cut our teeth and make our bones right here

Ronin

welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies

I'm dying, what kind of fucking question is that, is what Ronin would like to scream into Remi's head, except his thoughts are all curious static and strange, dancing shapes that seem to form out of the falling snow. When he does succeed in stringing a thought together, it's some weird mingling of don't care and vocal chords, because why be vague when you can also be massively specific at the same time?

Doesn't really matter, he supposes. Trying now to roll onto his knees, his left arm and shoulder a completely useless hunk of flesh that doesn't want to respond, Ronin totters and ends up hunched over in the shittiest child's pose any yoga instructor has ever seen. She dead yet, he wonders. Or am I?

sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!