the monsters turned out to be just trees

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

Remi tensed slightly hearing the warmth in Loren's voice, something deep within stirring and wanting to respond in kind. Swallowing, the alchemist merely blinked in response; yes Loren was looking now. But he wasn't really. He couldn't be. "And I am helping you." The alchemist replied, feathers sprouting uncertainly throughout his curls.

The alchemist merely tossed his head slightly in indignation. The point was, the amount of roses was finite. It depended on those within the Hollowed Grounds to plant them. Though the alchemist knew little of divine intervention, in his current state it certainly seemed to him to be the laziest effort to help.

With a weary and frustrated sigh echoed by his posture, Remi remained bound by the Launceleyn's grip. Tightening his jaw to give Loren an embittered stare, he found himself suddenly pulled forward into a hug. Though the alchemist's appreciation for physical contact was no secret, he remained stiff in the summoner's embrace. On the one hand it felt like absolutely nothing, not with so many layers of various pelts and such between them. Like being embraced by a pillow. On the other though, he could feel the warmth of Loren's breath and the small amount of heat that radiated from his cold cheeks; it made him shiver, and not simply because of the cold. "You.." Remi's voice was a whisper, one that sounded strangled and uncertain. "... do not need to do that. I know you hate it." He added after a moment turning his head slightly towards Loren's if only to better speak into his ear, though keeping his arms still at his sides.