the lullaby
Though Remi's own flames don't hurt him, the steam that superheats the air around him as a tidal wave of water is thrust down upon him, does. Crying out in surprise—how strange that his throat was so sore—Remi shies away from the steam, rolling to the side. Temporarily doused, the fire that is his body at the moment, reasserts itself with a baleful hiss. For anyone else the steam might have peeled back a layer of skin or two, but the Lullaby is made of sterner stuff.
With eyes made all the more green by the maroons and yellows curling around him, Remi looks up into his husband's worried face, before his gaze is pulled down to his hands, which aren't really hands at all anymore. Not unlike his wraith form, Remi is only just on the side of corporeality (is that a word? well it is now); his hands are vague shapes that waver with heat and light.
"Ronin?" Looking up at the Huntsman as if this was his doing, Remi shakily gets to his feet, looking back and forth between his hands, and his husband.
With eyes made all the more green by the maroons and yellows curling around him, Remi looks up into his husband's worried face, before his gaze is pulled down to his hands, which aren't really hands at all anymore. Not unlike his wraith form, Remi is only just on the side of corporeality (
"Ronin?" Looking up at the Huntsman as if this was his doing, Remi shakily gets to his feet, looking back and forth between his hands, and his husband.
Every shade of hurt you know
From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
From the deep blue to the marigold
It's gonna make sense someday lookin' back
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.
