an easy laugh. "Well..." Remi muses thoughtfully, opening his pale eyes and blinking at nothing. "Part of the antlers counter balance will come from weight, but partially from height too. If the staff is too low, it will force your center of balance to shift and will feel awkward. Too high and you will constantly feel as though it wants to fall forward." Licking his lips, Remi reaches forward for the staff. His fingers are featherlight, quite literally in fact, for his fingers have started to bleed away into feathered edges. "I want you to try and hold the staff, but feel it balanced between your fingers. I am going to alter its size and density. I should be able to feel when it is balanced, but let me know when it feels right." So saying, he waits for Amalia to position herself such as she will. Then, closing his eyes again, he breathes life into the staff through his feathered-hands. It grow subtly, internal components shifting as gnarled knots shift around, as bulges reform themselves. He makes it awkward at first, letting too much weight be at the top, and then making the base too bulky. That way the baker should have a good idea of when it begins to feel right again. Almost like tuning an instrument, where pulling it out of tune helps to bring it back.

A M A L I A

---

"I've never had a potential business partner before." The statement is made with an insecure laugh as she reaches up nervously to grab her arm. Friends, jokes, business partners... it is all so new, and it feels so fragile, no matter how many smiles or moments they share. Amalia is terrified of pushing too hard, breaking the bridges she has carefully built.

But Remi is made of stronger stuff, and the awkwardness easily rolls away. She listens to him explain the antlers, nodding thoughtfully with pursed lips. "What if the antlers were woven into the wood? Do you think they would keep the same properties?" The idea of counterbalance is strangely soothing, Remi's teaching reminding her of days when her mother would try to drill in those properties, to force her to learn about science and mass. Maybe if she had listened more, then...

Sighing, she shrugs, pushing hard thoughts away.

She takes the staff at his instruction, feeling the weight of it, the lack of balance. And then a soft "Oh," of wonder leaves her lips, her sable gaze growing wide as she watches the wood shift and change. Having grown up in a world of magic it seems foolish for her to be so awed, but she is, again and again and again, as things are mass is made from nothing and the world shifts and changes. "It... it feels heavy on top still... but it's starting to balance out." Thoughtfully she passes the staff between her hands, delighting in the way it adjusts to settle in fingers, the shifting of the weight into a more comfortable form.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Twitching his lips, Remi considers. "Normally, I would say no." He begins,  his lips twisting into a wry smile that he tries to conceal by biting the inside of his cheek. "But I have been...practising, I suppose you might say. Making sure that magical properties remain even when I alter other aspects." Never one to be overly confident or a braggart, this is said with a touch of hesitation if only because Remi's humble nature is hard to overcome. "Mmmm." The alchemist hums with a melodic thoughtfulness as a smile twitches across his lips. Reaching forward again, he slowly tries to work in Amalia's initial suggestion. The antlers, rather than merely being bound, begin to elongate and grow. Remi's earthen magic here helps him to reach into the fibres and the structure of what was once, and grow it into the staff. It takes concentration, and truly so lost in his work, Remi has no idea how much time has actually passed. Eventually though, his too-pale eyes flutter open, a look of soft confusion on his face as he tries to reorient himself back in a world not made up of minute organic parts that he can manipulate. With a boyishly beffudled grin, Remi ruffles a hand through his curls. "And now?"

A M A L I A

---

Silently the baker watches as the staff begins to change, antlers running like rivers back among the wood. Her breath catches in abject wonder as Remi spins his skills, dark eyes wide and fascinated, awed by the display of power, of finesse. The artistry is seamless: glowing veins of crimson ignite beneath the brown, smooth to Amalia's hesitant touch, warm and pleasant and perfectly right. She cannot say how much time passes, but she is delighted to spend it thus, watching the gift unfold before her, an unexpected offering which squeezes at her heart.

At last he comes to, pale eyes blinking, and though he cannot see it the baker's smile is radiant, vibrant in the summer day. "It's amazing!" Remi may be slow to praise himself, but Amalia is quick to admire her friends, all the confidence she does not feel in herself bestowed with ardor upon those she loves. "You truly are a man of many skills." She throws her arms around him then, a sudden and heartfelt hug of gratitude, appreciation for his kindness too great for simple words.

Pulling back, Amalia beams, running her hands over the staff. 'And now?' he says, as if this is not enough, as if he has not already given her a surprisingly beautiful gift. It is not avarice which makes her pursue, but curiosity now, a sense of wonder and fascination for the depth of his prowess. "What else can you do?" she asks him earnestly, bubbly with possibility, tilting her head like a child. "Could you make it spark? Or grow blades? Or maybe it can shoot rainbows!" She laughs, delighted, before a true idea strikes. "Or what about... could you make it so it can heal people?" Amalia remembers the night of the Spark Perch, when Rory had fallen and burnt and bled. She had been useless to help him, unable to heal. To have an item with those properties, well...

She sucks in a hopeful breath, her dark eyes trained anxiously on Remi.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Though Remi is, of course, reluctant to accept her praise, her hug he welcomes with (literal) open arms. Leaning down to properly bury his head against the crook of her neck and the tangle of her braid and all the errant strands floating like a halo around her head, Remi hummed a note of happiness against her. What else can you do? "For you?" Remi muses, head lolling boyish to the side as he offers the woman he cannot see a bright and radiant smile. "Anything. Well—" The alchemist pauses to clarify with a titter of laughter. "Almost anything, I think." He actually hadn't found a limit to what he could create as of yet, and though while he would like to promise the baker the moon and stars and anything else she might want, humble upbringings kept his tongue in check. Grinning at Amalia's various suggestions, Remi just nods. Those in fact, all seem like things he could reasonably do. The notion of healing though, sobers his smile somewhat even as the dimples in his cheeks deepen. "I am not sure how strong I can make it...but yes, I think I can do that..." Reaching a hand out, his fingers fumble to locate the staff and then spider-walk their way towards the antlers. Closing his eyes and exhaling a gentle stream of air, Remi focuses and concentrates. For a moment there is a bright pearl of light that glistens with an opalescent radiance. Creation complete, Remi transfuses this new item in the heartwood of the staff where it will be strongest. Beads of sweat begin to prickle near his hair line, and as the magic courses through him, lines of effort appear on his brow. Still, there is a faint smile on his lips as he works, his eyes eventually fluttering open as the light ceases.

A M A L I A

---

For you, anything. What an oddly intimate statement; Amalia does not know how to react. Why? her mind screams, rallies and wonders. Why me? What did I do to deserve your friendship, your generosity, your trust? Perhaps a little of it sneaks through their mental bond, an unspoken pulse in her budding abilities, amazement and gratitude and a strange sort of closeness. It's good he cannot see her face, because there are tears there, bright behind her blinking eyes, surprise and warmth and happiness staining her cheeks a vibrant red.

He listens to her suggestions with a boyish smile, and when she mentions healing he does not say no. Helping him find the staff once more, Amalia tilts her head and waits, watching as power grows in his hands. She has never seen anyone like this, outlander or natural, and a low exhale escapes her lips as he works, magic coursing through his fingers, brightness in his palms. Dark eyes watch in slight concern as sweat appears upon his brow; she is about to stop him, to tell him it is not worth it, when his eyes flutter open once again.

"Are you alright?" Amalia asks, reaching out to grasp his arm, to lead him down to the blanket below. "You were incredible. You've certainly earned all the bread you can ever eat!" She laughs, leaning over unconsciously to push the hair out of his face, away from the stick sweat. It is an intimate action, but not romantic: how she might have treated her family, a brother, if only she had been gifted with one.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Remi's willingness to help, to offer the best of himself to others as often as he can, to keep nothing for himself, meets Amalia's gratitude like a spring shower. The darkness of Remi's life as of late is only mitigated by small moments like this, acts of service into which he can collapse, and remember and feel who and what he used to be: a man unbroken by the world. A man who still had hope. Contentedly Remi lets himself be guided downwards, his bones feeling like lead encased in muscle that is suddenly too weary to hold him up. But there is a bright, if not clumsy, smile on his face as he nods. "Yes, just a little tired." He admits happily. Like a weary animal he sighs into the feeling of her hands on his face. Though it doesn't help him see any better, it is relieving and calming to be cared for, even in this small way, and his smile widens and dimples his cheeks. "Mmm, I will happily take you up on that." The alchemist says with a grin, and then promptly lets himself plop over onto his back in weary joy.

A M A L I A

---

Amalia grins as Remi flops back, letting the boy rest while she sets about fixing a plate for him, piling it high with fresh-baked scones and a healthy serving of blackberry jam before placing it tantalizingly under his nose, a playful enticement for him to partake.

As Remi sets about his meal, Amalia sets her own plate. She has brought meat as well, smoked grouse from Deimos; it sits beside some fresh-picked peas and carrots from the garden. Sighing contentedly the girl bites into a slice of oat loaf, taking time to chew in silence and enjoy the fading day.

So they sit, for a time, Amalia telling Remi the stories of her childhood, recounting the adventures had in this garden, the way it used to be when her grandmother was alive. She tries to paint a vivid picture, describing bees and flowers and fruit, singing scenes of youthful indiscretions into life. By the time the sun begins to set and the alchemist rises to go home Amalia is happy, her chest a little lighter, relieved to have spent a peaceful day in the company of good friends.

"Ronin said I should come to the guild" she tells Remi as he prepares to leave, smiling shyly and pushing back her hair. "So... maybe we'll do this at your place, next time?" Wrapping him in a sudden hug, she presses a kiss against his cheek before pulling away and squeezing his hand. "Thank you for today, Remi. I.... I didn't realize how much I needed a friend."

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Whisker's sprout suddenly from the upper portion of Remi's lips and cheeks as the tantalizing offering is waved beneath his nose. Growling playfully, Remi reached up to take the meal, happily licking quite leonine-lips. Placing the plate onto his stomach and folding his hands behind his head, the alchemist listens, willing Amalia's stories into bright colour inside of his mind. He hardly notices that any time has passed at all until a shiver from the lack of sun ripples across his skin. "As you should. Aoife would be glad to see you again." He says with a warm laugh. "Though at the guild there is an insatiable dragonling constantly demanding food, so you will have to prepare yourself for that." Remi adds, crinkling his nose with boyish amusement. Her hug is sweet and welcome, Remi's arms easily wrapping around her to enfold her against him. There is nothing wandering or wanting in the embrace from either side, and it is for this reason that the alchemist sighs so happily into it. His cheeks flush with a familial sort of contentment, smile growing lopsided as her kiss cools against his skin. Drawing the hand in his to his lips, he gently returns her gesture with a kiss of his own, closing his eyes and sighing to himself. "You will always have one in me." He vows softly, his accent doing little to hide the genuine emotion in his voice. Goodbyes said, the alchemist leaves the baker's home with a lightness and warmth that swells in contrast to the setting sun and cool evening air. ~FIN <3