maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane
"Sorry." Remi mumbles with an apologetic smile as her fingertips brush against feathers.
He stands as she tugs lightly against him, however as she draws the border between the room closed, he eyes the tub with confusion. Her command and what she does next draw decidedly different reactions from within him; the former making him blink boyishly, while the latter makes his fingers ball into fists. "I—" He all but pants, teeth clicking together. "Don't." He says of her circling them. Already his fingertips have edged closer to being claws than human as his predatory nature stirs in his belly. "Please." The alchemist adds with a good deal more sincerity. "I don't want to hurt you, and these days...I'm not as in control of myself as I'd like to be." The clarification is said with a tone of apology, Remi's accent sweeping the words over his lips as he dips his head slightly—coincidentally making it all the easier for her lips to press against the back of his neck.
"I'm sure we won't both fit in there." The alchemist mumbles, eyeing the tub even as Maeve tugs at the bottom of his shirt. Still unsure what and how this is meant to do to help him, Remi shrugs out of his top, revealing a chest that's as marred by scars as it is carved by muscle. In the center, just below his sternum, is perhaps the most grotesque of his scars, silvered and still angry looking despite being nearly two years old now.
He stands as she tugs lightly against him, however as she draws the border between the room closed, he eyes the tub with confusion. Her command and what she does next draw decidedly different reactions from within him; the former making him blink boyishly, while the latter makes his fingers ball into fists. "I—" He all but pants, teeth clicking together. "Don't." He says of her circling them. Already his fingertips have edged closer to being claws than human as his predatory nature stirs in his belly. "Please." The alchemist adds with a good deal more sincerity. "I don't want to hurt you, and these days...I'm not as in control of myself as I'd like to be." The clarification is said with a tone of apology, Remi's accent sweeping the words over his lips as he dips his head slightly—coincidentally making it all the easier for her lips to press against the back of his neck.
"I'm sure we won't both fit in there." The alchemist mumbles, eyeing the tub even as Maeve tugs at the bottom of his shirt. Still unsure what and how this is meant to do to help him, Remi shrugs out of his top, revealing a chest that's as marred by scars as it is carved by muscle. In the center, just below his sternum, is perhaps the most grotesque of his scars, silvered and still angry looking despite being nearly two years old now.
THE LULLABY
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.
