i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time
but i flicker from time to time
I think you have too many things on your plate now to spend your time wondering about things that will not be. Remi points out, offering the tigress a small smile.
Aurelia's question has him sitting up slightly straighter. It isn't one people normally asked; when you said your child had died, normally you received a pat on the back and an awkward conversational shift away from such dark topics. That Aurelia continued them forward was either a sign of her callousness or something much gentler. Just now, Remi wasn't sure which. With a soft sigh, he tugs his shirt over his head revealing a body well-abused by the world. Scars race up and down his flesh, but as he sits up and turns toward her, the most obvious one is the grotesque mass of twisted flesh in the center of his chest.
Running a hand idly across it, Remi raises his eyes. "Two years ago at the Fiat Lux festival..." He begins. "Aoife and I were making flower crowns..across the field there was a giant gourd rolling about, but it seemed like it was being dealt with." The alchemist's fingers tighten for a moment, and through the attuned bond there is a distinct knot of grief and a lately fury that has never quite burned away. "Someone—" No, not someone. Loren. But even now, Remi can't make himself say the Launceleyn's name. "—threw spears of ice." Raising his hands slightly to mime how he'd been holding Aoife against his chest, directly where the scarring was its worst, he shook his head. "The ice impaled us both." He whispers.
Aurelia's question has him sitting up slightly straighter. It isn't one people normally asked; when you said your child had died, normally you received a pat on the back and an awkward conversational shift away from such dark topics. That Aurelia continued them forward was either a sign of her callousness or something much gentler. Just now, Remi wasn't sure which. With a soft sigh, he tugs his shirt over his head revealing a body well-abused by the world. Scars race up and down his flesh, but as he sits up and turns toward her, the most obvious one is the grotesque mass of twisted flesh in the center of his chest.
Running a hand idly across it, Remi raises his eyes. "Two years ago at the Fiat Lux festival..." He begins. "Aoife and I were making flower crowns..across the field there was a giant gourd rolling about, but it seemed like it was being dealt with." The alchemist's fingers tighten for a moment, and through the attuned bond there is a distinct knot of grief and a lately fury that has never quite burned away. "Someone—" No, not someone. Loren. But even now, Remi can't make himself say the Launceleyn's name. "—threw spears of ice." Raising his hands slightly to mime how he'd been holding Aoife against his chest, directly where the scarring was its worst, he shook his head. "The ice impaled us both." He whispers.
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.
