where the wild things are

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

"I think the real question is, why do I" Remi chuckles back. Having been a feather-y creature since the age of 12, the alchemist can't imagine being anything else. But it is nice to have options where his husband is concerned, even if his feathers were apt to give Remi third-degree burns should his fingers get too curious about them.

Cocking his head to the side as if listening to his husband's emotions rather than feeling them, Remi considers for a moment before nodding. It can feel... Frowning, he too is unable to come up with the words for it. Instead, he projects feelings of a shaky recklessness followed by the stomach-churning sense of falling. Not unlike the feeling that takes over when one stands at the edge of something very tall, so too does the sense of vertigo rear its head all the way up here. The drop couldn't kill either of them, but would it bring a blackened sleep that neither of them could readily wake from right away? Absolutely it could.

Well that makes one of us. Remi jokes back. Though speaking of murder...What say we flush the rest of those deer out and bring one back to Vai. I owe her several hundred thank-yous at this point.