we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
And so they walk, Ronin letting an easy arm fall around Mel's shoulders as they do, the Knight nursing his drink with his free hand. He's silent for the most part as the crowds bleed away into soft sands and the hush of the encroaching tide, giving the Honeybee as much time as she needs to do with what she wishes. And when she does speak at last, he hums a gentle, considering response, sipping at his drink and turning his gaze skywards to watch the cloud wyrms for a bit.
"Better is relative," Ronin says. "All of us can always be better. That would have been true even if you had won." Shrugging, he glances down at her. "It's a wake up call though, right? Having to fit together the person you were with the one you've become, after a god chooses you for something. When I first came back as Safrin's star, you'd have been able to take me out with one punch, even as you are now."
"Better is relative," Ronin says. "All of us can always be better. That would have been true even if you had won." Shrugging, he glances down at her. "It's a wake up call though, right? Having to fit together the person you were with the one you've become, after a god chooses you for something. When I first came back as Safrin's star, you'd have been able to take me out with one punch, even as you are now."
THE WHITE KNIGHT
and continue fighting
