long shadows

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "I bet Sugar will patrol any tree you decide to set up in," Ronin murmurs to Oria, grinning as he peeks out of the window. "Not that you'll need her, though I bet you'd make quite the dragon rider if you wanted." Stepping away to let the ghostly little spriggan do her artwork, he busies himself in fixing Remi's collar and sleeves, smoothing out the shirt so it sits right and then stepping away that his husband might button it up. Tilting his head, he grins to the other man. "It was an accomplishment," he corrects. "Just because these days you can rip up trees with your bare hands, doesn't make it any less of a win back then. Without those baby steps, you might not be here, hm?" He winks, before gazing down at his own outfit. "Oh, I think maybe I could..." Drifting off that he might nibble his lower lip in consideration, it's with a small shiver that crimson and gold feathers blanket his shoulders; not enough for anything to catch fire, but more than enough that his clothing changes accordingly, bleeding into tight black leather and tiny, twinkling constellations. "How's this?" he asks.