[SE] no whisk, no reward

Now the ashes of tomorrow sing your sad song

Had it only been a handful of days before that Remi had teleported back into the Northaven (its shower, actually, as that's where Ronin had been at the time)? Only days since the Knight had kissed Halo's chill from his cheeks and not so subtly pretended not to notice Hotaru's scent clinging to every inch of him before scrubbing him clean and then guiding him into bed?

Gods, it felt like a year, and yet as the scent of coffee and flour teased Remi from sleep, the urge to simply sink away from the warm glow of morning very much suggested that the Bastion, not unlike the Knight, still hadn't quite recovered from the turbulence of Leafchange.

Rolling to the side and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, Remi presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, pressing hard to ward away the lingering darkness of sleep as much as the melancholy that wanted to twist itself further around him. "Something smells good," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants before opting to simply wrap a blanket around his shoulders rather than searching for a sweater.

Padding into the kitchen, Remi presses his lips against the column of Ronin's spine, inhaling deeply before resting his head between his husband's shoulder blades.

the lullaby

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)