would that I could

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

Remi can't help but let his head tilt back, his cheeks round and dimpled as he shakes his head at the ceiling. "Oh I see. You couldn't have just let me believe it was good because I happened to be good at it?" He wonders, lowering his chin and shooting her an imploring look. "Instead of it being good because you were busy and lead a pretentious life before." That said, Remi pauses, giving Isla a curious look for a moment before breaking out into a smile again. "You know, I'd forgotten you were a duchess."

Clearing his throat and not bothering to hide the way his pupils seem to dilate with a predatory despite all of a sudden, Remi pulls in a breath that makes his lungs hurt. "Much as I would carry you off right now, I've been informed that I've been using sex as a bandaid so that I don't have to deal with my problems." Rubbing his fingers up the back of his neck and then up through his curls, he lets his hand fall back down into his lap. "And seeing as i'm sitting here having you check up on me after being punched by a friend..." He trails off, not really needing to spell it out more than that, despite how his mind was already imagining pressing her up against the counter behind her.

"Remi," Isla says, and suddenly her own voice is low and tinged with an almost predatory need; it's compounded by the glint of fangs against her lower lip when she smiles. "If the sounds you heard me make in that room didn't tell you that you were very good at it, I'm not really sure what more I could say to convince you." Raising her eyebrows, she purposely sits back on the stool lest she drag him closer, torn collar and bruises and all, to press a kiss against his lips. "Also, it was hardly pretentious, cleaning blood and shit and infection out of war wounds." It had certainly made her into the woman she is today, but pretentious is not the word she'd use. Collecting up the paper cup to throw it in the waste basket, Isla still doesn't miss the way Remi inhales, the sudden danger she almost senses from him, and there's a reason she puts some space between them. Gazing back at him, Isla nods both her understanding and her confirmation that his checkup is over. "Well," she says, "in that case, your lip is already healing, and those bruises will be colourful, but they don't look dangerous. You can go back to the Greatwood in peace." Isla the flesh is weak

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

Offering the medic an imploring look, her words like a dangerously warm wind against the embers in his belly, Remi bites at the inside of his lip to keep the words on his tongue from spilling out: well, perhaps you'll have to remind me every now and then.

"Ah, well, I wouldn't know, would I?" Remi says, of being a duchess. "Besides, it couldn't have been all that. I'm sure you had to don a dress and go to some stuffy event at some time or another."

Her nod is both a relief as much as it is a disappointment, leaving Remi to reach for his shirt and tug it back on. Why he bothers he doesn't know, torn and dirty as it is. But he'll change before going home. 'Colourful but not dangerous. The opposite of most deadly animals, then." He chuckles. Then again as a manticore, he'd fairly blandly coloured for how deadly he is.

"No, back to Stormbreak likely." Remi says with a shake of his head. "I live there now." He adds with a grimace, still hating the way it sounded. "Though I'll still be in the Greatwood as often as it takes to finish things."

"Oh, of course. I used to wear the most wonderful dresses and attend the stuffiest of events. I actually quite enjoyed dressing up," Isla informs Remi with a half smile as she cleans everything up after his examination. "Perhaps one day we will have to arrange the closest thing to a ball as the Hollowed Grounds can. I'll invite you. We'll put you in a suit and I'll wear something extravagant and unnecessary." She tilts her head, like her suggestion alone would be enough to convincve him to go along with her ridiculous plans. It's a surprise to hear that he lives in Stormbreak, Isla gathering together a little more of the painkiller she's prescribed him so he can take some more if he needs to. "Oh," she says. "Well, I'll have to start sending you letters, then. If I start hanging out at the borders of the woods, it might seem a little weird. How are you...?" She nibbles at her lower lip. "That is, how are you these days, Remi?" Isla the flesh is weak

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

"I like half of that plan." Remi says, scrunching his nose. His first thought was that a ball meant decadent food in all likelihood, which would probably offset the torture that would come from being squeezed into a suit. "I did go to that masquerade ball in Northaven. Did you?" What mask had he worn? Something with..broken stones?

"I don't want to live there really, but...it's what's best for Ronin and Mateo. Ronin has joined the Order, so.." The alchemist shrugs a touch at that, not liking it, but accepting it. Looking up to Isla with a grin, Remi tilts his chin slightly. "I thought we'd said not all weird was bad?" He wonders, verging on a laugh before her latter question mops the smile from his lips.

"I don't know, half the time. Ronin and I have been...working on honesty. Things nearly ended between us after what happened with Sunjata." He admits, looking down into his palms. "I nearly ended it, that is. But it made us both realize how much we'd been lying to ourselves and each other. How little we actually talked anymore."

Were he and Ronin better than ever? Yes. Did that make everything magically easier? In some ways yes, and in some ways it was very much the opposite.

Masquerade ball? Is it bad that Isla doesn't remember - likely because she's been to so many masquerade balls in her time? "Maybe," she says softly. "...Maybe we ought to do another masquerade. Then you could like all of that plan." She knows it definitely isn't the masquerate that will sell it for the Lullaby, but it's better than admitting that any ball that's mostly Ascended likely won't have the sort of food he's looking forward to. It's a thorny sort of story that the alchemist tells, one that has Isla pursing her lips a bit as she reaches out to tuck the painkiller into Remi's pocket. (She's not to know that he appears naked after travelling through dreams). "The Order, huh? Should I start adding locks to my doors then, lest he calls by?" she wonders - they've all heard stories about the Order, after all. "I'm so sorry to hear that the two of you had it so difficult, though. That..." Isla blows out a breath, reaching out to give Remi's hand a squeeze. "I think it's really important that you're together in the same place now. You both need it." Isla the flesh is weak

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

"Well, don't be so sure. The last one I just remember seemed like a big excuse for the royals to sleep around." Then again who knew, maybe it was exactly what Caido needed. Or maybe it was the opposite.

Frowning, Remi looks at her, heartbroken and defiant both. "From what I hear the Grounds are already working on ways to keep Order members out...but...no. I would never let anything happen to you." It's an impossible and stupid promise to make, especially given their combined histories and who they both were now in this world. But still Remi means it with everything that he is.

"Mmmmm." Remi agrees with a nod. It was for the best, and all the moments spent with Ronin in their new home made it all seem manageable. But they couldn't stay locked away like that forever, no matter how much Remi might want it. "But I've been told that I wallow too much, so I'm trying not to do that." Remi adds, forcing a smile.

Isla wrinkles her nose at that, unsure that this sort of masquerade ball was entirely her thing, and there's no guarantee that anything organised here in the Grounds wouldn't culminate in a sort of Ascended orgy either. "Maybe we can just dress up without the ball," she suggests with a smile twitching on her lips, either unaware or uncaring that what she's suggested sounds an awful lot like going on a date with Remi. He vows that he won't let anything happen to her, and Isla brushes her thumb along the back of Remi's hand, both appreciative of his saying so and painfully aware of the impossibility. "I appreciate that," she almost whispers, and it's with a lot of reluctance that she lets him go to step away properly. The forced smile earns a raise of her eyebrows, and she moves to set the stool back where it belongs with a smile she doesn't try to hide. "I'm not sure pretending at happiness is better than wallowing," she murmurs. Isla the flesh is weak

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

"Sure, we could...well, probably not a picnic." Remi realizes halfway through the suggestion. "Stargazing, perhaps. Maybe I could figure out just how far away Stormbreak actually is based on the stars." It doesn't occur to the alchemist either, just what a whimsical tableau he's constructing either: the pair of them dressed to the nines, sitting beneath a ceiling of stars for no other reason than because they want to.

"I will." He reiterates, pulling in a breath that hides the way his lips want to pull down around a frown.

'Well, I'm not sure about anything, anymore.' Remi replies with a laugh that has more life in it than his smile had. "I don't know how to be the way I once did." Standing reluctantly, Remi puts his hands in his pcokets. "But I"ll get there." Who he says this for even he isn't sure at this point, and his boyish shrug says as much.

"Stargazing sounds wonderful," Isla admits with a sigh that gives away all of her longing - it has been so long since she's done something remotely ordinary, and the whimsy of dressing up and going stargazing, whilst not ordinary, certainly beats fighting LongNight monsters. "Would you show me how to map them?" she asks. "I have always wanted to learn." She says nothing to his insistence, not wanting him to think that she doesn't think he's speaking true, and instead as Remi rises to his feet, Isla moves to wrap him in a hug that's a lot warmer than the heat her body is able to produce. "Just be the way that makes you happiest," she says softly. "That's all you should care about. And in the mean time, make sure you're not a stranger at my door, okay?" Isla the flesh is weak

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

"No Isla, I'm going to make you draw dots next to me and then critique you for doing it wrong." Remi says with a snort, beaming at her adoringly. As if he'd ever do such a thing. "We can also bring paper and poke holes through it where the stars are. Then you use them as window coverings, and the light shines through where the stars had been."

Surprised by the hug if only because of how his admissions had brought the mood down, Remi immediately pulls his hands from his pockets to return the gesture. He, of course, is always warm, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his nose beside her neck.

"Maybe I'll even show up at your other door one of these times." He chuckles, his lips moving slightly against her skin because of his refusal to let her go.

"If you do that, the next time you come to learn anything from me in this infirmary is going to be positively hellish for you," Isla says affectionately, though her voice is muffled against his chest and the fabric of his shirt. "The rest sounds lovely, though. I'll bring all of the supplies - you just bring your knowledge and yourself." Nodding, he's not the only one who makes no move to step away, and Isla lets her hands press gently down the length of Remi's back; both an act of comfort and to check for any other injuries she might have missed. Chuckling at his remark, Isla peeks up at him with an incredulous raise of her brow. "I have no idea if that was an innuendo or not, but it could be taken in so many ways," she informs him, turning her cheek to rest her head properly against his chest. "I love you, Remi. I want you to try and take care of yourself, okay?" Isla the flesh is weak

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

"I'd like to see you try." Remi retorts with perhaps a bit more heat than he'd intended. Whatever the line was between genuinely enjoying a bit of pain with his pleasure, and having it be an unhealthy coping mechanism, was not at all clear to Remi. It probably never would be again, truth be told. 'I can do that.' He agrees with a delighted smile.

As her hands roam lower, Remi sips in a breath, the muscles of his ribcage and upper back tensing. "You do know I can feel that." He says with a hesitant laugh, unsure if Isla had genuinely forgotten that she could no longer touch him in a way that was purely clinic anymore, or if outside of the room, it didn't occur to her just what that sort of touch might feel like for someone currently at the hand-holding stage with his husband.

Her words have him blinking with feigned ignorance, and it's probably for the best that her cheek was against his chest just then. Letting his eyes slip closed, out of tension and relief both, he holds her against him, simply enjoying the closeness of her. "I love you too." He mumbles against the top of her head as he presses his lips into her golden hair.

"Keep up your sass and you will see me try," Isla grumbles, though there's no malice in it - in fact, he'll be able to feel her smiling against his chest, and she nods in agreement. "Alright. We'll arrange a time and go out and stargaze. I'm not sure I'll be able to do much about the ballgown, but you can come in a suit if you like." He won't like, she knows that much, but the offer is there at least, right? Right. She's been mapping the way his muscles shift and tense, wondering if she's reached an area of bruising or tenderness when Remi speaks, and suddenly Isla's cheeks are flushing silver. "Oh...! Oh, I'm so sorry." Letting her hands drop, the medic awkwardly clears her throat and gives him a very platonic pat on the back, leaving it at that. "Force of habit," she mumbles, though it's a poor excuse at best. And so they stand in their embrace for longer than would be considered appropriate by anyone's measures, Isla caring nothing for it. And when she does eventually let Remi go to get back to his husband, it's with a kiss to his cheek and a promise to be in touch soon. That is, if he doesn't come knocking before then. ~FIN Isla the flesh is weak