maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane
"Maybe that." Remi agrees without turning to look; Vai's voice is a thing he'll never mistake for anyone else's.
"Are you making a point of staying wet?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder to where the rain hungrily clings to every inch of the witch. "You know you're always welcome here." At her grave, by my side.
Ignorant of so many things—like Vai's disappointment and anger with him—Remi merely interprets her space as respect for a conversation between father and daughter, however one-sided it might be. "Its nearly been a year.." The Alchemist mumbles, more star-shaped pebbles dropping from his hands onto Aoife's grave. "I don't know why it should matter. Day 360 is just as hard as day 365, and yet..." Well. They all measured time in years, now didn't they. A year was somehow more real, more devastating, than the days that fell just shy of it.
"Are you making a point of staying wet?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder to where the rain hungrily clings to every inch of the witch. "You know you're always welcome here." At her grave, by my side.
Ignorant of so many things—like Vai's disappointment and anger with him—Remi merely interprets her space as respect for a conversation between father and daughter, however one-sided it might be. "Its nearly been a year.." The Alchemist mumbles, more star-shaped pebbles dropping from his hands onto Aoife's grave. "I don't know why it should matter. Day 360 is just as hard as day 365, and yet..." Well. They all measured time in years, now didn't they. A year was somehow more real, more devastating, than the days that fell just shy of it.
THE ALCHEMIST
maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing
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.
