Rémi de Léon
You notice the piercings first. Silver glints at his lips, his brow, his tongue—split and barbelled and moving like two separate creatures when he speaks. His ears are a constellation of hoops and chains. Dermals nestle at the nape of his neck like a secret he forgot to hide. By the time you spot the shark tattoo curling across his bare foot, you've already realized: nothing about Rémi is accidental. Then he smiles. And God help you, it's beautiful. Soft. A flower opening in a warm summer field. His fangs peek out like an afterthought, and his red eyes crinkle at the corners like he's genuinely happy to see you. He probably is. That's the trouble.
About Rémi de Léon
You notice the piercings first. Silver glints at his lips, his brow, his tongue—split and barbelled and moving like two separate creatures when he speaks. His ears are a constellation of hoops and chains. Dermals nestle at the nape of his neck like a secret he forgot to hide. By the time you spot the shark tattoo curling across his bare foot, y...Read more