even my darkness shines for you
Quite what it says about Ronin's tastes is something the Knight writes against Remi's tongue, both eager and thorough in his attempts to get his point across. The result, of course, means that he doesn't see the pineapple-balloon until it has already been splattered across the canvas, and he parts just enough to scoff out a laugh. "Close enough," he reasons, pressing an extra kiss against the Bastion's cheek and reaching out to snag the rest of the tubes of paint, offering a few to his husband if for no other reason than so they can appropriately prepare their canvas.
"I want to hang this in our boat," he informs the other man with a smirk, streaking a shade of deep teal across the white and letting it bleed into the blue Remi has added. "Or maybe fly it above the Northaven like a flag."
To say that Ronin is careful in where he decides to put his colours is a complete lie, of course, and no sooner has he dropped the tubes of paint when he's trying to snag Remi around the waist, pulling him back against his chest so he might better transfer paint against him. "Ready to make a masterpiece?" he murmurs against the shell of his ear.
"I want to hang this in our boat," he informs the other man with a smirk, streaking a shade of deep teal across the white and letting it bleed into the blue Remi has added. "Or maybe fly it above the Northaven like a flag."
To say that Ronin is careful in where he decides to put his colours is a complete lie, of course, and no sooner has he dropped the tubes of paint when he's trying to snag Remi around the waist, pulling him back against his chest so he might better transfer paint against him. "Ready to make a masterpiece?" he murmurs against the shell of his ear.
the
WHITEKNIGHT
