brighter

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

As the door sighs open, Remi’s breath catches in his throat. Omphalos is nothing like he expected. No writhing horrors, no humming machinery, no pulsing pods or half-formed nightmares; just a chamber so quiet and still that even his heartbeat feels too loud for it. The air is ancient, stale in the way mausoleums are stale, steeped in a kind of reverence that prickles along his skin even if it is all a bit anticlimactic.

He steps inside with a kind of instinctive awe, shoulders hunching ever so slightly as if the ceiling might lower itself in reprimand for any sudden sound. The cracked stone at the centre draws his eye immediately like a wound in the floor, edges fractured outward from where something heavy had been torn free. Remi glances back at Ronin, widening his eyes in a theatrically hushed don’t disturb the dead expression, as if they’re sneaking into a forbidden library rather than the hollow heart of a fallen alien race. When he speaks, it’s a whisper despite himself, the sound barely a breath. "I am sure this was meant to be...very impressive." Or maybe they weren't ever supposed to live long enough to see it.

He drifts closer to the centre, but stops short of the crack, something cautious tugging at his spine. His fingers flex as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch the stone. "What do you think used to be here?" he murmurs, turning slightly toward Ronin.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory

Ronin walks side by side with Remi as they step into Omphalos, but where the Bastion inches forward to explore the strange and secret little space, the Knight feels himself anchoring by the doorway. It's as though whatever had been here left a mark on the place that no amount of cleansing or exploring will scrub away; something infinite and impossible to understand, but clearly sacred to the Family and the void.

"Weren't there rumours that it was a god down here?" He hates that he feels the need to whisper, but his voice remains low and careful nevertheless, Ronin forcing his feet forward so he can draw up beside his husband again. "Not that I'm keen to call anything that fell from space a god," he adds, reaching out automatically to catch Remi around the waist and draw him back against him, away from the stone that tries to tempt him to brush his fingers against it.

"I feel like whatever was down here was never meant to be down here for long, once it woke up," he says.

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi glances back over his shoulder toward where Ronin still lingers near the doorway, squinting faintly as he tries to pull from memory a rumour he might have heard once; something about a group who dreamt of this place? His gaze drifts up toward the ceiling, as if the answer might be carved there in the stone. "I think that sounds right?" he murmurs, voice soft and uncertain, "But if anyone told me for certain, clearly I have forgotten." His shoulders lift in a small, helpless shrug.

Then Ronin’s arm slides around his waist, tugging him back from the cracked stone, and Remi huffs a quiet laugh, letting himself be reeled in like he’s on a line. His arms wind easily around Ronin’s neck, damp curls brushing the Knight’s cheek as he leans in, only to take two slow, exaggerated steps backward toward the fractured centre of the room, like he’s daring Ronin to either stop him or join him.

He hums his agreement to the Knight's assessment—yes, whatever was here was never meant to stay, yes, it feels like waking breath still lingers in the air—but his voice turns mischievous as he tilts his head, pressing closer until their noses nearly brush. "Don’t you want to make out just a little bit on the weird alien god-rock?" he whispers, grin broadening. "Just because we can?"

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory

"Either way, it's not down here now." Which is reassuring; proof that the Family had kept their end of the bargain and had left and took whatever it was with them. Ronin makes a mental note to underline that part of his report a few times before he delivers it to Flora, and his eyes remain pinned on the scars in the ground even as Remi's arms slide around his neck; that very same gaze sharpens considerably as his husband takes a couple of cartoonishly large steps closer.

He goes with him, naturally, if only to keep him from moving away entirely, though his nose wrinkles in distaste as the Bastion plants them more or less at the very edge of the crater. "I would make out with you anywhere," he informs him, voice soft and playful and entirely at odds with his expression. "Though this is close to the bottom of my wishlist."

Nevertheless, as Ronin's expression softens and he turns his head back towards Remi, it's no coincidence that his lips catch the other man's in a kiss that feels determined to wipe away the memory of the original purpose of this place. Instead it can be the Creepy Taliesin Makeout Spot.

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi meets Ronin’s theatrics with an expression of long-suffering patience, eyebrows lifted in a way that makes it abundantly clear he is enduring Ronin’s complaints, not entertaining them. The moment those lips find his, though, all that amused exasperation melts into something far warmer and far deeper.

One of his hands slides up into Ronin’s dark, damp hair, fingers curling with slow, deliberate intent, while the other loosens from around his neck only to anchor harder at the small of Ronin’s back, pulling their bodies flush. The cracked stone, the ruined crater, the entire oppressive weight of the chamber, all of it recedes beneath the heat of Ronin’s mouth.

Remi meets the kiss with a kind of quiet ferocity, a hum vibrating low in his chest as he tilts his head to capture more of Ronin. If the Family carved this place as something sacred, something terrible, then Remi is more than happy to overwrite it with something entirely theirs, as one last little fuck you for all the Family made them endure.

His fingers tighten in Ronin’s hair, tugging just enough to pull at the Knight's head, only to lean forward instantly and reclaim the scant centimetre the pull might have created.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory

Ronin manages to sip in a hasty breath of air in that second of space between them, before he's entirely Remi's once again. He melts into all the places they touch, the tension fleeing his body so he can better anchor himself to the Bastion, lips and tongue rewriting the history of the place they stand in until they've made something completely new. A soft moan escapes his throat, a close cousin to impatience that flirts along the borders of greed, his hands dropping to Remi's hips to draw him more firmly against him.

"We are not having sex on the weird alien rock," he says quietly, though it's not clear whether he's talking to the other man or convincing himself about it. "But fine, you're right - making out here was definitely the right idea." The words are practically mumbled into Remi's mouth, and Ronin steals his response with another kiss, this one fiery and suggestive of all the things he'd just said they weren't going to do.

"We can leave this out of the report though," he adds through a quiet laugh.

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Remi lets out a groan so boyish and dramatic that it practically echoes with equal parts disappointment and temptation. He very nearly says but it’s my birthday, and the words hover so close to the tip of his tongue that Ronin can probably feel the shape of them forming through the bond. But he swallows them back, not entirely convinced he wants to have sex on an alien god-rock...not when the possibilities waiting back home are so much more appealing. Chasing Ronin across the ocean as a kraken. Dragging him into bed, or onto the beach, or anywhere they don’t risk eldritch horrors somehow seeping into their skin.

Still, as Ronin presses in with that fiery, reckless hunger, Remi meets him with full force. His hand slips from Ronin’s lower back down to his ass, fingers grasping a generous handful as he drags their hips tight together. The kiss he returns is slow-burning and claiming, every part of him leaning into the promise beneath Ronin’s refusal. "Mmm," he hums against the Knight's mouth, a sound as indulgent as it is encouraging. He breaks away only enough to whisper, lips still grazing his husband's, "I’m pretty sure Flora and Kai snuck off to have sex during dinner anyway..." As if that somehow justified Ronin rubbing their sex life in her face.

Then his brows lift as a thought catches up to him, and he gives a low, rueful laugh. "On second thought," he mumbles, brushing his nose against Ronin’s, "mentioning that would probably just encourage her to come check this place out herself."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory

"Don't," Ronin mumbles against Remi's lips, the chastisement ruined by his smile, his breath hitching as the Bastion pins them even closer with an unceremonious grab of his ass. Not that you'll catch him complaining; if anything, the laughter that huffs from his chest is all boyish amusement, as if to entertain the idea of claiming Omphalos as their own in the most physcally blatant way possible.

Thankfully, perhaps, the reminder of Flora and Kai sneaking away to have sex during the dinner they'd recently attended is enough to start cooling the fire in his blood, Ronin pulling a face and scattering a few further kisses over Remi's cheeks before he draws back, pinning him with an expression as dry as it is unimpressed. "Only we are allowed to do that," he grumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through the Bastion's damp hair.

"The last thing I want is her wandering around down here, let alone having sex on an alien space rock," he says through a smirk. "Though I suppose at least we can confirm that it's not dangerous any more. Not in the void way, anyway." There's still a chance someone could get lost in the Crush or drown in the Breach, but they'd likely do that whether or not it was on Starfall.

RONIN

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

The soft, warning don’t barely makes it out of Ronin’s mouth before Remi feels heat bloom low and sharp in his belly. It’s that same instinctive rush he gets whenever Ronin’s luxere shift stirs something predatory and possessive in him, only now it’s Ronin’s voice, Ronin’s breath ghosting over his lips, that pulls the trigger. Whatever careful self-control he’d been maintaining a moment ago immediately becomes far more negotiable.

He draws in a slow breath, steadying himself only because Ronin is pulling back. Remi lets him, though it earns a faint, quiet sigh from deep in his chest. He lifts one hand from Ronin’s hair—reluctantly—and reaches to cover the Knight’s hand instead, fingers curling with familiar warmth. "Agreed," he murmurs of both sexcapades and subterranean adventures, voice low and still threaded with that simmering heat, even as his expression softens into something earnest.

He lets his thumb sweep across Ronin’s knuckles, grounding himself in the contact even as his gaze flicks around the empty chamber. "And yes," he says, nodding toward the cracked stone, the pulsing walls, the last vestiges of what the Family left behind. "If nothing else, we should make sure there’s nothing harmful left down here." His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. "And then,” he adds, voice dropping into a velvet-soft purr, "we can treat ourselves the way you promised."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory

The distance is as necessary as it is reluctant, Ronin unconsciously echoing his husband with a long and grounding sigh, even if his hand remains happily captured beneath Remi's. "Well, on the plus side," he murmurs, "I no longer feel so uncomfortable down here." All thanks to the Bastion and his wicked tongue, and Ronin will be sure to show his gratitude in all manner of ways once they're back beneath the open sky.

For now, though, Remi makes an annoyingly good point, and although he grumbles good-naturedly towards the rest of Omphalos, Ronin nods. "That's all the motivation I need," he says, drawing his hand back at last and capturing the other man's fingers to press a kiss to the back of his palm, before turning them towards the vast wounds in the earth made by the departure of this alien, would-be god.

He doubts they'll find anything of much interest - and that in itself is a satisfying middle finger to the Family and their legacy, but at least they can have fun searching. (And even more fun afterwards).

~FIN

RONIN