the monsters turned out to be just trees

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

The alchemist raised a brow and let his eyes drop to the vaguely oval-shape that was bundled-up Loren. "I suppose I will have to take your word for that." He chuckled, pushing a finger against the summoner's side and, if the Launceleyn endured it, feeling nothing but animal pelt. With a crooked smile the alchemist watched this display clearly meant to be more evidence of Loren's apparent weight gain, but merely shook his head with stubborn disbelief.

"As I know, hmm? Ahh right. The meeting." That felt ages ago already. "But that means as you know, I have my own. Made by a goddess, no less." Watching the summoner tilt his head made something instinctive in Remi quite nearly respond in kind. But not just in kind, but more. Heat flushed the alchemist's cheeks pulling out the remaining strands of green in his eyes as his mind recklessly roamed. "Well when you put it that way. I suppose illusion or not, I ought to—" His voice was boyish and still slightly rough from tears as the words abruptly faded away. And then the alchemist's hands were reaching out for Loren's jacket. There wasn't much space between them, but enough that Remi could firmly tug the summoner towards him. With eyes fixedly on the Launceleyn blues he once knew so well, Remi's lips twitched into a grin and...abruptly became a raccoon. Hopefully he'd find himself clinging to the front of the summoner's jacket, and not inside the belly of some mythical beast or other.