who we are and all that we're trying to be
To his surprise, Remi appeared neither exhausted or intent on sending him away. Instead, he was beckoned within, implored to take a seat, and other than blinking rapidly in surprise, he did as the alchemist bid. He appeared to be in the middle of something, experimentation perhaps, and the Sword only had to become another eye-witness to the series of events. He committed to the action with fervent curiosity, now a creator as well as a destroyer, tilting his head to study, focusing on the block, the curve of the talon’s indentations into its framework, and the deepening of fissures and scars. He arched his brow in the vivid silence, waiting for the inevitable, the alterations, the somehow, manifested conjecture to make sense –
And now, as if a cue to let his mind rest and merely to listen, to watch.
There was a bag – containing dust in the mage’s hands, and when he glanced at Remi there only seemed to be a grand wall of enthusiasm, so much so that he wondered if he be clamoring with excitement as well (a rare occasion; perhaps amidst the clarity of fun and departures from the norm, nothing so light and sacred lately). Instead, he leaned further into the fold, a gesture of his good faith and inquiry, watching as the powder flickered upon the toy, and it was restored instantly. And while he was not a great candidate for expressing joy, an easygoing, boyish smile managed to find its way to his features. “Impressive,” he remarked, strong and stalwart, meaning inflected in the course of the short phrase, eyes gesturing to the bag, to the filaments and powder held within. “What is it?” How did he make it? What did he intend to use it for?
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
