REMI
the alchemist
I've said that hope I'll never find
To my myself I must confide
To my myself I must confide
"You are what matters most to me." Remi replies gravely. He would be a negligent father that he might be a good husband if it comes down to it, though he doesn't actually think it will need to. "War is no time to raise a child...perhaps...I have heard of Frey ageing children quite rapidly." His shoulders rise and fall, unsure if he ought to continue. Ronin's bitterness makes everything seem like an intentional obstacle that Remi isn't entirely sure the Star wants to be overcome. Or maybe just not yet.
"But maybe we could." Remi bites at the inside of his upper lip, wanting to push away everything they've made in this dream thus far and replace it with just the blue of his husband's eyes. "We have never asked. There might be a way we can." It would always be the case that the pair would owe their children to a god in some way or another, but maybe there was a way that was less invasive than it had been in the past.
"What do you want, Ronin?" Remi asks in a low voice, accompanied by an uncertain shiver of emotions, full of fear. "You do not sound like a man who wants to try and make things work, right now..." Safrin's way was easier, because of course it was. "I would choose a thousand complicated lifetimes with you, over paradise with anyone else." Much as it grated at his soul until he felt reduced to nothing but ashes, such was the truth of the moment. "But if it is not the same for you...I do not think there is anything I could say or offer that will change that." Because Remi was all the things Safrin wasn't: mortal, messy, ridiculously flawed, prone to making the wrong choices. Even the things he could offer, Safrin could as well. He always thought his love was better than hers was, but perhaps that wasn't the case.
"But maybe we could." Remi bites at the inside of his upper lip, wanting to push away everything they've made in this dream thus far and replace it with just the blue of his husband's eyes. "We have never asked. There might be a way we can." It would always be the case that the pair would owe their children to a god in some way or another, but maybe there was a way that was less invasive than it had been in the past.
"What do you want, Ronin?" Remi asks in a low voice, accompanied by an uncertain shiver of emotions, full of fear. "You do not sound like a man who wants to try and make things work, right now..." Safrin's way was easier, because of course it was. "I would choose a thousand complicated lifetimes with you, over paradise with anyone else." Much as it grated at his soul until he felt reduced to nothing but ashes, such was the truth of the moment. "But if it is not the same for you...I do not think there is anything I could say or offer that will change that." Because Remi was all the things Safrin wasn't: mortal, messy, ridiculously flawed, prone to making the wrong choices. Even the things he could offer, Safrin could as well. He always thought his love was better than hers was, but perhaps that wasn't the case.
That there's no choice outside your mind
when your heart is overthrown
when your heart is overthrown
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.
