Remi
Welcome to the wild, no heroes and villains
Welcome to the war, we've only begun
Welcome to the war, we've only begun
Wondering whether or not to take the bait, Remi presses his teeth together for a moment as he debates opening up this particular can of worms. In the end, he decides that since he won't be able to kill himself any time soon, he supposes he has nothing to lose by TalKIng AboUt His FeElInGs.
"No, hope doesn't frighten me." He begins in a measured voice. "But what you all--" Presumably just Ronin and Isla. "--think of as hope or reasons to live or things that make it not so bad...they aren't even really bandaids at this point." Running a hand through his hair and then leaving it behind his head, the wendigo leans back with a frown. "Take painting my room. Yes, that's nice. Not seeing the pink is obviously an improvement, but it's still a cell. Dress it up however you like, but I'm still imprisoned and there's only so much set dressing you can do." Unsure where he's supposed to look, Remi's eyes scan the ceiling and the walls as he speaks. The closest he comes to making eye contact with the hunter are a few general glances around his partner's shoulder.
"Say Isla does find a temporary cure, so what. Imagine that Dr. Grimm allows me..what? One night out a month, which is a generous assumption by the way, my life is still one as a slave, Ronin. I don't choose when or what to eat. I can't come and go. I have no rights, no freedoms.
So no, it isn't hope that frightens me. It's the fact that everyone here seems so blind to what my situation actually is, that you think what you're offering counts as hope."
Now, feeling like a gigantic asshole, Remi's gaze drops back into his lap as they both sit and stew in the awkward silence. It's Ronin who breaks it first, and had the wendigo not just gone on the most long-winded rant of his entire life, he might have snarked something along the lines of, yeah, what else have I got to do? Instead, he just lifts his eyes and studies Ronin's face for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I was."
"No, hope doesn't frighten me." He begins in a measured voice. "But what you all--" Presumably just Ronin and Isla. "--think of as hope or reasons to live or things that make it not so bad...they aren't even really bandaids at this point." Running a hand through his hair and then leaving it behind his head, the wendigo leans back with a frown. "Take painting my room. Yes, that's nice. Not seeing the pink is obviously an improvement, but it's still a cell. Dress it up however you like, but I'm still imprisoned and there's only so much set dressing you can do." Unsure where he's supposed to look, Remi's eyes scan the ceiling and the walls as he speaks. The closest he comes to making eye contact with the hunter are a few general glances around his partner's shoulder.
"Say Isla does find a temporary cure, so what. Imagine that Dr. Grimm allows me..what? One night out a month, which is a generous assumption by the way, my life is still one as a slave, Ronin. I don't choose when or what to eat. I can't come and go. I have no rights, no freedoms.
So no, it isn't hope that frightens me. It's the fact that everyone here seems so blind to what my situation actually is, that you think what you're offering counts as hope."
Now, feeling like a gigantic asshole, Remi's gaze drops back into his lap as they both sit and stew in the awkward silence. It's Ronin who breaks it first, and had the wendigo not just gone on the most long-winded rant of his entire life, he might have snarked something along the lines of, yeah, what else have I got to do? Instead, he just lifts his eyes and studies Ronin's face for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I was."
Higher and higher you chase it
It's deep in your blood, go and take it
It's deep in your blood, go and take it
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.
