Lost in the shuffle [OPEN]

The alchemist's mind was not particularly concerned with the overall metaphysics of this place. He'd leave the hows and whys to those with minds better suited for those tasks. Instead, what Remi was really interested in was how this place? world? universe? might be importantly different from the one from which he'd just come.  The first thing he wanted to test, was whether he could still shift into his hawk form. It wasn't an integral part of his identity, but certainly it would be a good indicator just how far removed this place was from what he was used to.  Closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath, Remi trotted forward a few steps as he'd done so many times. Trying not to let his mind be weighed down by doubt–lest his body decided to follow–he leapt nimbly into the air and spread his arms. Wings sprouted from arms which were rapidly shrinking; bones became hollow, legs and feet shrunk and contorted, and soon his body was lifted easily into the sky. With a piercing cry of joy Remi allowed his consciousness to sink happily into the familiar mindset of the hawk's body.  Gliding along, Remi found that he had to beat his wings a great deal more than he would have had to otherwise. Something about the air felt stale up here. Unmoving. Storing away this nugget of information for later, he watched the landscape below begin to change slightly. It still appeared desolate and unyielding, but the fact that there appeared to be segregated aspects of the land seemed promising.  Gliding lower, the alchemist (or perhaps former alchemist, given that much more primitive tasks would likely be required of him now), landed. Though he hadn't considered it before, he was relieved to find that his clothing had indeed been transported with him. Running a hand through his curls and taking a breath, Remi glanced around. Coral blossomed in his cheeks from the effort of his flight and though his eyes were not as keen as they were as a hawk, his pale sea-glass green stare still took in his surroundings with a quiet scientific diligence.  remi How do you steal what you really want When what you really want is free?

   

Yeah, Elyna didn't care about how this world worked either. What she did care about though was people wandering off on their own. Indeed, as she watched the figure take to the skies, she sighed, and got to her feet from where she'd been sitting. Although the bird had the advantage of flight, she had the advantage of super speed and had absolutely no trouble keeping up. When the man landed again, she wasn't even feeling all that tired from the trip. Ignoring the state of the other man (clothed unclothed, tired or fresh as a daisy didn't really matter to her) she walked up to him, a displeased expression on her face. "Going somewhere? Think maybe you should've told someone before you wandered off?" Unless and until they figured out what the fuck was going on around these parts Elyna wasn't comfortable with anyone being alone. For all they knew, there were dangers lurking around every corner.

Speaking of, she scanned their surroundings, keen eyes looking for any sign of danger. Nothing immediately sprang to mind, but she stood in a ready stance; she kept the man in her peripheral vision but most of her attention was turned outward. Once she figured out what had brought bird-brained man to these parts she could get him to turn back.

Rory

This: for centuries—or so the story went—the status quo had been kept. The unfortunate few trapped by the barrier lived and bred and died, every idea thought, every theory tested, every last drop of creativity exhausted. There was no coming out. There was no getting in. There was only the constant, slow change of seasons, the hazy world beyond their invisible wall a constant siren song that had driven some to death over the long, long years.

There was only the tenacity of their spirits, the never-ending slog of keeping alive, today, tomorrow, day after tomorrow, today, tomorrow...

They lived on dreams and memories and stories and vague, half-buried hopes, but no one tried anything anymore.

Rory frequently wondered about it: how they accepted their existence, merely put their heads down and went on, and on, and on. Lived and bred and died. Waiting for the gods of nearly-silent shrines to save them.

But how long was it going to take?

The scruffy bay pony he was astride was an older gelding, sturdy and steady; not Rory's favorite, for she had an abscess in her left hind hoof, but he was good enough. Forward, but lacking initiative. Pleasant, uncomplicated, but not exactly someone to converse with. He seemed to accept and agree to absolutely everything Rory asked, and it frustrated him.

Still, he was a good choice for this type of thing—he'd been out here before, and while his ears were moving perhaps a tad more than usual, he didn't spook. There was just.. something about the borderlands. And that was why Rory was armed with a crude but serviceable pike.

And while weird things sometimes happened out here, there weren't exactly supposed to be people out here.

Bakshi—the pony—had suddenly pricked his ears and raised his head, and out of habit Rory's eyes went in the pony's direction.

And.

Like.

What.

He raised a hand to shade his eyes, staring out across the expanse of flat and deserted land, and what remained the only thing he could properly think.

Because that thing over there, taking his pony's attention, looked like people. Two of them. They weren't supposed to be there; least of all were they supposed to be standing still. Not that it really was Rory's business—he figured they were just two more lost idiots going to try their luck with the barrier—but.. Eh. If they went and got themselves killed, it'd be good if he could tell someone who they were, at least. While you sort of knew someone who knew someone who knew someone until you knew someone who knew everyone, Rory didn't know the name and face of everyone.

So he clicked to Bakshi, who obediently fell into a trot, and without the slightest idea of what he was getting himself into, Rory approached the strangers.

He'd be in for a hell of a surprise once he was close enough to see that they definitely weren't from around these parts.

Remi hadn't exactly expected to be followed. Perhaps if he hadn't been so overwhelmed (underwhelmed?) by the barren landscape he might have seen the blur that was Elyna charging after him. The shape changer had only met the guardswoman once, after the Hali's party on the beach. The two of them and the captain and Vanya had all gone to the training grounds for a bit of fun, but other than that one brief experience he really knew very little about her. So when she appeared next to him with a disapproving scowl on her face, the alchemist tilted his head as if surprised, mild concern flushing his boyish features. "I–" He began before her words silenced him. It wasn't as though she didn't have a point, it was simply that Remi had never really been beholden to anyone before. As a commoner he was more or less free to do as he pleased; who would be concerned about the comings and goings of someone like him? "No, you are quite right. I wasn't thinking. This is all so..." Glancing around, Remi could only shrug, before turning his pale gaze back towards the former-blood fiend. With a small smile, Remi again shook his head as if to erase his merger attempts at justification. Elyna was right. He should have told someone. Before he might have verbalized this, the sound of hooves on the hard packed earth–a sound so completely foreign even in this world full of new things–immediately drew his attention. Jaw dropping slightly, for horses were an incredibly rare occurrence in Northaven, much less the sort of thing he expected to see here, Remi was stunned to see the figure of a man approaching. The alchemist wasn't remotely concerned with his masculinity such that he felt compelled to try and defend Elyna (she was likely the stronger and more well suited to combat anyways), instead opting to stare in wide-eyed amazement at Rory's approach. The alchemist hadn't even considered the possibility of others being here, though now that one had appeared it didn't seem terribly unlikely, but even so his mind began to race with the possibilities and implications of this. "Hello–" Remi called, his accented voice melodically hugging the greeting as he raised one of his hands in what was meant to suggest something like peace. "Do you speak.." Trailing off, Remi bit his lip slightly as he fell silently. He had meant to ask whether the man spoke the common tongue, but of course this wasn't Northaven at all. Whatever had been common for them at home likely wasn't here. "Do you understand me?" remi How do you steal what you really want When what you really want is free?

   

Clearly Remi hadn’t been thinking. There hadn’t ever been a doubt of that: striking off on one’s own in a potentially hostile environment was not the mark of an intellectual. Her estimation of the man’s intelligence was swiftly ticking downwards. “Not thinking gets people killed. You wanna get people killed?” Her words were curt, but that wasn’t anything new; in fact, she was being friendly, for her, by not trying to drag this idiot back to the rest. While she could understand the confusion and the urge to explore, they should be smart about it. Perhaps a bit of fear would do the trick. “I normally wouldn't mind so much if you get yourself killed, except there aren’t enough of us to risk anyone at this point.” Her tone didn’t soften, nor did her expression, but at least she hadn’t physically accosted him yet. She could probably do it—even if he could turn into a bird—despite the fact that she felt downright sluggish in this new world.

At the familiar (but entirely unexpected sound) sight of a mounted figure in the distance, Elyna felt her protective instincts spike; she instinctively stepped into a defensive posture and moved in front of Remi, glaive springing into her hands from where it had been strapped to her back. Luckily she’d been training when she got transported here, so she had at least some of her gear. A horse was something she recognized, but certainly wasn’t expecting to find here: horses had been scarce in Northaven. Seeing as none of the Northaveners had brought over a horse as far as she was aware, and seeing as this horse had a rider, this was unusual and not necessarily welcome.

As the mounted figure approached, Elyna’s eyes widened as she finally put two and two together. There were natives, and while Remi might be willing to greet them peacefully, she wasn’t so naive as to think they’d be treated well as intruders. Keeping a firm grip on her weapon, she hissed as the alchemist stepped forward. “Stay back. Remember what I said about not thinking?” Moving forward, she examined the mysterious figure for any signs of a weapon or an attack. She didn't see anything, but she wasn't comfortable with the height advantage he had. “We mean you no harm, but I warn you, we will protect ourselves if we need to. Please identify yourself.” Her voice rang out, more challenge than anything else; even if this new person couldn't understand her words, hopefully he'd understand her tone and her posture. And more importantly, hopefully Remi would trust Elyna to handle this.

Rory

Bakshi was, in many ways, the embodiment of life within the barrier: sort of slow and steady. He was made to work diligently, to be patient, and to endure.

No wonder those two were going to take a crack at the barrier.

Rory had done it a few times too. It was unpleasant and utterly pointless, but at certain points in your life you were just so fed up with everything that you thought you could get through on sheer willpower and desperation.

He wondered if they'd tried before—if they knew the snap of the magic, and if they did, he wondered what sort of plan they had devised.

The steady two-beat rhythm of the pony's jog was the only sound in the barren, flat landscape. He resisted its peaceful lulling, doing his best to stay sharp. It was monotonous. Until—

"Hello–" one of the two figures called, his voice decidedly masculine, and lilting in a foreign fashion. The dim daylight glinted off something bright in the hands of the other; Rory tensed, and Bakshi, being the dumb horse that he was, merely looked concerned, but jogged on.

Likely that was the only reason they ever made it closer.

It was like—like—he didn't even know what. The weapon—he saw it was a weapon now, held by a woman who looked like she knew what she was on about—was finely made, putting his old pike to shame. Too fine to be of his world. Their clothes, while he could not make out the details, were different: the cut and the colors and the quality.

The way they held themselves was different. The question; the threat; their existence. They were

not

from

here

and his mind tried to understand the implications of this, but he was too shocked to think at all. It was just a ringing in his ears as he sat there on his unassuming, dusty pony: a man with a tousled blonde braid and a worn-and-patched greatcoat and a pike that looked like someone forgot how to care for it ten years ago.

Like the caged animal that dreams of freedom his first taste of it tasted like fear.

That was the first thing he registered after having stared at them for a good twenty seconds from the safe distance of ten-fifteen yards (Bakshi, being sensible if not very exciting, had stopped of his own accord): his heart was hammering, and it was a fine line between fear and elation.

His mouth was dry.

The left hand, gripping the worn leather reins, had white knuckles. The other hand he found covering his mouth. Slowly, and self-consciously, Rory let it fall to rest against his thigh. "Sweet Safrin," he whispered, the closest he had come to praying in a long, long time.

He took a deep breath. "I am Rory," he managed to say, feeling sick, sounding nervous; it was so unlike him, but he was rattled to the core. This—meeting people not from here—was something he'd daydreamed of as a child, among many other things. How they'd come and offer salvation and triumphantly he'd follow them out into the world beyond—a world he often thought they would've been better off having forgotten. It was hard to long for something you didn't know existed.

And now it was happening, only—he wasn't prepared—how could he have been?—and she was pointing a glaive at him in a very businesslike manner.

"How did you end up here?" he meant to demand, but it came out sounding weak and sickened, as if there was something very, very wrong.

Which, y'know, there was.

Submissive was certainly an understatement when it came to the alchemist—despite the steps he'd taken recently in his personal life—and so as Elyna moved in front of him, she did so without any argument on Remi's part. Even so, the briskness of the former guard's actions and the way her words seemed to cut right to the heart of all that Remi had hoped to skirt around made him inwardly shiver slightly. Remi and Elyna likely couldn't be more different; where the alchemist was sensitive and open, Ely was all hard edges and business. Where Remi's cadence was disarming and kind, Ely's was weighty with command and power. As the older man spoke, the smile that grew across Remi's lips was instant and elated, his expression one of boyish joy and eagerness. He'd been almost sure that the man on the pony would somehow be kept at bay by language, no matter how similiar they were in appearance. In only made sense after all. That they could somehow understand one another was a miracle in itself, and one the alchemist was happy to take for granted as he grinned with an unabashed cheer from behind Ely. "I am pleased to meet you Rory." Remi ventured, glancing sideways at Elyna, wondering if her command of the situation was meant to extend to introductions as well. However as Rory asked how they'd ended up here, as if that bit of contextual lingo was at all informative, the smile on Remi's face faltered slightly, growing rather crooked. His sea-glass green eyes, previously bright with hope and curiosity now dulled slightly as he looked to Elyna in earnest now. How did they get here? Remi didn't know and he was almost certain Ely didn't either. One moment they had been, and the next? Only that wasn't quite right, was it? It wasn't a snap from one moment to the next, but more like a fog. Or perhaps like closing your eyes while drifting downstream in a river. "Where...is here?" The younger man asked, stepping forward and hoping that Ely wouldn't chastise him for it. There were bound to be bits of something in his pockets—Remi often brought home leaves and things he thought would be good for teas—and sure enough, a few small sprigs of mint grass were buried down in the corner of one of his pockets. Glancing up at Rory to gauge his approval or not, the alchemist would extend this meager offering towards the pony in a flattened palm, his eyelashes fluttering as he gazed upon the pony with a sort of weary thrill, having not seen one in some time. remi How do you steal what you really want When what you really want is free?

   

The random seemed friendly—if a bit confused at their presence—but Elyna wasn’t buying it. They had no idea what was going on here, but in her mind, it was simple: they had been brought here for some unknown and potentially nefarious reason, and now they had met the first person who wasn’t from Northaven. Therefore, it wasn’t too hard to assume that either this Rory character knew more than he was saying or that he was actually responsible for their current plight. Maybe that was a pessimistic and uncharitable worldview, but tough. The world wasn’t kind and Elyna saw no reason to be either. Her companion did not seem to feel the same; Remi was treating this as if the encounter was a normal run of the mill one, like they’d come upon an old friend. Yeah, no, she was going to take a different approach. "Remi. Quiet." Her voice came out firmly, but softly, not wanting to antagonize the alchemist. Actually, Elyna would very much like to know the answer to the question about where they were, among other things, like what the fuck was going on here. But it was going to happen on her terms. Baring her teeth—not a smile, but a show of aggression—Elyna pointed her glaive unwaveringly at the mounted man. "I’d very much like to know where we are and how we got here as well. But seeing as you’re the first unknown person we’ve come across in this place, I’m pretty sure you’re involved in this somehow. And unless and until you convince me that this isn’t your fault, I’m treating you as a hostile.” At least she was being honest about it. Maybe others would disagree, but they weren’t here and she was so conditioned to treat everything (especially men) as a threat that she was almost incapable of seeing this as anything less than dangerous. "So, Rory, if that’s your real name, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get down off that horse. Then we’re going to talk, and if I don’t like the answers you give us, I’m going to march you back to my people and let them decide what to do with you.” Her blade shifted suddenly, moving towards one of the horses legs; while she didn’t cut it, the threat was obvious. Time to see how far Rory could get with a lame horse. That was, of course, assuming he tried to run. Besides, the people who needed to eat were hungry, and horses were supposedly good eating, even this old and tired looking one. elyna Improving upon perfection

Rory

She reminded Rory of a cougar, contemplating the pounce.

He reminded Rory of a fox kit, all eagerness and innocence.

They were opposing forces, and Rory was caught between them—an unwitting sparrow suddenly snatched from the sky by two struggling hawks. His eyes went from the brilliant smile of the man to the threatening posture of the woman, back and forth, as he awaited an answer that did not quite come. Just a question, one that could mean anything except this: that they were from Caido. Rory had a feeling that if anyone lived outside the barrier, they knew about this place, about the Spire, about the wastelands they couldn't cross into.

But before he had much of a chance to answer, the man pulled something—something green—from his pocket and advanced, even as the woman shushed him.

If it hadn't been for her he might've stayed put.

But between her hostility and the glaive Rory wasn't taking any chances. He shifted his weight and backed the pony up, trying to maintain the ten yards between them; Bakshi looked a little offended, but true to his nature, didn't question. Just raised his small, hard hooves and stepped back across the lifeless earth. "Stay where you are," he told Remi in a voice that shook a little, his nervous gaze flitting back to Elyna when she leveled the glaive towards them.

It wasn't the first time Rory had been threatened. This side of the barrier, you ran out of first times for things pretty fast.

But boy did he hate it. He was there on poor Bakshi, heart cold, mind cold, numb and worried and anxious and angry all at the same time, as the loathsome woman even called him out on his name, and ended by feinting a blow—sort of toothless at the distance, but her prowess with the weapon was not lost on him—towards them. Towards Bakshi, maybe. He didn't know. It'd been aimed low.

Rory took a deep, steadying breath. He knew—from experience—that the best thing to do was comply.

Worm.

He didn't want to risk Bakshi's health, but he was a, well, a power card: Bakshi was an advantage to whoever had him, and Rory was too muddled to figure out which path would be the safest for the pony. Had it been his favorite mare, well, she was smart enough to realize that the woman was bad news and he could've counted on her to run off at least a little ways if he chased her off, but Bakshi? Bakshi would, at most, trot ten yards away and look offended and then get horribly killed.

"I will get off," he called out, knowing that he was gambling with wolves, "and for the entire time my feet are on the ground, so will your glaive be. And you will not come closer." He felt sick, but he mustered what force he could and stared at her, waiting for some sort of agreement—or attack, in which case he was going to make the most of his carefully curated ten yard safety gap and try to get at least the horse out.

Remi drew in a sharp inhale as Elyna spoke at length to the older man on the horse, his lips remaining slightly parted as if to speak her name in rebuke. He didn't of course, such was not the alchemist's way, but an anxious need to placate the gaurdswoman strongly fell over him. Ely wasn't wrong in what she was saying but it all seemed so.. unnecessary? Remi knew–or thought he knew–the power that the former bloodfiend possessed, and for his part, he'd retained his ability to shift into a hawk (and he'd actually gained a shift, not that he'd figured that out yet though); surely they could handle one lone man on a pony? Was all this show of force truly necessary? Given Remi's non-military background it made sense that his thoughts formed in such a naive way, believing instead that conversation and understanding was the best route forward. Apparently however, as Rory drew the pony back, Remi would find himself alone in that opinion. Dropping his hand disappointedly to his side, the alchemist's pale stare rose to look curiously upon Rory. It was free of judgement, if not slightly wounded. Remi was no naive idiot, but he did often gravitate towards believing the best in people regardless of how many times that assumption was proved wrong. But then Rory spoke with words–if not tone–that seemed to match Ely's. Glancing backwards towards the guard, Remi retreated a few steps to stand next to his raven-haired counterpart feeling at odds with the pair, both of whom seemed to have happily donned positions of mutual distrust. And so the alchemist opted to remain silent. remi How do you steal what you really want When what you really want is free?

   

An ominous rumble echoed in the wake of Remi's indecision. It thrummed through the ground beneath their feet like a monster clearing its throat, threatening to split the earth before settling once more. A few birds scattered. Nothing further occurred.

ely Despite what both men might think, Elyna wasn’t totally unreasonable. Now that she’d established she was dominant, she could afford to lower the aggression a bit; actually, it wasn’t really an option, since she’d expended what little energy and strength she had. Apparently, in this world she could go out in the sunlight without burning to a crisp without a ring—which was lucky because it had disappeared during the trip over here—but it made her weak as a newborn kitten. She could get by in fits and starts, but nothing more than that. ”Deal.” She honestly didn’t have a choice and that rankled. So the butt of her glaive came to rest on the ground and she sagged against it. Though she was very much not looking like the fierce warrior she had been a moment ago, she still watched Rory with wary eyes. Any sign of trouble and she’d see if her drained limbs had another burst of power within them. For now, though, she felt that she’d have to rely upon Remi, of all people, to deal with this potential enemy. Based on the alchemist’s previous performance, she wasn’t hopeful: he hadn’t exactly proven himself to be stalwart in the face of a potential threat. Of course, then she had bigger issues to worry about: the ground beneath them seemed to shake and Elyna promptly fell on her ass despite the support of her polearm. While she wanted to get up, her sluggish limbs wouldn’t allow it just yet. Apparently all her hard work had gone out the window and she no doubt looked incredibly foolish. While she didn’t much care about Remi’s opinion—her opinion of him was quite low—she knew for a fact that she’d probably just screwed them over when it came to Rory. She glared at the strange man, trying to salvage what little dignity she had left. ”The fuck was that? You get earthquakes out here?” It seemed to have been highly localized, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation. Whatever it was, it didn’t bode well. So far, their first diplomatic mission (or whatever this was) with one of the natural inhabitants of this world was going pretty shittily. Maybe it was time for Elyna to let Remi play good cop for a bit. She glanced at the alchemist and tried to communicate nonverbally that he should do something, anything, to make this both less embarrassing for her and beneficial for Northaven. If not, she could yell at him later; for now, she was relying upon him to get his act together, since she was currently out of commission.

Rory

Open, likable faces were dangerous. Rory knew better than to cave in and try to assuage Remi's disappointment—he'd learned most of this while growing up. An unforgiving and harsh land bred unforgiving and harsh people.

Still, it pricked his heart to see him change, to watch him drift back to the woman.

But what had Rory expected? For the handsome stranger to ally with him, against someone he obviously knew? No—while he had held on to some sort of hope that he would try to pacify the situation, he remained silent, but the woman spoke. ”Deal.”

Rory sat still a heartbeat longer, surprised at how easy it had been, and.. concerned about her sudden shift of demeanor. In the blink of an eye she went from strong and ferocious to, well, weak and tired.

He didn't trust it. And while he would've liked for her to drop her glaive entirely, he still had his ten yards, and he'd mounted enough ponies on the go to know that he could get back up on Bakshi in a heartbeat again if need be. So with a little sigh to steady his nerves, Rory swung a leg over Bakshi's withers and slid off.

Barely had his feet touched the ground when it rumbled and shook.

Perhaps the biggest sign that this was out of the ordinary was Bakshi's reaction: the normally placid pony tossed his head and took a couple of prancing steps until the reins stretched. "Easy," Rory murmured to him.

The woman—now sitting on her butt—demanded an explanation, and while he very much preferred this slightly less threatening version of her, he didn't trust it one bit.

But why go to such extreme lengths if she only wanted to lull him into a false sense of security?

He discarded the thought. They had other, bigger things to worry about. "No," he responded distractedly, not quite sure what an earthquake was but pretty sure it wasn't this. Licking his lips, Rory turned around on the spot, trying to figure out which direction was the best to head in, because if something was going to happen, he didn't want to be caught out in the open.

Again, he was torn: what he should do was take advantage of the woman's physical lapse, get up on Bakshi, and leave them to their own fate, but..

Likely they had no idea where they were.

Likely they had no idea what could happen.

And it wasn't as if Rory knew all that much better: he'd heard stories, he'd seen some things, he'd had some inexplicable encounters, but this had been a first for him. He wanted to curse, but Vi's name died on his lips. "You are in Caido," he said as he turned his attention back to them, an urgency in his eyes, his voice. "A barrier exists around this place—nothing comes in, nothing goes out. It's been in place for some three centuries, or so we reckon. It's—" He paused. Licked his lips. He'd never known any other life than this, had only heard tell of stories of the Caido outside, memories of great-great-great-and-so-on-grandparents who spoke of a time and society so different that surely they'd been warped in the retelling. Such a place couldn't exist.

But life here was hard, on everyone. It was an isolated place full of lean creatures. Only evil could thrive here.

"You're probably stuck here with us. This—the outskirts—is the worst place to be. That tremor—might've been nothing, might've been a precursor to something worse. What? I don't know. You, lady, can you walk? Because I advise we do our best to get out of here before we find out which it was."

Which was Rory for I'm getting out of here in about ten seconds and if you're not coming with, I'm not stopping for you.

"Elyna–" Remi murmured instantly, strong arms reaching out for the woman who no doubt wanted neither his aid or his concern. Still, it was not in the man's repertoire of behaviours to simply stand by while someone fell. The ground had shook beneath them yes, but not enough to have upset someone like Elyna entirely. For a moment the alchemist's fingers were outstretched towards the guard, but it appeared that Ely had no intention of standing again. That was perhaps the most worrisome; even someone like Remi knew the position she'd placed herself in put her at a decided disadvantage. Something was very, very wrong. Looking anxiously towards Rory, pale green eyes alight with confusion and care, he watched as the man steadied the prancing pony, immediately taking a like to him. Perhaps it was something about his nature as a shape changer (nay, Attuned here, though he didn't know that yet), but a gentleness towards animals was always a welcome trait in Remi's books. As Rory began to speak, the alchemist listened intently. Caido. Alright. A barrier? Centuries? Remi's lips fell open as he tried to survey the lines of Rory's face, looking for a hint of malice or deceit. Though the man was a handful of paces away, the alchemist saw nothing to suggest he was being anything other than truthful. "We are not.." Remi began, the words stuttering from his lips and sounding all the more thickly accented for his lack of care. "I have never heard of such a place. We just ... appeared here. Has that happened before? Was it ... intentional?" As Rory addressed Elyna, Remi turned his attention back towards the guardswoman. Again his fingers twitched; Remi would be more than happy to assist Elyna in any way that he could, but something in her demeanour even now seemed to keep him at bay. remi How do you steal what you really want When what you really want is free?