[SE] keeping it lit

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

I got a report this morning that a fire had started out near the shoreline here, Ronin is explaining as he tucks in his wings to start descending down towards Metacarpal Island. With the wind howling in their ears and rushing past them it's easier to use the Attuned bond to carry the conversation, the Knight having partially shifted to make the journey.

And despite the smoke he can already scent on the air and the way he knows it will linger on their clothes long after they're done here, he can't deny that he's enjoying the feel of the brisk gale against his overheated skin. Longheat always comes for Torchline with a vengeance, but this year feels particularly vicious, and after they're done he might suggest they swim back to the mainland fully clothed to cool off some more.

I know, I know, he continues, amusement threading through his words, I take you to the best places. Ah - there it is. Below them the island appears in a haze of ivory and scarlet, and on the coastline he can already see the telltale lines of smoke from a fire that could well get out of control if they don't do something soon.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi’s response hums back along the bond with fond exasperation, a warm pulse of amusement that curls around Ronin’s words rather than cutting across them. Of course you do, he replies, the mental tone bright and teasing, affectionate enough that the eye-roll it carries feels more like a caress than a rebuke. He angles his wings to match Ronin’s descent, pale feathers catching the light as he glides, the heat of LongHeat pressed back by the sharp, salt-cool rush of air along his skin. I’m fairly sure you’re just very clever about saving yourself time and combining our dates with your patrols. Efficiency disguised as romance, tsk tsk.

As Metacarpal Island resolves beneath them in shades of bone white and smoke grey, Remi dips lower, the smell of smoke and salt tangling together, the flicker of flame reflected briefly in his eyes. He exhales, a quiet sound lost to the wind, and lifts a hand to rake through his curls as he studies the creeping haze along the shore. Do you think we might be able to borrow Sunjata for LongHeat? he wonders, already thinking ahead that the season would be stretching long and merciless before them at this rate.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

I'll pretend not to notice that assumption and just take it as a compliment that you called me clever, Ronin fires back, all affection and playful chastisement, and though they're necessarily distant to make room for wingspan, his grin catches on the morning light as something bright and boyish. Is now a good time to mention I also made a reservation for us to get brunch after this? I thought we could drink mimosas with breakfast and then nap away the worst of the heat.

Flaring out his wings to catch on the wind and slow his descent once they're close enough to the island to make out the worst of the fire, Ronin scoffs a sound that's lost to their flight and the creeping haze of smoke, tilting his head toward Remi with a smirk. I reckon we could bribe him here for a little while at least, he says. Sugar isn't far behind us so she'll be able to help out a little with this, but otherwise we'll be relying on old fashioned firefighting, I guess.

Ronin, by nature, is all celestial fire and divine light - not the greatest for putting out fires.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi’s reply comes with a snicker that brightens the bond with a boyish ripple of affection. Of course it was a compliment, he says lightly, as though there had never been another interpretation worth entertaining. When brunch is mentioned, his agreement is immediate and wholehearted, conveyed in a mental nod so emphatic it borders on theatrical. How dare you, he adds, mock-aghast and smiling into the wind, say nearly all of my favourite things in a single sentence.

As they drift lower, the heat rising to meet them in uneven waves, Remi hums thoughtfully. His gaze slides toward the horizon for a moment, distant and curious, before returning to the jagged smear of flame below. I wonder if it’s this bad in King’s End, he muses as his thoughts drift to Sunjata.

I’m not entirely sure what I can do, he admits honestly, eyes tracking the shoreline where the blaze gnaws hungrily at red growth and pale remains. After a moment, he adds, tentative but practical, I could try pulling water in from the sea—splash the edge of the island, at least, keep it from spreading too far. His gaze flicks toward Ronin, and though the wind steals any expression from the air between them, the comical wince he sends through the bond is unmistakable, equal parts self-aware and hopeful. Is that a terrible idea, do you think?

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

Oh, I dare, Ronin boasts, still grinning even if he has to turn his head to properly concentrate on their landing especially if Metacarpal is trying to burn itself to ashes this season. Not only do I dare, I intend to give you all of your favourite things as soon as we're finished here. How long could it take with both of us on the case, right? Never mind that they're both woefully unsuited to put out fires.

Following Remi's gaze fleetingly towards King's End in the east, Ronin winces and shakes his head. Hopefully all the mud and rain they had will protect them from the worst of it for a little while. Hopefully they're faring better than Torchline with it, anyway.

Circling the fire now more than trying to actively reach the blaze, Remi's admission is echoed by his husband, Ronin sending a pulse of sheepish agreement down through the bond. It's less terrible than leaving it to keep spreading, he says. If you do that, I can try to smother it from the beach with all the sand?

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi’s response flares bright and immediate through the bond, his brow lifting in exaggerated disbelief even as delight curls warmly beneath it. All of my favourite things? The incredulity is boyish and daring, threaded through with a flirtatious flush that makes the promise sound less like taunting and more like a personal challenge he fully intends to hold Ronin to.

With no better options presenting themselves and no time to indulge in overthinking, he answers Ronin’s plan with a simple, resolute nod, peeling away from him as smoothly as if they’d rehearsed it a hundred times before. The shift comes midair, abrupt and grotesque in its efficiency: wings folding away as massive limbs unfurl, bone and flesh reshaping in a heartbeat into something vast and unmistakably monstrous. Tentacles burst outward, thick and powerful, catching the air for a split second before gravity and intention pull him down toward the sea.

He hits the water already changing, the lower bulk of his new form sinking fast beneath the surface. By the time he's shifted, most of his body is submerged, leaving only great lengths of tentacle rising and falling above the waves. At first the splashing is clumsy, ineffective—white water and spray more dramatic than useful—but Remi persists, methodical even in this absurdity. Soon the sea begins to answer; with each sweeping motion he builds momentum, tentacles carving wide arcs that pull and push the water until the waves grow heavier, broader, rolling in deliberate succession toward the shore. Like a child discovering the power of a bathtub made infinite, he sends them surging landward, great walls of seawater racing to meet bone-white sands and creeping flame.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

All of them, Ronin confirms with a bounce of his eyebrows Remi likely won't see. You know, weather permitting. Much as I also love all my favourite things, some of them aren't as fun with heatstroke. Some Longheat days it's too much to even want to exist in the same bed, but he has high hopes for being able to stay cool once they've dealt with the fire.

And it's that task that returns front and centre as Remi parts ways with him, Ronin peeling away inland at the same time - partially so that he can get to the bulk of the sand, but also so he can divert his gaze from the massive shift taking place as his husband drops towards the waves.

For Ronin at least, he remains in his partial shift, hitting the ground running with his duplicate soon at his side. Together they manage to flank the flames that are already starting to hiss with the spray of foam and seawater, and by the time they're actively digging at the sand to cover the parts of the fire that are trying to spread, they're getting soaked.

Your idea is better! he calls into the Attuned bond with a laugh, and overhead Sugar's trill rings out as she arrives on their tails, icy breath already streaming down to help stifle the rest of the wildfire.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi’s grin blooms boyish and pleased. That hardly sounds very White Knight of you, he shoots back through the bond with exaggerated offence, the sulk he puts on entirely theatrical and worn only for Ronin’s benefit. It lasts barely a heartbeat before soft amusement smooths it away. Though I suppose it’s convenient that I can simply replace any health you happen to lose while exerting yourself, he adds, the emphasis gentle and teasing, warmth threaded through every word.

Down here, sight means very little. The water is thick with motion and salt, and Remi can’t truly tell how much good he’s doing beyond the resistance he feels easing and surging in answer to his efforts. If he stops now, though, all that carefully built momentum will collapse into nothing, so he keeps going, tentacles sweeping in broad, patient arcs, drawing the sea up and forward again and again.

When Ronin’s praise ripples down the bond, it sends a flash of satisfaction through him so bright it’s almost laughable, his grin widening unseen beneath the waves. Say that again? Remi calls back innocently, mischief colouring his mental voice as he leans into the next great pull of water. I didn’t quite hear you, he adds, shamelessly angling for the praise a second time, even as another heavy wave surges shoreward at his urging.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

Well, Ronin trills through the bond before he's thoroughly distracted by their stint as Caido's newest firefighters, far be it for me to deny you when you put it like that. Especially with my reputation as White Knight on the line. Granted, he won't be able to exert himself at all if he gets sucked out to sea from all of Remi's splashing around, and it's a possibility that grows ever more likely as his husband really gets into the rhythm of redirecting the Arclight's tides.

Dismissing his duplicate to better focus on the task at hand (that task becoming more to dodge Remi's cascades of water than throw sand on the dwindling wildfires), Ronin's laughter echoes vibrantly through to his husband, wry affection suffusing his words. I said your idea is bett- AH--! It might not be the exact punctuation Remi is looking for, but the Knight is cut off as his balance is dragged away from him at last, his legs swept from under him as seawater takes him out at the knees.

"Remi!" he blurts out loud without thinking, trying not to laugh so as to keep from inhaling any water.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

For a moment Remi is entirely occupied with himself, preening in the depths where the water is cool and heavy in response to his husband's praise. Then—sharp and sudden—there is a flicker through the Attuned bond, surprise crashing into amusement as Ronin’s mental voice cuts off mid-thought.

The Bastion shifts on instinct, drawing himself back toward something closer to human in a smooth, practiced cascade, tentacles retreating until only his lower half retains them, just enough to propel him forward with speed and purpose. He breaks the surface in a rush of white water, head and shoulders rising from the sea as he drags a hand across his face, wiping saltwater from his eyes. His curls cling damply to his forehead, and when his gaze finds Ronin there in the surf—down on his knees, soaked and sputtering—the tension snaps cleanly into laughter.

"Babe," Remi calls, voice bright and fond as the waves lap around him, amusement colouring every syllable, "skilled as you are on your knees, that’s not going to stop any fires." His tone is exactly that of the you can't park there soundbyte that overlays car crashes as he grins boyishly across the water.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"It's not going to start any either at least," Ronin calls back after spluttering his way to a clean breath of air, thoroughly soaked and grinning at his husband as he pops up in the shallows like a tentacled siren. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you dealt with most of it." He gestures at the drenched sands and foliage, the air clogging with smoke but with very few active flames. Those that remain are being promptly dealt with by Sugar, the little dragon pausing to chirrup her amusement at Ronin's misfortune every now and then - as is her right.

Getting himself to his feet once he's sure he's not going to be swept away by another rogue wave, Ronin drags his shirt over his head so he can rinse most of the seawater from it, sweeping his hair back out of his face. "That was pretty refreshing once I knew I wasn't going to drown," he adds. "C'mon, hero. I think it's safe for you to come to shore now."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi lifts his brows in open, playful disbelief, a low chuckle slipping out as his gaze lingers on Ronin in the shallows. "I’m not so sure that’s true," he counters lightly, the implication warm and unmistakable, mischief flashing through his eyes before he finally tears them away to take in the island instead. The fires have been largely beaten back now, smoke hanging heavy but harmless, and he puckers his lips into an approving little frown, nodding once to himself at the drenched sands and wilting red growth. All things considered, it could have been much worse.

His attention drifts back just in time to catch Ronin dragging his shirt over his head, and Remi’s grin turns openly boyish at the sight, fondness and desire braided together immediately. He moves toward shore then, tentacles receding smoothly as he gets close enough for his feet to find purchase on the sand, the last of the kraken slipping away. He peels his own shirt off, swishing the fabric through the water to rinse it before closing the remaining distance between them.

An arm loops around Ronin’s waist, drawing him in until there’s no space left to speak of, Remi fitting against him as naturally as breath. LongHeat leaves both air and water warm, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that blooms where their skin meets, salt and smoke and sweat clinging as Remi leans in to capture his husband's lips in a kiss.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Are you calling me a liar, Remi?" Ronin wants to know, grinning crookedly to his husband as he emerges from the sea, glittering and backlit by the sun like he's coming straight off the set of Baywatch. His shirt has been rinsed out by the time the Bastion properly approaches, and he's threatening to tug it back over his head just as Remi's arm catches him around the waist. It's with an easy scoff of laughter that Ronin is tugged forward, shirt forgotten and the fire similarly fading into the periphery.

It's lucky that Sugar is still freewheeling overhead to take care of the last of it, because the moment Ronin's lips meet his husband's, the rest of the world slides out of focus. Remi fits against him like he's never meant to be anywhere else, and for as many years and wars and trials as there have been between them, it always almost feels like the first time. His hands trace scar-flecked skin, salt-sweet and warmed by sunshine, his lips reaffirming promises they've made with just as much enthusiasm as when they were first uttered.

"I love you," he whispered, surprised by his own sincerity, tugging Remi ever closer against him like he might somehow forget how this feels.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

and my heart ran away with me

Remi’s answer is immediate and theatrically earnest, his head shaking even as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "A liar? No, of course not," he insists, all wide-eyed innocence for precisely half a second before it breaks, his grin turning boyish and unmistakably fond. "It’s just that you seem perpetually unaware of how hot you are," he adds lightly. "You,on your knees like that, is absolutely the sort of thing that could start a fire."

He melts into the kiss without hesitation, the world narrowing down to warmth and salt and the familiar fit of Ronin against him. Through his magic, emotion blooms in colour—sun-bright gold threaded with soft, steady blues, the pulse of affection flaring vivid and alive—and it mirrors something in Remi himself, a flush of love that feels as fresh now as it ever did. Years, wars, losses, all of it falls away in the face of that constancy, the quiet marvel that his love and desire for this man have never dulled, never thinned with time.

"I love you too," Remi hums back against Ronin’s lips, the words warm and certain, carried on a breath that barely leaves space between them. He steals another kiss immediately after, unhurried and lingering, as though committing the moment to memory even as he lives it.

remi

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)