young and menace

REMI

the alchemist

What good are hands
if there's nothing that they hold

'You know, I cannot tell if I like the thought of that or not.' Remi murmurs with sudden thoughtfulness. As someone whose mind had been fractured more times than he'd like to count, whose body was silvered with scars, who had been blinded and broken, to think that a bit of shiny metal could somehow improve the spaces left by trauma seemed laughable. But then...well, streaks of gold were rather pretty, now weren't they? "Might just be easier to get something new." He concludes after a moment. Gods knew their lives weren't easy, and there were precious few things that Remi cared to make harder than they needed to bet these days. wink.

The appearance of another, whether an identical duplicate of Ronin or not, immediately has Remi tensing and coiling. Turning his head over his shoulder with his lips pulled up into a snarl, it takes far longer than it ought to for his hackles to lower and for the tension in his upper back and arms to ease. Grumbling something that sounds like agreement as he turns his attention back to the real Ronin, Remi raises an eyebrow.

"Oh? You would like to stay holed up all LongNight, then?" He wonders with a cheshire grin. "Or we could just have every meal in bed. I would not mind that."

And what good are hearts
if you bury them all alone?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!