where the wild things are

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

"If only." Remi chuckles with feigned cheerfulness that wants to descend into something far more wicked. Following the Huntsman into the clearing where not 10 minutes prior a herd of deer had been grazing without concern, the alchemist folds his arms comfortably across his chest to watch his husband. There was little he could do in the way of helping—flight of this sort was not a two-person operation—but at least he could catch him if he fell.

As Ronin's wings blot out the sun for a moment leaving Remi's mind groping with images of black leather, he too spreads his wings to join the Huntsman in the sky. They are quite the pair now, their shifts seeming to settle all the more into fairytale tropes quite without their permission. Whatever they look like, it all feels perfect to Remi.

"I have always wanted to fly with you, like this." Arm capes were simply not the same, despite the tight leather outfit that they came with. "Now come on, and catch me if you can." So saying, the alchemist's wings snap down to his sides and then extend as he settles into a warm pocket of air that helps boost him higher into the sky.