frostbite

I've been sleepwalking, Too close to the fire
But it's the only place that I can hold you tight

It takes longer for Remi to return than normal, though what counts as normal when one is sent off to mercy kill is a touch ambiguous. What will set this particular situation apart from the others, tear tracks aside, is the healthy coating of blood that stains Remi's shirt, his forearms, and his face. The cottage had been quiet and cozy when the lock had been picked and the door swung silently open. The would-be assassins hadn't even time to scream before their throats were cut, staining Vai's floors a deep maroon which Remi would later regret.

Numb, but not from the cold, Remi had made his way home in the dark. If he had meandered he hadn't noticed, and by the time the houseboat came into view, the alchemist had lost all track of how long he'd been gone. On the windowsill, Oria trills a low and ominous sound as she taps one of her fingers against the glass, before chittering something in worried tones to Sugar.

Remi's steps are heavy on the stairs, and the hand that reaches for the doorknob is at first too slick with blood to turn it. Silence follows, as if the alchemist is deciding whether or not—or perhaps how—to try again.

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)