half-baked dreams

all this time i was finding myself & i didn't know? i was lost

It all makes so much more sense when Ronin says it. Or perhaps it's simply because the alchemist is entirely enamoured by the lips that are saying it. "If that's the case, why not send them all potted plants which are really part of the Greatwood so that we can hear what they're doing." He suggests with a flippant shrug. "Or we'll just send the roots of the Greatwood farther west, and crumble the Grounds from below."

Striding over the tree with a weightlessness impossible in reality, he shrugs. "I suppose not." He replies with a grin. "They can still use the portal to get to the Mathair though. And there aren't enough of us to patrol." Remi points out, his fingers pulsing errant rhythms against Ronin's as they stroll. He has to try not to clench his teeth as the Star offers his assistance in speaking with Safrin. Knowing what he does about what the goddess has and hasn't done, the urge to cut her out of this entire process, even to the detriment of their little cause, is strong enough to make feathers ruffle through Remi's curls.

'Delphia also suggested that we ask the spirits of the dead to assist as well. I'm not sure if Mort would allow such a thing, but it might be worth asking."

THE

ALCHEMIST