REMI
the alchemist
What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold
if there's nothing that they hold
Remi did remember. He'd been there, having nearly died himself after all. Biting the inside of his lip to keep his mouth from running away with him, the Alchemist merely regarded his once-friend with a serious but silent stare. He wasn't here to lecture Sam on making good choices or to question the validity of all of this. He wouldn't even ask who had proposed this idea or how they knew it would work.
It wasn't his place. Sam wasn't his...well, anything, anymore.
"Fair enough." Remi said after a moment, perhaps with a shade more melancholy than he'd intended. "Well, I suppose if there's nothing else..." But still he sat where he was, fingers drumming ever so slightly against the top of his desk.
It wasn't his place. Sam wasn't his...well, anything, anymore.
"Fair enough." Remi said after a moment, perhaps with a shade more melancholy than he'd intended. "Well, I suppose if there's nothing else..." But still he sat where he was, fingers drumming ever so slightly against the top of his desk.
And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?
if you bury them all alone?
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
