you've long seen your downfall, spelled out in another's bones
"You know," Ronin is saying to Remi from the prow of the Northaven, the Knight busy pulling off his shoes and setting them to one side, "this is apparently monsoon season." He remembers, distantly, when they had first lived in Torchline and before the region had been protected from the worst of the weather, the lashing of the rain and the endless grey haze along the beaches. "Wouldn't think it now, would you?"
Grinning over his shoulder and pulling his shirt over his head, Ronin is left in a pair of swimming shorts adorned with starfish and with the Flowerbirth sun beaming onto freckled shoulders. In the distance, of course, Starfall squats like a monster laying in wait, but the Knight is doing his best to put it firmly out of his mind today. Because today, they have towed the Northaven out into the shallows, and they are armed with nets that they might clear the Longnight debris from Torchline's waters.
"Ready?"
Grinning over his shoulder and pulling his shirt over his head, Ronin is left in a pair of swimming shorts adorned with starfish and with the Flowerbirth sun beaming onto freckled shoulders. In the distance, of course, Starfall squats like a monster laying in wait, but the Knight is doing his best to put it firmly out of his mind today. Because today, they have towed the Northaven out into the shallows, and they are armed with nets that they might clear the Longnight debris from Torchline's waters.
"Ready?"
RONIN
