right now everything you want is wrong
& right now all your dreams are waking up
& right now all your dreams are waking up
Swallowing hard, Remi can't argue with what his husband has to say despite very much wanting to. If it all centred around him, the solution would be obvious. Even now, perhaps it still was obvious: if Remi was already a lit match and the Voice was still working on gathering her kindling, then without him, perhaps things could be prolonged.
Glancing around as their surroundings changed, Remi's smile grows, falters, then blooms. "It was just over there that I proposed to you." He says, glancing toward a doorway that led into a kitchen. "And there—" Turning to look at the front door, Remi chuckles under his breath. "Is where you came back from the dead. Naked, I might add. I was ready to kill you for ... well, pretending to be yourself." The guildhall had burned down, and though there were plenty of ghosts that lingered even now—Roana professing love and asking for death—it held some of their sweetest times, too.
Turning back to Ronin with tears in his eyes, Remi almost guiltily nods as his eyes close. "It's too much." He whispers, the admission offered as if it were some blasphemous thing. Trembling slightly now, even on the heels of recalling such good times—or perhaps precisely because of it—Remi shakes his head again as his fingers search for contact against Ronin's skin. "I can't." Tears trickle down his cheeks, not black, but an ink-stained purple. "Nate..Hotaru..Isla.." Unable to do more than form their names before grief and fury close his throat, Remi helplessly shakes his head again.
Glancing around as their surroundings changed, Remi's smile grows, falters, then blooms. "It was just over there that I proposed to you." He says, glancing toward a doorway that led into a kitchen. "And there—" Turning to look at the front door, Remi chuckles under his breath. "Is where you came back from the dead. Naked, I might add. I was ready to kill you for ... well, pretending to be yourself." The guildhall had burned down, and though there were plenty of ghosts that lingered even now—Roana professing love and asking for death—it held some of their sweetest times, too.
Turning back to Ronin with tears in his eyes, Remi almost guiltily nods as his eyes close. "It's too much." He whispers, the admission offered as if it were some blasphemous thing. Trembling slightly now, even on the heels of recalling such good times—or perhaps precisely because of it—Remi shakes his head again as his fingers search for contact against Ronin's skin. "I can't." Tears trickle down his cheeks, not black, but an ink-stained purple. "Nate..Hotaru..Isla.." Unable to do more than form their names before grief and fury close his throat, Remi helplessly shakes his head again.
The Lullaby
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.
