leave me blind but play the reel

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

It was easy to avoid the rain when you could control the elements. The sand was wet beneath Remi but he hardly noticed it. Rain cascaded over an invisible bubble around him, a convenient mixture of air, water, and telekinesis keeping him dry with balls of fire on the sand to keep him warm. The magic should have been taxing, but for Remi, it wasn't. Ostentatious magical use wasn't his style, but for those that looked and understood, there was power writ clearly in just how easily the Alchemist was able to do so much at once.

But that wasn't all he was doing.

Remi had had to live without his magic for long enough that he knew what a crutch it was. So it was the object he was trying to build would work for anyone with the knowledge to use it. That knowledge was limited to only Remi just now, his invention looking like a strange assortment of pieces that didn't quite fit together. It was like a small raft with sails beneath the wood rather than on top, and a place for a fire to burn below as well. Fiddling with something, Remi sat hunched over, entirely lost in his own thoughts as grey storms swirled overhead.

awareness is the enemy of sanity

Finn is on the beach.

Finn was in bed.

And now he is on the beach.

These two things do not correlate.

Whilst he remembers getting up, remembers getting dressed, writing letters, eating breakfast, it feels faintly like it has happened to somebody else. Like he has been watching it quietly, until this point.

Perhaps it is because now that he is on the beach, he does not know what to do next. Touching a hand briefly to his glasses, he becomes aware that he stands in the middle of someone else’s aura. It’s a dark thing, this one - a powerful thing, speckled through with light and grief and hurt.

Finn recognises it, and as he glances up he finds the man it belongs to. The man who wears his face.

He has approached Remi before his feet can tell him otherwise, brow furrowed. ”What are you making?” The question leaves him - he cannot snatch it back.

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

Lost in his work and in a world of people who know him, Remi isn't really paying attention to his surroundings. So when Finn's voice rings out (ripples out, more accurately), it takes more than a few seconds for the Alchemist to even register it as being seperate from the other sounds he's actively blocking out.

Remi's hands stop their careful ministrations on the tools he holds as he glances over his shoulder to see an expression formed by a face he both knows and doesn't. The similarities makes Remi intuit more things than he otherwise would. It makes him more relaxed and distrustful of Finn, too.

"A boat that hovers on the water. I think during the warmer months, the heat from the ocean can be used as a propellant so that non-magic users can travel from shore to ship without having to actively row." The Alchemist explains, his accent making the words sound as if they could be some sort of story rather than a methodical explanation of Remi's intentions. "But it's too wet to test." He adds, and in so saying, realizes that Finn is not close enough to be beneath his magical barrier. Not unlike their first meeting with the Spyglass offered him a place beneath his own barrier, Remi extends his reach so that rain ceases to fall around his twin.

awareness is the enemy of sanity

Finn finds it easier to watch the contraption than to look at Remi, given their eerie similarities. His response, too, has the Spyglass leaning a little closer, keen to get a better look. ”Of course. The Alchemist,” he murmurs under his breath, recalling the portfolio of knowledge he has been tasked to dig up about each and every demigod (or those close to the gods). Clearing his throat, as if realising he has said it out loud, Finn straightens back up.

”It’s remarkable,” he says, glancing up at the sudden bubble of comfortable warmth that expands to cover him as well. You’re remarkable, is what nearly tumbles out after it, but he manages to keep that one behind his teeth. Stepping forward to examine the creation further, he runs a hand through sopping wet curls. ”Is this part of your role as Governor?”

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

Remi prefers to have his creations looked at rather than himself, so he finds Finn's gaze helps to settle him against the hackles he feels wanting to rise. Pausing to hear his moniker mentioned, the Alchemist blinks as if deciding whether or not to take offence; whether or not Finn has said the title as a taunt or a tease.

"It's..." Not a gift. Not an entitlement. Nothing owed or deserved. His magic is fickle and fleeting if the past few years have anything to say about it. Nodding as the warm air rises from the fires dancing on the sand, Remi finally decides on a close-enough adjective for now. "...convenient."

Shifting so that Finn can see the inner workings of the device—the canvas meant to provide buoyancy to the hot air, the propellers meant to catch the syphoned heat, where gears will eventually (hopefully) turn with enough force to propel the craft forward—and shrugs. "No, probably not. There's an argument to be made that it is, but...Torchline elected me for the things I can do. Not the way I think." Indeed it was. Shows of strength and unarguable power over his competitor is what 'won' him the role.

awareness is the enemy of sanity

Finn crouches down before the craft, peering at the inner workings, the way things all fit together just so. It makes sense, as he peels it apart in his mind; not something he could come up with in his wildest dreams, but certainly something he is interested in figuring out. ”It’s helpful,” he says quietly, and within those two words lie a thread neatly tied together, something he has just figured out about Remi.

”Perhaps you should show them more about the way you think,” he suggests, rising to his feet again and gazing up around the bubble of good weather that has been created around them. ”If it is too wet to test, why make it on the beach?” he wonders out loud.

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

Remi snorts absently at that, forgetting that this man wears his likeness and is (or did) try to recruit him into some preposterous war he has no interest in, and almost smiles despite himself. "You've obviously never been in politics." He comments wryly. No, Torchline has no interest in how he thinks over and above how he can help her. She doesn't want to hear about his brokenness or his aspirations to make ladders to reach the stars.

"Because it's quiet here." Remi mumbles just as absently. Only it isn't, in a way. The rumble of thunder is near-constant and the pelting of the rain upon the sea is a staccato rhythm that never breaks. But Remi doesn't hear it that way; the sounds of nature have never been interpreted his mind as a distraction. Rather, they help him think. "And...I like to build things where they go." That is harder to explain, and so Remi merely shrugs. It feels right to him, like part of the construction necessarily involves context.

"Are you here to try and convince me again?" Remi asks, glancing up. Finn towers over him, crouched down as he is and backlit by a tumultuous sky.

awareness is the enemy of sanity

Finn scoffs under his breath, still enthralled by the machine. ”I live politics,” he says, and for the first time perhaps there is a touch of bitterness to his voice, something sour that doesn’t belong there and yet has taken root, has seeded over years and grown. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he nods his agreement with Remi’s assessment. ”It is quiet here. And I suppose... you have a point. It belongs in the ocean,” he murmurs.

He does not try to work it out in his head; he and Remi look alike, and it has bred a sort of expectation between them, he thinks. Something they think they can get from each other. Perhaps that is why his smile is so sad as he gazes down at the other man, crouched on the sand with the rain roaring overhead, the storm brewing at his back. ”No,” he says softly, rubbing at eyes that are too tired all of a sudden. ”I don’t know why I’m at the beach.”

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

Raising a brow to hear Finn say so, not knowing the man well enough at all to know what his bitterness really means, the Alchemist merely nods with amused skepticism. "Governor or not, I rarely live it." He remarks. Indeed, it is probably his worst attribute as Governor. That or his deprived emotional state, according to Sam.

'You remind me of someone.' Remi says then, more to himself than to Finn. Belongs to the ocean is such a naive and whimsical way of saying watercraft, yet something in Finn's tone suggests something sad. Or foreboding, perhaps.

The Alchemist accepts this explanation immediately; many a night he has found himself on the shoreline with no idea how or why he has arrived. Only that it was good that he had. "I used to live near the ocean." Remi said, trying to discern the details of Finn's face despite the stark contrast. "I'm glad to, again."

awareness is the enemy of sanity

”You are better off that way,” Finn assures him. ”It will make you a better Governor.” He turns now to face the waves, watching the white horses race towards the shore, the slate grey of the sky colouring the water like steel. Blinking himself back to the here and now, he raises his eyebrows to hear he reminds Remi of someone. ”That,” he says, ”is the first time someone has ever said that to me.” The smile is still sad, but as he turns back to the Alchemist there’s a touch of amusement there too. ”Who?”

There’s little else to do, so Finn finds himself sinking down to sit in the sand on the other side of Remi’s contraption, enjoying the patter of the rain against his bubble of protection. ”My home is close to the ocean, but far from it at the same time. It’s always been untouchable, for me. Like a dream.”

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

Remi looks surprised but only for a moment. Probably because Remi has never heard such a thing said to him either. "Me." He replies, green eyes searching the sleet-grey the waters have rendered Finn's eyes as. "Me—" An eternity ago, now. "—before."

Not feeling the need to shift or move as Finn sits down, his distance appropriate enough that Remi's alarm bells stay silent, the Alchemist looks out towards the lapping waves. "You're lucky, then." Remi says of the incorporeal nature of Finn's dreams. He thinks of Ronin and Safrin and his neutral expression falters for just a moment before he concentrates his mind on something else. A vine of water snags outwards from the ocean, twisting and turning through the rain and blooming liquid-leaves. When it finally invades the bubble, it stops just short of Finn's face, the finger of the water-vine like a question mark.

"Almost everything in Torchline is made to be touched." Remi says softly. The water, the sand, the people. Though just because something can be touched doesn't always mean it should.

awareness is the enemy of sanity

Now it’s Finn’s turn to look surprised, and he lets out a soft laugh, rubbing at his forehead and pushing his glasses up his nose. ”Would you say that if we did not look so much alike?” he wonders, pulling his knees up enough that he might rest his forearms upon them. ”Spend enough time around me, and you will realise that we are not alike at all.” There’s no one quite like him, he’s been told that enough times. Never in a good way.

He’s also never considered himself lucky, but before he can respond the water is leaping up to see him, twisting and warping into something out of its own element. Finn’s breath catches in his throat, and if Remi is astute he may see the way his expression seems to grow vacant behind his spectacles, his eyes glazing. He reaches up to touch the water, stopping himself - barely. ”Is this real?” he whispers. ”It’s... you see it too, right?”

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN

i've seen fire & i've seen rain.
i've seen sunny days that i thought would never end

Remi considers the question for a moment, before shrugging. "Maybe not so fast. But it does make it easier to...see certain things." Gestures and their meaning. Or, their perceived meaning. Smirking, his shoulders turning somewhat towards Finn, the Alchemist raises a brow. "Do you really know so much about me and who I once was to know that?" Genuinely interested in the answer, Remi's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his head tilted, the Alchemist finding himself quite fascinated.

Remi does see the way his expression grows vacant, and instantly something in his gut recoils. He knows all too well what it is to not believe what your eyes tell you, to not know what is mere illusion from divine trickery. "It is. It's just me." Remi says in what he aims to be reassurance, but might just sound like dull commiseration. "A poor attempt at humour, since you said the sea was always untouchable." He explains, sound a trifle bashful as he clears his throat, the vine of water slipping back into the salty spray of the ocean.

awareness is the enemy of sanity

”It’s you...?” Finn risks glancing at Remi, the gesture fleeting, like he’s afraid he won’t catch the water-vine again if he looks away for too long. That it’s still there when his attention returns to it is reassuring, and he lets out a long and shaky breath, nodding. ”I see. It... was not a poor attempt at humour. It was merely poorly received. That is not your fault,” he explains, reaching out again for the vine just as it snakes away, returning to the depths.

Finn forces his shoulders to relax, his smile little more than a pantomime of the real thing. ”You aren’t wrong in that respect. It does make it easier... but I never know if I’m just projecting onto you,” he admits. ”I know little about the man you once were. But I know enough about myself that I would not disrespect you by comparing us.”

for once you hear the screaming

it never stops

FINN