that. was. rude

RONIN

the huntsman

when the city goes silent

Yes, fine, okay. Perhaps no small part of Ronin does want to be caught by his husband, but that doesn't mean he's going to make it easy for him. Because as thrilling as it is to be pursued by someone with the Bastion's power and magnitude, it's a rush all the same just to be able to run, to feel his muscles scream and burn with it as he pushes himself faster through the trees. Eventually, of course, even the Wildwood has to thin out in places, and Ronin springs over a fallen tree, hooves gracefully tucked, and prances into a sun dappled meadow.

Trotting to a stop and tossing his head, one ear twitches at the sound of a babbling stream nearby, the Knight breathing hard and pacing a slow perimeter around the clearing as if to mark it for any signs of danger. (AKA, Remi). When he finds none, he - of course - still doesn't truly believe it. But he does give himself permission for a brief drink, slinking through the shrubs to the stream and bending his head to lap at the cool, crystalline waters.

the ringing in my ears gets violent

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

the lullaby

I had a dream about a burning house
You were stuck inside, I couldn't get you out

Remi doesn’t burst into the meadow like something reckless and mythic, though the temptation is there—golden light, panting prey, all of it far too poetic to resist. Instead, he circles.

The pixiu shape pours out of him just beyond the tree line, rippling from muscle to fur like the Greatwood itself is helping him shrug into something old and powerful. Something Ronin has always known by the weight of its paws and the silence of its hunt. There’s no sound save the hush of grass parting, the low hum of his presence seeping through the bond like sunlight warming the back of a neck.

Thirsty? The voice is low and amused, curling lazily into Ronin’s thoughts. Hope you’re hydrated enough to run again.

And then he moves. Not like a creature chasing something to kill, but like a man after his husband—sure-footed and silent, eyes fixed with a predator’s focus, and all the warmth and devotion of a heartbeat shared across a bond neither of them have ever managed to untangle.

I lay beside you and pulled you close
And the two of us went up in smoke

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

RONIN

the huntsman

when the city goes silent

Ronin's instincts have him freezing mid-drink at the mere whisper of something not right between the tall grasses and ancient oaks, and that's before his husband's voice ever purrs into his mind. You're so attractive when you're creepily stalking me through the woods, he trills back, lifting his head, ears twitching and swivelling towards anything suspicious. 

And he can feel it when Remi moves, like the heavy pads of his paws land in time with each beat of his heart, Ronin turning automatically towards where he knows the Bastion will emerge.

He doesn't run, now. That would imply that there's something he needs to run from. Instead, padding up the bank and towards the large trunk of a tree, Ronin shifts back into himself and settles, waiting for Remi to arrive. Did we ever say what we'd get if we won this game? Or lost, for that matter? he wonders matter-of-factly.

the ringing in my ears gets violent

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

The pixui doesn’t pounce, not when Ronin chooses to make himself so very easy to catch. Instead he prowls just to the edge of the clearing, where the shadows stretch long and golden between the trees, and watches his husband shift back with green eyes that devour every inch of the Knight.

The moment Ronin sits, Remi finally steps forward—emerging like dusk from the forest’s edge, all silent grace and leonine calm. But as he nears, his shift melts away mid-stride, sun-gilded fur giving way to skin and curls and a smile that’s as warm as it is slow. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just closes the space between them until he’s standing in front of Ronin in the grass, heart still thudding from the chase.

"I think," he murmurs, dropping to his knees before reaching to brush a hand along Ronin’s jaw, "that the winner gets whatever they want." Then, with a tilt of his head and a flash of teeth that’s not quite tame: "And the loser gets exactly what they deserve." The only real question now was who had actually won between them.

the baffled king composing hallelujah

Ronin tries and fails not to glance up at his husband as he spots the pixui emerge from the foliage, sleek and golden and gorgeously dangerous in all the ways that still causes the Knight's heart to skip a beat when he remembers the soul that burns beneath the shift. His blue eyes are made all the darker by the shadow of branch and leaf, and he tips his head back ever so slightly to peer up at Remi when, at last, they face each other as themselves; nothing more, nothing less.

"Well," Ronin says softly, devouring every movement the Bastion makes, his knees falling apart as if to welcome the other man between them, "given that you were it, and I am here, and you," he pauses to lean into the warm and calloused fingers that caress his jawline, "have caught me, I would say that makes you the winner of this particular chase." Grinning, he reaches up to press his hand against the back of Remi's palm, his head turning so he might kiss the lines of fate that criss-cross through it.

"So tell me," he implores, voice muffled by his kisses, "what is it you want, and what is it I deserve?"

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

For a moment, Remi just watches the Knight. Watches the way Ronin opens for him without hesitation—knees parting, jaw tilting, eyes dark with heat and trust both—and it stirs something in the Bastion that runs far deeper than desire. It’s the ache of memory and muscle, of love that’s been forged in fire and worn smooth with years (nearly 10 of them, now). Of a soul that’s still endlessly, ferociously his.

"You always want answers," Remi murmurs, voice low and thick with fondness. His thumb grazes Ronin’s lower lip, the pad of it brushing softly against the warmth of his mouth. "Even when I’m trying to be dramatic and mysterious."

Edging himself closer until he's kneeling firmly between his husband's thighs, Remi allows his hand to be stolen away, and as Ronin presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, to the veins that pulse steady and sure just beneath the skin, Remi’s breath catches, the simple tenderness of it fraying something inside him. "I love when you do that," he says quietly, not bothering to hide the tremble of want in his voice.

"As for what I want," he says, "is this. You, like this. After a chase, with your heartbeat on my hand and your cheeks flushed like that." Leaning forward, the Bastion takes a breath. "And what you deserve..." His lips curve with the shadow of a smirk, "is to know exactly how much I still want you. Every version of you. Even the one who cheats at his own game and threatens innocent will o' wisps." And then he leans in fully, catching Ronin’s mouth in a kiss that’s unhurried but hungry, the kind that speaks of claiming and coming home all at once.

the baffled king composing hallelujah

"We've had enough mystery and drama to last ten lifetimes," Ronin protests quietly, a smile kicking up the corner of his mouth even as Remi's fingers brush against his lower lip, "so of course I want answers." He shifts against the tree trunk as the other man places himself firmly between his thighs, the Knight's fingers strumming silent music against the back of Remi's hand.

"I know," he whispers of the mark of affection that has borne the weight of the years and still shines through, and he turns his head again to press kiss after kiss to the rivers of blood that run beneath the delicate skin of his husband's wrist. "Why do you think I do it so much?" A final kiss - this one to Remi's fingertips - and he draws back at last, squeezing his hand.

Feeling his cheeks heat up for a different reason entirely to merely running through the woods, Ronin listens to the Bastion's explanation with blue eyes gone molten with love and desire both. By the time Remi leans in for his kiss, the Knight is offering it all too willingly, hooking a leg around his husband's hips and spending a long few seconds to savour the taste of the words on his tongue. 

"You cheated first," he quips before he can help himself, the words melting into soft laughter. "How could I ever forget it, Remi? I belong as much to you now as I did that night in the Hollowed Grounds, however I might look and whatever the world might call me. For you, I'm only ever one thing. Yours."

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

Remi chuckles, the sound boyish and rueful, his curls falling forward as he ducks his head slightly. "Oh, well my mistake, then," he concedes, voice warm and low with amusement, though the look he casts Ronin is anything but repentant.

But then the Knight's mouth is on his wrist again, reverent and familiar, and though Remi’s skin has been kissed a thousand times over by this man, it still draws a flush to his cheeks, bright and unabashed. "I know you know," he murmurs, unable to keep the note of pleasure from his voice, "but I like saying it anyway."

And when Ronin hooks a leg around his waist, invitation and claim in one, Remi doesn’t hesitate. He pitches forward with a quiet laugh, bracing a hand on the tree trunk behind his husband’s head, the other slipping instinctively to cradle Ronin’s jaw. His mouth finds Ronin’s again—hungry and honey-slow—and his tongue curls soft against his husband’s, whispering sweet nothings that never need to be spoken aloud to be understood.

As for cheating—"Yes, well," Remi breathes against Roni's lips, grinning. "We both knew I’d cheat" He tilts his head to nuzzle affectionately along Ronin’s jaw, stubble rasping gently against stubble. "But you are supposed to be the good one, husband."

There’s a steady pull inside him that’s never lessened, never frayed—not with time, not with war, not with the weight of the world pressing in on them from every side. It’s a current that has flowed for ten years, deep and sure, but somehow it feels older than that. Wiser. Timeless. A part of him so intrinsic that to imagine himself without it feels like imagining a world without light. "It’s you, for me," Remi whispers. And then he leans in once more, brushing his nose against Ronin’s before capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s less about fire and more about gravity—inevitable, infinite, and whole.

the baffled king composing hallelujah

"Good," Ronin whispers, his tone honey sweet but softly wicked, "because truth be told, I never get tired of hearing you say it." Peering up at Remi and wanting nothing more than to reach for the flush of heat along the bridge of his nose as if he might be able to warm himself against it forever, the Knight is unfortunately distracted, though he can't find it in himself to complain. Instead, with a soft moan that rumbles against Remi's mouth and with greedy fingers plunging into soft and unruly curls, he succumbs to the punishment of kissing the man he loves for as long as he'll let him.

Panting softly as they part at last and feeling featherlight and undone such that he can only laugh along with Remi, Ronin offers him a gentle shrug. "It's almost the end of Longheat," he points out, "so you can look forward to me being anything but good quite soon, if past years are anything to go by." And gods help their mailman.

With amusement and love still fizzing through the tether of Remi's magic, Ronin feels the swell of his husband's love - relentless as the tide and endless as the horizon - like a wave about to take him out at the knees, but he does anything but fight it. "And it's you, for me," he manages to reply before his mouth is claimed a second time, and the world feels good and right in a way it really shouldn't under the circumstances. But here they are.

He parts, at last, from the other man by leaving a dozen tiny kisses scattered against Remi's cheek and jaw and neck, Ronin letting out a long, soul-deep sigh and relaxing into the cradle of his husband's shoulder. "I'll love you forever, you know," he tells him, as if it's as something as simple and knowable as the sunrise.

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

As they part, Remi is breathless in a way that has nothing to do with the chase and everything to do with the way Ronin looks at him. His smile breaks open slow and wide, and he chuckles softly, nose brushing against the Knight’s cheek before he eases back just far enough to speak. "I was meaning to ask," he murmurs, voice still warm and wrecked with affection, "if you might mind us having a little anniversary party." He quirks a brow, playful as he tips his head. "And if you do agree...do you think you’ll be able to be polite? Or should I ask Isla to be on call, just in case our guests don’t dodge fast enough when you get stabby with your antlers?"

Grinning, Remi shifts onto one hip and lets himself lean into Ronin’s thigh, no longer perched so much as draped with lazy satisfaction. One arm hooks loosely around the Knight’s calf as his curls fall across his brow, and he hums—a soft, low sound, like the kind you make when everything in the world is aligned just right.

It had never been ’til death do us part between them. Not when Mort himself would greet them with open arms and call it a reunion instead of an ending. Their love was stronger than vows and more enduring than contracts. And just because they had years left—gods willing, decades—it didn’t make Remi careless with a single second. He would hold each moment like a shell against his ear, listening for the echo of forever in every heartbeat.

"I know you will," he says softly, answering Ronin’s vow like it’s a truth so self-evident it hardly needs saying. But he’d never take it for granted. "And I’ll love you just the same. No matter the shape you take, or what the world calls you. You’ll always be mine." Pausing, he glances at the top of his husband's head and wrinkles his nose adoringly. "Or how gray your hair goes."

the baffled king composing hallelujah

Brows raising at the question Remi's apparently been meaning to ask him, Ronin huffs out a soft laugh at the idea of something as normal as an anniversary party. "Ten years," he whispers, sneaking a kiss to the other man's cheek. "That certainly feels like it's worth celebrating, doesn't it?" Reaching for one of the Bastion's hands, Ronin presses it against his heart where the dull thud of his pulse briefly kicks up simply at having his husband's hands on him. "Of course I wouldn't mind. And I solemnly swear to be as polite as I can," he vows. "Though I may find it difficult to leave your side all night." No change there, though.

Shifting to let Remi get as decadently comfortable as he deserves to be, Ronin releases his husband's hand so he can trail his fingers softly through his curls and down his back, as if inviting a shiver of feathers to appear. "Enough," he groans affectionately as their forevers and sweet nothings become inevitably about his (stress-related, he'll have you know) greying hair. "You know, when we finally do step into Mort's halls together, I think I'll choose to be the very shape I was when we got married the first time."

i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time

Remi grins, his expression all fond mischief as his fingers curl loosely into the fabric of Ronin’s shirt, the dull thud beneath his palm echoing both through skin, his wedding ring, and through bond. He doesn’t say anything about it—doesn’t need to. The way his lashes lower, the way his smile turns almost reverent for a breath, says everything.

"If you do feel like going a bit wild," he whispers, sly and soft at once, "you know I won’t be the least bit upset about it." His voice dips into something suggestive and teasing.

True to expectation, feathers unfurl like instinct in response to Ronin’s touch: soft, downy at the nape of his neck, longer and white as they trail down his spine. Remi doesn’t bother to hide the shiver that follows. When the Knight mumbles enough, Remi just laughs, brushing the tip of his nose against Ronin’s in an affectionate little bump.

Then he draws back slightly, brows raised, squinting as if in deep concentration. "Mmm," he hums with mock seriousness. "No one’ll recognize you without all the scars. I might even have to reintroduce myself." His grin tugs crooked, playful, before softening into something smaller, more honest. "I think I liked my body best back when I was just an alchemist. When I was only a hawk and a lion." He tilts his head, considering, eyes flicking to Ronin with a sudden spark. "Do you think the limits of magic bend in Mort’s halls?" he wonders aloud. "Because I really did like being able to dissolve your clothes into flower petals."

As if to prove the point, he reaches out and touches the front of Ronin’s shirt. Nothing happens, of course. The shirt remains maddeningly intact. Remi sighs with the long-suffering drama of a man robbed of his most treasured party trick. "Siiigh," he laments, shaking his head.

the baffled king composing hallelujah

"Oh, I know you won't be," Ronin agrees, his voice threaded with laughter. "I doubt our guests will feel quite so forgiving, though. I try to get through Leafchange with as few apology letters to write as possible." It's also why their mailman and his family never seem to go without, courtesy of the Knight and his embarrassment each Deepfrost. 

Settling against the tree trunk and allowing himself a private little smile to see the trail of feathers fluff through Remi's hair and down his back, Ronin carefully teases his fingers through the downy softness at his nape. "If you were to reintroduce yourself, I'd end up falling over my words and having to apologise to you, because I already had a husband," he says through a chuckle, nosing his husband back affectionately and drawing back enough to catch the way his expression lilts towards something more thoughtful.

"Back when you were an alchemist," he echoes, eyes growing warm with the memory. "You were never only anything," he chides affectionately. "Not to me. And I would think you can be and do whatever you like once you're dead. If not, I'll have to report to Mort's office and ask why my shirts can't fall apart into flowers."

Following the path of Remi's fingers and smirking to see absolutely nothing happen, Ronin sighs as well, before nodding towards the other man. "Close your eyes," he says softly, "and I'll do a magic trick."

Providing the Bastion complies, Ronin of course will wriggle out of his shirt, ball it up and toss it to one side, before reaching for a few daisies sprouting nearby. "Okay, open," he announces, aiming to toss daisy petals into the air the moment his husband's gaze lands back on him. "Ta daaaa!"

~FIN