Ronin
welcome to the playground, follow me
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
tell me your nightmares and fantasies
"Mm, this isn't a recording." And it isn't some soldier's girlfriend weeping about whatever has happened, either, but that hardly needs saying. His brows furrowing, Ronin softly shakes his head - if they're going to do this, they should do it as an actual team - and slowly begins to approach the dark square leading into the locker room. "A banshee wouldn't have been able to stay quiet with all that commotion going on, though..."
And it hits him just as they're about 10ft from the locker room entrance - faint, sweet perfume that smells like petrichor and sun-warmed skin, like laughter in springtime and vanilla soaked kisses. Of course a banshee wouldn't have been able to keep hold of herself this long. A shapeshifter could, though. The fae could.
"Remi," Ronin manages, and he's about to finish that sentence with you should go before the weeping warps, by degrees, into the soft sound of a woman's laughter.
"Fine. I suppose you win this round," she purrs, and the figure that exits through the darkness and into the stadium makes the likes of Isla Lockwood seem plain. With eyes greener than new leaves and hair a silken river of midnight, she's adorned in pale silks and shimmering amethysts, seeming simultaneously much taller than the two men, but also delicate and dainty.
And it hits him just as they're about 10ft from the locker room entrance - faint, sweet perfume that smells like petrichor and sun-warmed skin, like laughter in springtime and vanilla soaked kisses. Of course a banshee wouldn't have been able to keep hold of herself this long. A shapeshifter could, though. The fae could.
"Remi," Ronin manages, and he's about to finish that sentence with you should go before the weeping warps, by degrees, into the soft sound of a woman's laughter.
"Fine. I suppose you win this round," she purrs, and the figure that exits through the darkness and into the stadium makes the likes of Isla Lockwood seem plain. With eyes greener than new leaves and hair a silken river of midnight, she's adorned in pale silks and shimmering amethysts, seeming simultaneously much taller than the two men, but also delicate and dainty.
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
