the bastion
How do I learn my dreams to mold
To lay them bare in the morning cold?
To lay them bare in the morning cold?
It's a strange thing, to be married to a man like Ronin.
For all the times the thunderous pulse of their wedding bands means something, it just as often doesn't. Was Ronin in mortal peril? Or was he merely blowing off some steam going for a run directly up a cliff face? Or fighting off a few pesky dragons who'd grown used to having the Cordillera back to themselves? Having paused his afternoon reading to consider precisely this, there was a split second as Remi felt the tendrils of their shared Rescue Magic begin to grab hold of him, for worry to set in.
Not panic; not yet anyway, but as Remi appeared in the relatively warm alpine meadow of their former home, it was with his magic net already cast out and wings unfurling from his sides.
Only..
With a breath lodged in his throat, Remi straightens. There, upon their old porch, sits his husband. There's blood flicking his lips and the front of his shirt to be sure, but where the Knight was concerned that wasn't always a cause for concern. Had it been only that and the empty cocktail glass and sketchbook, the Bastion might have sighed out the breath he was holding had it not been for the roar of pain that snarled through the attuned bond sharply enough to have Remi gasping.
"Hey." Rushing toward the Knight, Remi sinks down before him, not daring to ask the dilapidated boards of their porch to bear both of their weights at once. Reaching for Ronin's hand, the Bastion tries to take stock of the situation but finds that the slightly pained tilt of his husband's posture didn't account for the too-deep waters of despair threatening to drown him. "Hey, I'm here."
For all the times the thunderous pulse of their wedding bands means something, it just as often doesn't. Was Ronin in mortal peril? Or was he merely blowing off some steam going for a run directly up a cliff face? Or fighting off a few pesky dragons who'd grown used to having the Cordillera back to themselves? Having paused his afternoon reading to consider precisely this, there was a split second as Remi felt the tendrils of their shared Rescue Magic begin to grab hold of him, for worry to set in.
Not panic; not yet anyway, but as Remi appeared in the relatively warm alpine meadow of their former home, it was with his magic net already cast out and wings unfurling from his sides.
Only..
With a breath lodged in his throat, Remi straightens. There, upon their old porch, sits his husband. There's blood flicking his lips and the front of his shirt to be sure, but where the Knight was concerned that wasn't always a cause for concern. Had it been only that and the empty cocktail glass and sketchbook, the Bastion might have sighed out the breath he was holding had it not been for the roar of pain that snarled through the attuned bond sharply enough to have Remi gasping.
"Hey." Rushing toward the Knight, Remi sinks down before him, not daring to ask the dilapidated boards of their porch to bear both of their weights at once. Reaching for Ronin's hand, the Bastion tries to take stock of the situation but finds that the slightly pained tilt of his husband's posture didn't account for the too-deep waters of despair threatening to drown him. "Hey, I'm here."
If they're still out there then the chasm grows
For all you know, for all you've known
For all you know, for all you've known
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
