maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane
'Once, I always was.' Remi replies with a slight nod. It was true, too. He was humble and submissive and polite to a fault. "Lately though I've been accused of being a monster, so...I suppose I am just trying to find a balance."
He says nothing in response to her comment of his wings, though some of his longer flight feathers do shiver slightly as her fingers continue to wander over his pale plumage. "I've been...what this world calls an attuned, since I was young. I've always had wings, though..not quite like this." Indeed, before his partial shifting abilities were laughable, or at least, far less alluring. Having wings for arms did not draw the same reaction as having the wings that now sprouted from his back. They came from his most terrifying shift, though, which was likely ironic in and of itself.
Maeve points out the obvious, and Remi smiles apologetically up at her. The feathers are gone from his curls now, his mind soothed by the study of her, and he finds he doesn't mind the tug of her fingers in his hair. "I don't know." He answers simply. With his pants only half-unfastened, it isn't as though he has a raging erection that they might gauge his arousal by. But then, Remi wasn't that sort anyway. Not in moments like these.
She invites his exploration to become more detailed, and rather than answering, Remi tilts his cheek against the rise of her belly, that he might feel the softness of her skin and she might feel the brush of his unshaven cheeks. Placing his palms softly upon her hipbones, noting the way they subtly push against the taut whiteness of her skin, he extends his fingers to wrap around the width of her hips, before pressing in and upwards to where her waist narrows. Like a potter manipulating clay, his hands rise and wrap around her ribcage before softly flowing inward to her breasts. They are indeed perfectly-palm sized as he knew they would be, making it easy for him to hollow his hands against them so as to only lightly graze over her nipples. An errant sneeze from the alchemist has the ability to end Maeve's life, whether she realizes it or not, such is his strength. So it is that his movements are intentional and measured as he surveys the pale hills and valleys of her body.
'More?' He wonders after a moment, gazing up at her through sea-glass green eyes and gently furrowed brows.
He says nothing in response to her comment of his wings, though some of his longer flight feathers do shiver slightly as her fingers continue to wander over his pale plumage. "I've been...what this world calls an attuned, since I was young. I've always had wings, though..not quite like this." Indeed, before his partial shifting abilities were laughable, or at least, far less alluring. Having wings for arms did not draw the same reaction as having the wings that now sprouted from his back. They came from his most terrifying shift, though, which was likely ironic in and of itself.
Maeve points out the obvious, and Remi smiles apologetically up at her. The feathers are gone from his curls now, his mind soothed by the study of her, and he finds he doesn't mind the tug of her fingers in his hair. "I don't know." He answers simply. With his pants only half-unfastened, it isn't as though he has a raging erection that they might gauge his arousal by. But then, Remi wasn't that sort anyway. Not in moments like these.
She invites his exploration to become more detailed, and rather than answering, Remi tilts his cheek against the rise of her belly, that he might feel the softness of her skin and she might feel the brush of his unshaven cheeks. Placing his palms softly upon her hipbones, noting the way they subtly push against the taut whiteness of her skin, he extends his fingers to wrap around the width of her hips, before pressing in and upwards to where her waist narrows. Like a potter manipulating clay, his hands rise and wrap around her ribcage before softly flowing inward to her breasts. They are indeed perfectly-palm sized as he knew they would be, making it easy for him to hollow his hands against them so as to only lightly graze over her nipples. An errant sneeze from the alchemist has the ability to end Maeve's life, whether she realizes it or not, such is his strength. So it is that his movements are intentional and measured as he surveys the pale hills and valleys of her body.
'More?' He wonders after a moment, gazing up at her through sea-glass green eyes and gently furrowed brows.
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.
