the monsters turned out to be just trees

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

"Ahh, how quickly your tune has changed." Remi quipped looking quite proud of himself. "Maybe we can hunt together. Do you...hunt?" He tried to school the incredulity from his voice. After all, he knew relatively little about Loren. Simply because the man had been a duke and whatnot didn't mean at all that he didn't know how to trap or hunt his own game. Regardless though, given the majority of Remi's shifts were indeed predators, he was happy enough to make the offer regardless of Loren's skill.

"All I am saying is that with as clever as you are, I would not be surprised if you found a way to make illusions that could fool your glasses specifically for times such as this." It would have been crafty indeed, but given how many times Ludo had tried to trick the alchemist (trick him into suicide, as it was), the alchemist's mind was perhaps more skeptical when it came to illusions and illusion-piercing artifacts than most. "Of course I do. I still have all your other friends to compete with, haven't I?"

It was a relief Remi needed, to be cloaked in dark fur. Loren could say what he liked about the alchemist still being himself, but in this body with its limited emotional range, the tension of moments before, felt or not, intentional or not, were simply whispers. Tittering happily at the bounding luxere, the raccoon scrambled up to Loren's shoulder so as not to be pitched over, draping himself around the Launceleyn like some overgrown scarf. As the summoner knelt, the raccoon edged forward, small and dexterous hands reaching out towards the the young fawn's large ears, offering scritches if she wanted.