FINN
Even without his glasses, Finn can see so much of Remi in the silence that stretches between them. He can see the line he’s stepped across, the sudden danger before him rather than in the water all around, the creeping unease that slithers its way up the length of his spine. He doesn’t move as the Alchemist steps forward, eyes as cold as the murky sea, feeling his breath catch at the other man’s comparatively calm words.
”I think I’ll be heading back to the shore now,” he says in a voice that does its best to remain steady. It’s not a disagreement, which may as well be an acknowledgement in the moment. ”For what it’s worth, I don’t think you were unkind until this moment. And I don’t think I was lying, either.” Times changed, like the wind and the pull of the tides.
”I think I’ll be heading back to the shore now,” he says in a voice that does its best to remain steady. It’s not a disagreement, which may as well be an acknowledgement in the moment. ”For what it’s worth, I don’t think you were unkind until this moment. And I don’t think I was lying, either.” Times changed, like the wind and the pull of the tides.
