Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"More my way of calling myself fucked," Ronin mumbles. He doesn't have the strength for even a whisper of a smile, but it's very humourous if Remi listens close. Like really, really close. Unable to keep his eyes open any longer (gods, they suddenly feel so heavy), the Hunter snorts at the wendigo's remark, and his good shoulder rises and falls a fraction. "You're the one who said you might not be in control," he points out.
Before they do, though, forces him to peel his eyes back open, and it's very blearily that he manages to focus on the siren's vocal cords. "Thanks," he mutters. His fingers twitch a bit before he manages to lift his arm, and he just about catches hold of the prize before it falls again.
It's a few painful minutes before there's any sign of movement whatsoever, by which time Ronin has faded into some weird half-consciousness where he feels too hot but at least nothing hurts any more. And then there are torches and crackling walkie talkies, a stretcher and medics and sedation and he can't even see Remi any more.
Before they do, though, forces him to peel his eyes back open, and it's very blearily that he manages to focus on the siren's vocal cords. "Thanks," he mutters. His fingers twitch a bit before he manages to lift his arm, and he just about catches hold of the prize before it falls again.
It's a few painful minutes before there's any sign of movement whatsoever, by which time Ronin has faded into some weird half-consciousness where he feels too hot but at least nothing hurts any more. And then there are torches and crackling walkie talkies, a stretcher and medics and sedation and he can't even see Remi any more.
sink into the wasteland underneath
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream
