you've long seen your downfall, spelled out in another's bones
It's true that Ronin's lips are already parting to disagree, the breath catching in his throat at Remi's gentle halting of it, and the Knight sits back on his knees to listen. Feathers fluff through the Bastion's hair, and whether in response to that or to the words that drip venom into the space between them, pale and draconic scales are already beginning to glitter across the Knight's shoulders and up the length of his throat, and though he hasn't (yet) bitten his tongue, he swears he can already taste the iron of it.
"That's the point, Remi," he whispers eventually, almost amazed by the way the old hurt still scratches the back of his throat raw. "They were your children. Not ours. Not mine." To say that the past and present colliding like this is uncomfortable is an understatement, because of course time and hard work and endless water beneath endless bridges has made Flora into as much Ronin's daughter as Aoife or Seren, but back then? Gods.
"And you knew that I... that I wanted..." That Ronin has always desired a large family is no secret, but between war and death, between feeling like a terrible father to the children he'd not been able to save or finds scattered to the constellations, and yes, between the unexpected twins roaming woods that felt empty to the Knight... there had never been time for that conversation either, not unless it was to logically put it back in its box where it belonged.
"I don't hate you, Remi," Ronin whispers with a gentle shake of his head, swiping at his eyes and staring down at the lapping water between them. "Gods, I don't even think I hate Hotaru. She just reminds me of how much I hate myself. Flora and Enzo were a part of you, and that should have been enough. It always should have."
"That's the point, Remi," he whispers eventually, almost amazed by the way the old hurt still scratches the back of his throat raw. "They were your children. Not ours. Not mine." To say that the past and present colliding like this is uncomfortable is an understatement, because of course time and hard work and endless water beneath endless bridges has made Flora into as much Ronin's daughter as Aoife or Seren, but back then? Gods.
"And you knew that I... that I wanted..." That Ronin has always desired a large family is no secret, but between war and death, between feeling like a terrible father to the children he'd not been able to save or finds scattered to the constellations, and yes, between the unexpected twins roaming woods that felt empty to the Knight... there had never been time for that conversation either, not unless it was to logically put it back in its box where it belonged.
"I don't hate you, Remi," Ronin whispers with a gentle shake of his head, swiping at his eyes and staring down at the lapping water between them. "Gods, I don't even think I hate Hotaru. She just reminds me of how much I hate myself. Flora and Enzo were a part of you, and that should have been enough. It always should have."
RONIN
