if you make it all wrong then i'll make it all right
Only...he can see now. Sort of, anyways. The bakery is an array of blacks and greys; the contours lacking any sort of clarity or contrast. It's a world without depth, but in the center of it there is Amalia; black eyes like smudges of coal that put the shadows around her to shame, and hair the looks sun-lit, despite the fact they are inside.
Without his usual blind-awkwardness or lack of confidence, Remi moves forward, hands outstretched to meet her. Tilting his head playfully to the side and hoping to find her fingers in his to tug her close with a bemused smile, Remi laughs softly. "I love you Amalia, but you look terrible." He says with concern-laced-adoration, reaching to pinch a bit of shaved ginger from her hair and rubbing it between his fingers.
Without his usual blind-awkwardness or lack of confidence, Remi moves forward, hands outstretched to meet her. Tilting his head playfully to the side and hoping to find her fingers in his to tug her close with a bemused smile, Remi laughs softly. "I love you Amalia, but you look terrible." He says with concern-laced-adoration, reaching to pinch a bit of shaved ginger from her hair and rubbing it between his fingers.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
