maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane
For a long moment, Remi says nothing. His gaze is fixed somewhere upstream, watching where the Stonesong became white and unruly as it bent around the bank. Clearly he can remember what it was like to wake up on Torchline's shore, confused and cold, with Aoife's body wrapped in a blanket behind he and Ronin. He can remember so clearly what it felt like to hate Ronin with every fibre of his being, but only because of how much he hated himself. He can remember refusing to come to terms with what had happened. Refusing to believe that anything could ever matter now that she was gone.
Clearing his throat slightly as if to shake his mind back to the moment, Remi's lips part slightly as he inhales. "It isn't for her." He answers in a low voice. "She isn't the one who needs it." After all these years (gods, when had it become years), still Remi was the one who couldn't forgive himself of his own guilt, who couldn't let Aoife go.
Clearing his throat slightly as if to shake his mind back to the moment, Remi's lips part slightly as he inhales. "It isn't for her." He answers in a low voice. "She isn't the one who needs it." After all these years (gods, when had it become years), still Remi was the one who couldn't forgive himself of his own guilt, who couldn't let Aoife go.
THE LULLABY
maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing
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.
