the monsters turned out to be just trees

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

"Perhaps we have different definitions of nothing." Remi countered softly, his heart resuming a slow if not defeated rhythm in his chest. If it was obvious, then the summoner would know why he couldn't speak the words, why he couldn't give voice to the thoughts. And if it wasn't? If the Launceleyn really didn't know? Well, then to ask Remi to explain it would be a cruel, cruel type of punishment. "To say them." The alchemist repeated, eyes searching Loren's face. "Maybe in time." Just then, the alchemist wasn't feeling entirely brave, already felt far too vulnerable in a way he never had before.

Exhaling a puff of amused air, Remi nodded with a slow smile. "What do you want now? I can send a raven back to the manor to let Peter know where you are and stay here. Or I can go and find Wessex and see if she might be able to get you out. Or Amalia even, she seems to have a way with the fae."