[se] wild in the silence

maybe i'm a runaway train, maybe i'm a feather in a hurricane

"I'm not worried about you." Remi replied gruffly as if insulted the Spyglass should even think such a thing (or perhaps embarrassed or ashamed by it). "I'm an alchemist. I make things. When you left I threw the stone into the ocean instead of following you to where you live and demanding you take it. And why?" Remi studied the man before him, he who created such paradoxical feelings within the Alchemist. "Because I do not care."

But he did. And he hated Finn his regret, having lost the ability somewhere along the way.

Accepted. Hmm. "I think you'd make a good bird, should you ever choose to become an Attuned." Remi said casually. "A sparrow, or crow. Something clever and flighty and good with tools." Something unassuming and easily broken.

Rather than handing Finn a shovel, Remi tosses his hands as if there is something in them. There isn't—at least not right away. At the arc of whatever is being 'thrown', a thick webbing appears. Palm-fronds tightly woven together, to reinforce the berm. "These go against the mounds, secured with rocks and such to keep the sand from eroding away."

THE ALCHEMIST

maybe it's a long gray game, but maybe that's a good thing