Not quenched until I drown

walked out this morning and i wrote down this song.
i just can't remember who to send it to

There was no need of a shirt even at night, given how warm Torchline is. No need of one to cover up the immense amount of scarring that covered Remi's sternum and throat either; he had never been one to care for his appearance. Perhaps that was all the clearer now, given his dishevelled curls and bearded-cheeks, his appearance made all the more unkempt given he was currently living on the beach or out of the back of a wagon that he and Ronin had stolen.

Conjuring rocks into his hands, the alchemist was skipping them out across the dark water. They didn't make it very far given the lapping waves, but that wasn't the point. Remi couldn't sleep (not uncommon these days) and draining his frustrated energy this way was marginally better than going to the Hanged Man to start a brawl. It was closer, if nothing else.

Nothing but muscle, scar-tissue, and anger now, Remi threw each new stone with more zeal than the last, his lips curling into an ugly smile each time his efforts were drowned by a wave.