wrap myself around your bones

we are like birds of a feather, we are two hearts thrown together

As a hawk Remi is like a large balloon in an overcoat; he looks extremely solid and large. In reality, he weighs hardly more than a pair of shoes. So it is that Ronin's cheek against his feathers will feel a bit like trying to caress a puffed-up curtain or pillow. Even so, the hawk trills his appreciation, and his feathers do unruffle slightly.

Oh I was thinking something utterly unhelpful. Trees that laugh at you when you walk by. Roots that always rise to trip you, that sort of thing. The hawk replies, quietly judgemental of the things other lands had done with their various RQs. In reality though, he was thinking of something along those lines. Vines to trip and bind anyone not native to the Greatwood. Leaves that flared with sunlight when an ascended walked by them. Waters that could carry messages from one end of the Woods to the other to alert them of intruders.

I would not even say it is pretty. The alchemist comments, never having found Sunjata attractive himself, and finding that hatred had clouded his previously positive views of Nate. We? Bold of you to assume I was planning on lifting a feather today. Remi chuckles, hopping from Ronin's shoulder into his lap once the plate is set down, and fanning his wings to make himself appear quite large (but only so that Ronin could stroke beneath his wings).

THE ALCHEMIST

we will be forever as one, my brother under the sun