would that I could

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

It wasn't how Remi had planned the evening to go, but really, he should have known better than to think he could just waltz into the Grounds and expect nothing to come of it. After leaving Nate, the alchemist gathered up the bundle of flowers he'd been carrying, softly arranging the petals as he placed them into the crook of his arm. Luckily he'd heard the ascended with enough time to place them somewhere safe before their little discussion. Bruises and bloody lip aside, had anything happened to the flowers Remi would have been properly angry.

And so, flowers in one arm, with a torn collar and fresh bruises on display, Remi makes his way into the infirmary with a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation brewing in his stomach. Already its been longer than he'd have liked since he saw Isla last, and he can't quite find the words to describe what it is he feels about what happened between them.

"Isla?" He calls as he enters the infirmary, blinking to adjust to the change in light.

Apprehension and anticipation is about right for the two of them - the difference being that Isla has been very, very busy since the sun rose once more. The infirmary, at least, is looking functional and clean again, and the Grounds is less littered with bits of proto-Ascended (aka LongNight monsters). Isla has just sent someone on their way having bandaged a nasty burn on their arm, and the infirmary is otherwise quiet at this time of night. She might even be humming to herself when footsteps interrupt the rhythm, and she turns automatically towards the door. Had she breath, it would have caught in her throat to see Remi suddenly there, and though there are a lot of feelings about what happened and how many times during LongNight, he's still her best friend at the end of it all. She still loves him in more ways than just the physical, but it doesn't stop the butterflies that flop around in her stomach. Then, of course, she sees the torn collar, the tell-tale signs of a fresh fight. "Remi! Who hit you?" There's delight in her voice as well as concern, and she sweeps up to wrap him in a hug. "Oh, whoops-- I don't want to squash the flowers." Isla the flesh is weak

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

Boyish and battered, Remi tries to save the flowers, but of course he's much more keen to hug Isla. His worry melts away as her arms encircle him, and were it not for the apology he felt he owed her and the fact she was clearly working, he might have just scooped her up and tromped away with her somewhere dark and quiet.

"Ah, well, they're yours to squash." He says with a laugh, his free hand releasing her slightly if only so that he might offer her the bouquet. "They're...all flowers that close up at night." He explains with a bashful smile, shrugging his shoulders as if suddenly embarrassed by the thought he'd put into selecting them. '..it's...because you...' are an ascended and can't be out in the sun? Yes idiot, she's clever enough to have gotten that.

Feeling his lip split anew with his smile, Remi blots at it with the back of his hand, frowning at the blood. "It was...Nate." He says offhandedly with a shrug. Bruises have begun to darken around his throat, and on his stomach he'll have a lovely reminder of where the ascended's knee rocketed into his gut.

Isla doesn't work very hard to let Remi go either, but she frees a hand enough to look at the bouquet. It's true, and she does know exactly what kind of flowers they are, but to hear him try to explain it is adorable enough that she can't even think of trying to stop him. Her fingers dance across the petals, and her expression softens to one of unfettered appreciation; she can't smell the flowers, but she can certainly enjoy them. "These are beautiful, Remi. Thank you so much - what's the occasion though?" she wonders, leaning in again to give him a gentle squeeze before beckoning him through so she can find a vase for the flowers. Hearing that it was Nate to have caused the bruises on his neck and the blood on his lip, though, has Isla turning to glance over her shoulder with clear shock on her face. "...Why?" she blurts out, completely sidetracked and moving instead to lead Remi to one of the beds, that she might clean him up. Isla the flesh is weak

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

Remi's smile stutters across his lips, growing and then shying away like he can't quite decide if it's appropriate or not.

However as the focus moved from petals to punches, Remi just frowns silently, his brows furrowing enough to make the ridge of his brow look entirely neanderthal with how pronounced it becomes beneath his curls. 'Well, it's..' Led toward one of the beds, Remi plops down, wondering if describing it as complicated is accurate. Deciding it isn't, the alchemist strips off his shirt that the medic might also ensure he doesn't have an internal bruising.

"Vai was attacked, and everyone pointed to Sunjata as having done it. I killed him in a dream, to make sure it wasn't him." It's all said smoothly enough, as if Remi is still describing the flowers. Truly, he still doesn't understand why it's as big of a deal as everyone is making it out to be, but that's neither here nor there. "And..Nate was upset about that." He concludes with a shrug, gazing up at Isla and feeling the strangest dissociation between the man he is now, shirtless with a bloody lip, and the man who had thought that he might survive another day if only he could spend it between her thighs.

Like any good physician, Isla listens quietly and gives Remi all the time he might need to explain the situation. She takes the bouquet and sets it to one side, gathering together her tools and rolling up a stool to sit before the Lullaby. Her intention is to look him over and perform the physical examination while he tells the whole story, but she freezes to hear about the dreams, about killing Sunjata. She knows them all - Nate, Jata and Remi - and yet she's still rising to her feet to wrap her arms around the alchemist's shoulders at the end of it all. "I'm so sorry," she murmurs. "How is Vai? How are you? Why didn't-- well, I suppose you weren't really in the mood to talk about it the last time we saw each other, huh?" There's a dusting of silver on her cheeks, but she's not keen to delve into that while he needs looking at. Eventually Isla steps back and sits down again, getting together some gauze and antiseptic to dab at his lip. "We can't take you anywhere, can we?" Isla the flesh is weak

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

Her hug is so surprising that he doesn't know what to do for a moment. Everyone who has heard the story thus far has responded with horror and unfettered disapproval. Even Vai, who didn't know the full story was still hesitant in her understanding. Even though the worst of it was gone and the wound wasn't still quite as raw, it's with wordless appreciation that Remi bows his head against Isla's shoulder, his arms wrapping around her. It is perhaps the type of physical encounter with her he'd needed during LongNight, but even so, the alchemist can't say that he didn't get most of what he'd needed from Isla during their night together just the same.

"No." Remi agrees softly, his throat suddenly tight, though not because of the bruising left by Nate. Though it certainly isn't the same passionate need for her that the alchemist feels now, but even so he's reluctant to let her go.

'Apparently not.' He agrees with a humourless laugh. 'I'm not sure if Nate thought I owed him an explanation or apology, but..' Remi shrugs, licking at his bloodied lip. "I think in the end he was probably more angry that he couldn't hurt me." Which, was understandable. The alchemist was fully prepared to let the ascended have his way with him if it would help—same as he'd offered to Sunjata—but certainly it must take a bit of wind from their sails, knowing how very little they could actually do to him.

Dabbing the blood from his lip, Isla smiles up at him and reaches up to brush an errant curl out of his eyes, as if she can cheek him up just with her presence. She can't of course, but she still feels bad for all that he's been through - even the things he's arguably put himself through. "There's something quietly infuriating about not being able to hurt someone who's hurt you," she agrees. "I imagine that's part of the reason the Ascended are so hated." Absently she swats at him, as if to tell him to stop licking at his lip, dabbing at it a few more times before straightening back up so she can examine the rest of him. Her cool hands press gently at his throat and his abdomen, her brow furrowing as she concentrates a little more. "It doesn't look like there's any lasting damage, but with you, I'd be surprised if there was. How do you feel?" Isla the flesh is weak

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

That isn't my fault, Remi wants to say, but instead he just silently clenches his jaw and lets his eyes sift towards the floor. Having had the misfortune of bad things happen to him both inside and outside of his control, the alchemist has entirely lost touch with the things he's properly entitled to sulk about. "You can be hurt." He says instead, as if that's at all relevant to the conversation.

Flinching away from her touch, Remi just gazes docilely up at her as she dabs at his lip again. Feeling her hands on his stomach has him sipping in half a breath before he catches himself, as if realizing that he shouldn't enjoy it as much as he's tempted to. "Just tired." He replies, ruffling a hand through his curls and then placing his palm behind him to lean back on the bed.

"I...I had planned to come and see you." Yes. The flowers were evidence of that. Well done. "What I mean is...I..." His lips move but nothing comes out despite the way his brows furrow as if enough facial gesticulating will somehow do the work for him. '..during LongNight..' Mmhm, no shit. "..I just...well, I wanted to say.." Anytime now. "..that.." Frowning, Remi looks down, his cheeks flushed. The truth was, he didn't know what he wanted to say, and having Isla before him didn't suddenly make it any clearer. He wasn't sorry, but he was. He wouldn't have changed things, but then again, he might have.

"Maybe on the inside, sure," Isla says with a soft smile. "But I don't feel pain. Even if someone were to seriously injure me, they'd not get the enjoyment of hurting me." It isn't what Remi means and Isla knows it, but it needs saying just the same. He gives off all the right signals for someone who is hurting but who is used to it, and just tired has practically become synonymous with I'm not okay but I don't really want to talk about it. So Isla doesn't - she merely checks him over, then mixes up a soluble painkiller that should take the edge off, offering it out in a small paper cup. Then Remi's talking again, Isla sitting before him and offering a gentle smile as he trails off, reaching out to take both of his hands. "You don't have to say anything, but I appreciate you trying," she assures him, giving his fingers a squeeze. "I just want you to know that you scratched an itch for me the same as I scratched one for you. I understand, and I don't think things need to get weird if you don't want them to." Isla the flesh is weak

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

'Ah.' Remi nods his understanding at that, falling silent as she continues her examination. Looking up into the corners of the room to distract his mind from fabricating things that didn't exist between them—couldn't exist, anyway, outside of the room—trying not to let himself wallow as Ronin had mentioned he had a tendency to do.

Bringing the cup to his lips and swallowing the contents in a quick tilt of his head, Remi holds onto the cup with agitated fingers that pinch at the paper walls. Glancing at Isla as she takes his hands (setting the cup aside), the alchemist slumps slightly as his fingers close around hers. 'I made a mess of that.' He says with a dry puff of hollow laughter. "What I mean to say, is thank you. For what you let me do. For what you stopped me from doing. For being with me in ways I...didn't know I needed." Then, slyly and sheepishly both, he adds: "Or wanted."

Biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from looking at all proud that he'd been something pleasurable for Isla and not just a menace, Remi snorts and offers the medic a crooked smile. "And if I want it to be weird?"

"You did, but I forgive you for it. I think you told me once that words have never been your strong suit," Isla says with a fanged grin, not at all minding. She can't help but raise her eyebrows, though, to hear his thanks, and she leans in to give him a gentle nudge with her elbow. "I didn't think it was all that customary to thank people after that sort of thing," she murmurs, though the mischievous slant to her blue eyes suggests that she's only teasing. "But since we're on the subject... thank you, as well. What happened was - well, I - ...fuck." Isla's laughing now, shrugging her shoulders to him. "I made a bit of a mess of that too, didn't I? What I mean is that I needed it just as much as you did. It had been a long time since I'd been touched by anyone. I'm glad, that it was you." There, that's not too weird, right? Speaking of weird, though. "In what way?" she inquires, pretending that his remark hasn't set more of a silvery blush to her cheeks. Isla the flesh is weak

i found cynicism, i found criticism
i've been zero to hero & i have been the villain

"No, they aren't. And I don't see it changing anytime soon." He admits with a chuckle. If anything Remi has gotten worse at verbally communicating, what with his attuned and emotional abilities and dreamscapes he can use to express himself.

'As if either of us would know.' The alchemist quips in return, his fingers reaching for the elbow she'd use to jab him to bring her closer. He's well aware she doesn't - can't - feel what he does, the slow uncertain burn low in his stomach or how her blue eyes sends a shiver down his spine, but it doesn't mean he can't reverberate his own feelings back into her. It isn't as scalding as his desire had been in the room, but even now, there's an ember that refuses to burn away.

'Well," Remi begins with a smile, one of his eyelids lowering as if he's about to wink, but he turns it into a side-eye instead as he removes his hands from her skin. "It would be weird if you didn't know what I was thinking when I looked at you." His eyes fall down her body and then back up again, as his brow raises. "Am I thinking of what I know is underneath?" Offering Isla a skeptical look, Remi eventually shrugs as if even he doesn't know the answer. 'Or not?'

"Walking by that door and remembering how it felt the break the lock with my hand if only to be with you in all the ways I never knew I wanted?" Remi softly shakes his head. "I'll never just be your friend, anymore Isla." Stretching out his fingertips again, brushing them over the back of her hands and up her wrists, the medic will feel the flush of his attraction for her. It's a feeling that promises to be patient most of the time, but harbours a tenacity that will, sooner or later, demand attention. "You know me better than anyone, I think." He adds softly, the colour of his emotion growing more golden. "And that was some of the best sex I've ever had. I can't pretend it didn't happen, and if that makes things weird..." Smiling down at her, the alchemist can only shrug. "So be it."

"Words aren't all they're cracked up to be, a lot of the time." Isla shrugs her shoulders. For medical purposes, sure, but when it comes to the more complex world of feelings? Sometimes they just don't cut it. Such is the case right now, because as Remi draws her closer and his emotions begin to thrum through her, she's heedless to stop him. It's like being caught in a tide that's pulling her out - every wave steers her a bit further from the shore, and Isla's barely noticing. The silver sheen on her cheeks would be a vibrant, rosy pink if she possessed blood instead of fluid, and the medic clears her throat and turns over her hands that she might ghost her fingertips across Remi's palms. He's a predator, and it's something she knows so well these days that it makes her bones itch. But he's more than that - and the addition isn't less or more; it's exactly how it should be, for Isla. "Not all weird has to be bad," she says slowly, shrugging her shoulders. "And between you and me, you can sweep me away to that room whenever you feel like it. As long as I'm not in the middle of working on a patient, that is." Smiling softly, Isla glances to the ground. "It was the best sex I've ever had," she admits. "Life as a field medic and a duchess doesn't make for the most exciting love life." Isla the flesh is weak