you're living make believe

REMI

the alchemist

I've said that hope I'll never find
To my myself I must confide

"Isla." Setting down the bodies with infinitely more care now that there was time and space to give them the respect they deserved, Remi turns back toward his friend. Smoke clings to his curls and his skin is mottled with black ash, but he looks no worse for wear despite having been dropped into a burning room with the single goal of mercy killings. "Talk to me." He implores, unsure if the medic's succinct reply was because she was in shock or if she was merely being curt and logical.

Behind him the building continues to burn, smouldering from the inside out. The walls will still be there once the sun rises, but everything his friend has worked so hard to build—and rebuild—will once again be gone.

"I am so sorry...what...what happened here?" Only vaguely aware that the fae Nephele is still lingering, his question is nevertheless only directed at Isla.

That there's no choice outside your mind
when your heart is overthrown

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Isla take your medicine Isla is categorically in shock, something that manifests in swift compartmentalisation the likes of which she hasn't needed to implement upon herself since walking the battlefields of Northwind. Nephele is forgotten for the moment - she can apologise and meet with the strange Fae helper later, she thinks - and for now all she can do is try to rub out a soot stain from her white coat with no luck. "I don't know what to say," she admits as the infirmary continues to burn behind them, as people scream and call and hurry to try and douse the flames. There will be nothing left though - Isla is certain of it. "Someone set fire to the infirmary. And then you came, and you... killed my patients. You didn't see me in the room with you. I don't..." She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter now. I think I ought to get away from this heat, though."