Whate’er befall
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#1
Riding Isla was strange. Not only was it strange knowing that she had once been a human—one of his very best friends—but it was strange to ride a creature with its own sentience that could burrow into your own. Let it be clearly said there was nothing sexual about Remi being upon her back; being an animal himself he knew the distinction of forms well, but this was far from that anyways.

Still, it was strange.

He'd made a crude saddle for Isla that looked a bit odd. But he'd followed the mare's guidelines about what hurt her back and where she required more padding, and eventually they came upon something that they were both more or less satisfied with. And so, alchemist, baby, and medic-turned-mythical beast cantered at an easy pace out of the settlement and towards the small farm on the Outskirts. Whether or not Remi's bad luck would persist and he'd find that Rory was once again not home as he hadn't been the last time Remi had shown up unannounced, the alchemist didn't know.

(perhaps he ought to invent some sort of communication system across the Hollowed Grounds?)

Looking quite the strange trio—the boyish alchemist, the midnight hued unicorn, and the starry-eyed child—Remi arrived on the farm. Though Isla had no bridle, and so Remi had no reins, the unicorn stopped easily on the border as 3 sets of eyes scanned outwards, hoping to find Rory .

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
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Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#2
RORY
i told the stars about you
Rory was sitting on a sturdy piece of fencing, his back turned towards the rest of the farm, attention on the goat herd browsing the sparse spring grasses. Ella, the more herd-y of the two dogs, was snoozing below him. A little further out, looking like giants among the goats, the three ponies wandered, and here and there kids capered and jumped and slept and did all manner of things that goat kids were expert at. Usually it involved mischief and bothering other living things.

He was perched where he was because of a goat lying some five-ten yards ahead of him; the herd had given her space, and Rory wasn't doing more than watching. She was eight years old or something, and had had plenty of kids before, so he wasn't worried. He just liked watching when he caught on to that a kidding was about to happen, just in case.

And besides, it was nice to take a moment to just .. be. Sit. Breathe. Listen. Watch. His hands were folded together for warmth and hung between his knees, still and calm for once. He'd noticed she began showing the first signs of labor that morning, and now she had entered the second stage of it, as evident by the fact that she was choosing to lie down. The first contractions had started, too.

Vaya, the black dog, was doing Dog Things™ around the yard when Remi rode in on his spectacular and majestic unicorn. She barked to announce their visitors, tail wagging proudly over her back as she trotted towards them, giving a couple of more barks for good measure (and probably to assert the fact that though they were welcomed guests, this was her domain).

Rory looked over his shoulder. It was difficult not to recognize the sleek, black form Isla inhabited these days, and he was briefly bitter about the fact that she was not a stallion.

Then again.......... That was also just weird.

So he settled for being content with the fact that his horses likely did not experience jealousy when looking at her. Raising an arm he waved to the alchemist, waiting for him to come over.
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#3
Possessing more feline instincts than canine ones, something inside of Remi wanted to come forward in an aggressive manner. To bare teeth, to roar and do any number of other decidedly un-Remi things. In Isla's mane his hand tightened only momentarily before it relaxed, and he gave the welcome-wagon a bright smile. "Hallo to you too." He laughed before dismounting with strange awkwardness. Now, horses of any kind had been rare in Northaven and those that were belonged to the upper echelons of society so Remi actually had very little practice around them. That and trying to dismount while holding a squirming child was difficult in its own right. Still, he managed it well enough (neither he nor Aoife landed in the dirt, so that was presumably a win).

Strolling towards Rory with Aoife sat easily in the crook of his arm, the alchemist came to stand beside the man sat so casually and yet so regally upon the fence. "ooooH!" Aoife cooed, one grubby and fat hand making squishing motions towards the goats and kids as they goated and kidded about. "Mm. Goats" Remi replied, gently kissing her dark swath of curls before looking up to Rory with a smile.

Though the flood of tears had made Remi feel hollowed and weak and tattered, the repetitive flush of them had made his eyes impossibly clear. Cracked and broken, at least the wounds had been flushed out. "Hallo Rory." He said with boyish ease, squinting up slightly into the sun and closing one eye as if that would help at all.

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
Change author:
Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#4
RORY
i told the stars about you
Vaya, fortunately, did not know anything about Remi's brief moment of ferocious instincts, and just waited with her tail wagging as he dismounted. Upon the fence, Rory shaded his eyes to watch the awkward procedure, snorting to himself in amusement as the alchemist managed to disentangle himself from horse and saddle and stirrup. It got the job done, but it lacked grace, and it was oddly endearing.

With her prey now on the ground, Vaya thrust her cold nose towards Remi's thighs, looking for a hand to nose and perhaps gently lick; begging for some ear scratches before eventually losing interest and being content to just follow in their wake. Rory had turned back to watching the herd, because something in the twisting motion had begun to pull uncomfortably on his back. He had been clearing out some encroaching saplings and bushes earlier, and he was beginning to feel it now.

The gurgling of the child heralded Remi's presence, and Rory's gaze first went to the goat. She wasn't showing any signs of being bothered by the extra audience, so he allowed himself to turn and watch his company instead.

It struck him as rather odd, seeing Remi with a baby. He remembered the cluttered workshop: swords and rakes and all manner of odds and ends, bits and bobs, strewn about in some form of chaotic (dis)order. He was not a man Rory would've associated with the role of being a father, but then again, it had not been his choice. "Hello Remi," he said, bright despite the fact that his face looked tired. Shadows threatened underneath his eyes. Fiat Lux had taken time away from work around here, which meant that he had had some long days catching up.

He leaned over slightly towards Aoife, the mythical baby he had mostly heard about but rarely seen. "How's the princess doing?" he asked warmly, evidently meaning Aoife as he was still leaning towards her, blue eyes on her starry ones. "And did you enjoy Fiat Lux?"
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#5
Knowing precisely what it was to have human fingers touch those unreachable places behind ears and in the scruff of one's fur, Remi happily obliged Vaya her scritches, cooing soft melodic sounds at her until she decided she'd been duly satisfied.

Wizened was not the sort of word Remi would normally reach for when describing Rory, and yet with the almost leathery-quality of his skin, the way his bones seemed to prop him up rather than the easy grace of movement he normally had, he did seem to be approaching on a word which would describe something dusty, rather than youthful. Though his scars appeared to be healing well enough, and his eyes were still that hard-to-look-at but also hard-to-look-away-from blue, Remi felt himself wanting to say something like, How are you Rory? And do not answer me as if we are stood here - answer me as if we were furrowed away in a mountain meadow and honesty would be easier.

Instead, Remi bobbed the finger of his that Aoife had been clutching as if she were waving to the farmer. "Some days I think that she eats more than I do." He said with a bemused sort of smile. Though with an obedient sort of adoration he nuzzled the back of her neck with his bristly unshaven cheek, smiling against her before looking out towards the goats milling about.

"Ahh...it was..." Chewing on his lip slightly, Remi regarded two kids playfully butting heads with one another as he tried to parse the difficult splay of emotions that he felt. Sam had forgotten him intentionally and the strange confrontation they'd had about it had left the alchemist feeling hollowed out like a gourd during a festival. And, like such gourds, that same knife had cut away a smile and alighted eyes and the face it showed to the world was one of forced euphoria. All of that on top of Ronin's death and the new responsibilities and endless hours that came with caring for a small and strange life, had left the alchemist in a tangle of emotions with fingers too tried to try for the knots anymore.

And Remi had also seen his friend with Jigano, which was another complicated sort of mess altogether.

"Strange, but pleasant? I suppose?" Remi replied with a bit of a shrug. "And you? I suppose it far less of a novelty for you, if it is a yearly occurrence?"

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
Change author:
Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#6
RORY
i told the stars about you
There was something in the way that Remi watched him that had him ducking his head slightly, as if he was ashamed about the exhaustion written in the lines of his face, or perhaps daunted by the clarity in the alchemist's eyes. Instead he watched the baby's soft, plump face, the stars in her eyes, the way she clung to Remi's waving finger. So helpless, truly, human children... He was too used to kids and the occasional foal, and they were practically born standing.

"That just means you need to eat more," he said with a gentle laugh, straightening up again when Remi nuzzled the baby. He hadn't been subjected to a lot of them. When most of his friends settled and started families, they sort of drifted away from Rory's social circle, limited as it was to begin with. Babies were cute enough, but he had no idea what to do with one, and from what he'd understood it was an exhausting job to raise one. Still, it felt like he spied on a private moment, somehow, and he looked back to his goat. It was still hard to reconcile the two Remis.

"Ahh...it was..." A small smile tugged on Rory's lips. It was, indeed, and the fingers that had hung in stillness between his knees had begun to twist and turn, poking at the inside of his knee, running the pad of his thumb over skin. A restless energy that needed outlet, a strange kind of ending that needed to be mourned.

As he waited for more he thought of Remi's face, the first time they had met. His bright, open expression, so eager to make a new friend even as Elyna held him back. He thought of those eyes, and how difficult they were to meet, because each time he did, he wanted to never look away. How breathless he had often felt, and how, in the dark, he sometimes had thought of all the things he wished he dared to do in his presence.

Like touch his hand, or his face, or kiss him. But Remi had somehow been too precious, a thing he did not dare to injure, so he had not done those things.

He thought of all the questions he had wanted to ask (still wanted to, honestly), about why he was the way he was, what he wanted, what he dreamed of. That sort of could-have-been sat like a dull throb in his heart, an ache of a life unexplored—drowned in a flood of white hair and blue fox eyes.

Things had changed, but he still found that he needed to grieve for what could've been.

"Pleasant is good," he responded with a small laugh, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as his warm gaze briefly flitted up to Remi's face, before falling to the goat once more. "And see, that's the magic and secret of Fiat Lux: you plunge yourself into it, and lose yourself. You try something new, do something new, embrace life. Perhaps," he said wryly, "that is how we stay sane."
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#7
Remi snorted at the suggestion he needed to eat more and merely shrugged. Growing up as he had with never enough to eat, the idea of any sort of decadence or over indulging of food was completely foreign. It was likely he did need to eat more; what muscles he had were lean, and when his skin was bare the roads of veins could be clearly seen draping across him like string. Ruffling his free hand through his curls, the alchemist merely gave a non-committal shrug and grin.

"I have had enough losing myself for a lifetime." The alchemist muttered dryly, glancing up. The light was haloed around the back of Rory's head making it hard to see him properly. For a moment he would be beautifully silhouetted, blazing blue eyes standing out against the flaring backdrop of the sun like two unyielding sentinels, and then he would move—would fidget—and would be cast in impregnable shadow, and Remi, sun-blinded, would cease to see much of anything. Blinking away the spots of white in his vision, the alchemist took a breath and let it linger on his tongue. "My memories were taken. Did...I do not remember if I had mentioned that." He began, shaking his head a confused half-shake as he blinked stupidly at the ground. Indeed what with all the gods seemingly taking what they wanted of his mind, Remi's memory had grown worse and worse.

Hazarding what was meant to simply be a quick glance up, Remi was suddenly and brightly made to realize one fact he'd never really thought about before: he hadn't forgotten Rory. He remembered all of Rory, and that was perhaps more destabilizing than even the blue of his friend's eyes were. With Ronin gone Remi had almost no friends with whom his memory loss had not effected things in some way. But Rory. He remembered all of Rory, and for some reason that seemed so important.

It seemed so..

do something new, embrace life—

..and he imagined Rory not in hushed hallways of darkness and stolen touches and breathless kisses, but in sunlit pastures pouring over the callouses of his hands continuing their game of naming shapes in the clouds. There was a world in those blue eyes where the memories were perfectly in sync, and just in that moment for Remi, that meant so much more than mere words could describe.

And it hurt.

"Sorry, ahh..is there—" Pulling his gaze away from Rory to a trough likely meant for the livestock, Remi flashed his friend a quick and apologetic smile before bee-lining towards it. Placing Aoife down in the grass where she happily began to tug at the sprouts, Remi cupped his hands and splashed the water on his face. Given a meager life on the road, the alchemist was unbothered by the algae lining the sides or the way the water was clouded by remnants of hay and the multiple muzzles that drank from the trough. The water was a shock to his senses, and though hazy images of a wary Rory that first day still clung like after-images behind his eyes, the strange shakiness in his gut subsided somewhat. Placing his hands on either side of the wood, the water dripping down from his nose and eyelashes, eventually Remi stood.

Running a hand through now-damp curls, the front of his shirt now v'd with water, he tried to flash Rory an apologetic grin, but it came out lopsided and not quite as sincere as he had aimed for. "Sorry." He mumbled. "Hot." This he said after having only just met Rory's gaze, which made his cheeks flush brilliantly with colour. "Ah, heat." Remi corrected quickly.

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
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Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#8
RORY
i told the stars about you
In hindsight: perhaps not a wise phrasing, or a wise sentiment at all, given the present company. When the dry mutter reached his ears, he felt something twinge in his heart.

The first pricking of guilt and regret.

Rory couldn't even begin to fathom what it was like to have memories taken, so completely. How did you even know that something was missing? How long did you go, not remembering someone (or something), until some external circumstance made it painfully obvious that it had been taken? Such a violation—just imagining it made something coil in his gut as terror shadowed his heartbeat.

"You did," he said after a heartbeat, something sad snaking around the words. His eyes were still on the goat. "I'm sorry, I should've put it some other way..." It wasn't necessary losing yourself so much as letting go: allowing yourself to smile and laugh and forget about the world's hardships for a while. Giving yourself a few days off from planting and working, to twirl someone around in dance in the spring sunlight, so precious after days and days of darkness.

He glanced up, into that open, easy, handsome face, into those pale yet vivid eyes—and Remi drifted away like a cloud in the breeze, offering a half-formed apology and a smile that only had Rory's eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown. Whatever strange turn their conversation had just taken had left Rory behind in the dirt, not so much bucked off as merely left behind.

Then Remi was placing the child down in the grass, and splashed water from the nearby trough into his face. Rory's frown deepened, concern clouding his eyes, but he stayed where he was; his hands twisted and turned, and beneath him, Ella had raised her head and gave an uncertain whine. She wasn't sure what to do with this child suddenly existing in her world.

Whatever it was that had just happened had left a mark on Remi, and not just in the form of water darkening the front of his shirt. It was like a shadow, or perhaps a weight: water, diluting the brightness and the colors. Rory found his lower lip between his teeth, blue eyes briefly meeting washed-out green. He barely even noticed how the alchemist tripped over his words.

A question formed upon his tongue, but which version of the sentiment to voice? The one that gave him an out, or the one that put him against the wall?

He thought again about that hand, outstretched. Of the lion thawing, supernatural frost coating his tan hide. The sketches. Rory had kept his distance because of how dangerous Remi had been to his principles, but they had all gone out the window anyway; he had broken every single one of his damned rules, and it had put him in a position where he felt inadequate, uncertain of how to comfort his friend.

He felt like a traitor and a coward, but he chose the phrasing that gave Remi an out.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the frown still tugging his eyebrows down.
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#9
The world seemed to whine in his ears, the landscape of Rory's face and the horizon line behind him shifting unhelpfully as Remi tried to steady his gaze. Running his thumb and middle finger across his eyes, the alchemist pushed for a moment as if the pressure might stop whatever throbbing pit of feeling was jostling just outside of mental reach. The only problem was that Remi didn't know if he should reach for it, or run.

Are you alright?

Letting his hand fall and catching Aoife out of the corner of slowly opening lashes, Remi wanted to shake his head. Do I look alright? He wanted to ask, and not in a snippy rhetorical way, but with all the honesty he could muster. Do I look alright to you, Rory? Like the man you once met? Can you see the holes in me that I can so clearly feel? Does the wind blow right through me? I feel so thin that I think it might. Nothing feels real anymore.

But giving someone an out normally meant you were looking for one as well. Besides, the ghost of whatever had once lingered wasn't enough to obligate Rory to care. That Remi hadn't forgotten the farmer didn't mean it was now a crucible for the blonde to endure. And so, clearing his throat and trying to stand straight and steady, Remi that sad and boyish smile that Jigano so loved to fault him for, and nodded.

"Just the heat." He said, the flush in his cheeks suggesting that this might well be true. "I did not mean to intrude. But with Vai close to delivering her own baby, I thought we could come for the goat's milk ourselves."

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
Change author:
Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#10
RORY
i told the stars about you
No, Remi's body seemed to say, fingers rubbing eyes that might just as well have got some annoying particle in them from the water trough, and then his hand fell anyway. His wet face glistened in the sunlight. His bright eyes opened.

And yet the answer lingered unspoken. Rory's fingers twisted and twisted and twisted, a shout of concern in his silent language. Nothing of what had just transpired made sense, something about it just so off that his neurons were firing with worry and anxiety cramped in his gut.

Just the heat Remi finally said, and had Rory not cared, he would've relaxed, then; his eyes would've become bright and he would've said ah in understanding, and happily moved on to safer, less personal topics.

But Rory cared and it wasn't that warm anyway and he hadn't explicitly said yes, and Rory rolled the words in his mouth. They tasted of regret. Perhaps he should have assumed that he was allowed to care—to ask directly—to keep reaching back for that hand he had shied away from the first day they had met. He was unconvinced by the smile, trampled beneath Remi's change of subject, his face a complicated thing as he once more glanced at the goat. She ought to get started soon.

"You are never an intruder," he finally said, slow and thoughtful, clamping his knees around his restless hands to keep them from fidgeting so. "And of course. I'm just glad to see you. I..." I don't believe you? It seemed cruel, almost, but he thought of the man sketching by the barrier, by the Spire, and how he seemed decades older now.

"Are you sure, though? That you're alright?" Well fuck, the straightest way over the fence was to jump across it. His voice was low and hesitant, but the concern in his eyes sincere; he had given Remi an out, and Remi had taken it, but why? Would he take this one too?

What was it that had changed between them? Was it Rory? Was it he who was so afraid of handling Remi and breaking him further that he treated him like fragile glass?
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
Change author:
Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#11
Not an intruder?

Oh but he was. He so very much was. Remi had heard what Rory had said about them all, the stand he had taken in front of the Spire. Unlike some of the other Outlanders though, Remi agreed completely. His love for Ronin and the grief he felt at having lost his friend had not coloured his memories that completely that he'd forgotten how it had all come about. They had charged in asking only enough questions to know where to point their methods of destruction and ownership.

Never an intruder? Pale eyes peered up at Rory, haloed so blindly (in more than one way) by the sun. Remi might have helped one barrier to fall, but others still remained. Others which wouldn't be toppled by force, or perhaps by any means that the alchemist knew. Rory's hands had ceased their fidgeting now, but only because they were forced to be still, and for a long moment that simple action of Rory closing his knees captivated Remi's attention. It felt reminiscent of something, something to do with hay and clouds and not for the first time Remi pictured taking Rory's hand in his and brushing his thumb across his palm, a small smile on his lips as he said, ahh, I thought so, finally feeling the calluses he knew would be there.

"No." Remi said in a gentle and faraway voice, looking away from the dusty hands between clenched knees and instead gazing out at the goats. Droplets of water glistened faintly on his eyelashes as he gazed out across the landscape seeing nothing, but feeling everything. "No I am not. But who is?" He added after a moment, looking up at Rory for just a moment, for that was about all he could take before his cheeks flushed a dusty salmon-pink and he had to look away with a soft but sad smile on his lips.

I forgot what it was like, to think I found you finally
What if you were the one for me? I hope you weren't the one for me
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.


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