all our lives i watched you search beneath the fallen skies
"If it makes you feel better, husband, I'm fairly certain the reason we didn’t think of this is because we'd have eaten everything before anyone else arrived." Or at least Ronin would have. Remi’s voice is low, edged with quiet amusement as he leans into Ronin’s hold, content to be guided through the festival as if they were one entity rather than two. He lets his gaze drift over the flickering lights, the bonfire’s glow licking at the edges of the tables, the way the festival has turned the snow-covered meadow into something warm, something alive.
The scent of roasted meats, honeyed pastries, and fresh bread drifts on the chilled air, but Remi barely takes notice—he’s too busy watching Ronin with a familiar fondness as his husband deposits their contribution and immediately sets about assembling his first of what is undoubtedly many courses.
"Mmm, I should have known you had a plan." Remi steps beside him, his fingers brushing over the edge of a bowl before plucking a piece of crusty bread from a nearby platter (and perhaps looking for a glass of wine to dunk it in). "A week of leftovers and not a single bit of cooking required. Truly, you are the greatest strategist of our time." His tone is dry, but his lips curve in a boyish smile that has his sea-glass eyes sparkling.
He might have said more, but then there’s movement—too many eyes flickering in their direction. He doesn’t register Sunjata ’s reaction, too distracted by the approach of someone much closer. The sound of Maea ’s voice has Remi turns toward her, his expression warming. He watches quietly as she pulls the carefully wrapped package from beneath her cloak, his fingers gentle as he takes it from her, the chamomile tucked into the ribbon a small, delicate detail that doesn’t go unnoticed. "You didn't have to get us anything," he protests softly, glancing over his shoulder at Ronin before carefully unwrapping the package.
The wine glasses catch the light almost immediately, glistening like frozen water, the craftsmanship intricate and thoughtful. He turns one in his hand, watching the way the glass warps the torchlight, and something in his expression softens. "These are beautiful, Maea. Thank you."
He passes the second glass to Ronin, letting his husband admire the gift as well before his attention shifts again.
First to Lyra, then to Noe, both unfamiliar but approaching with the kind of casual ease that festivals like these tended to encourage, especially in Ronin's orbit. Remi’s sea-glass gaze flicks toward Ronin at the mention of his name, not at all surprised when his husband is greeted like an old friend. "Hello, Noe," he greets after a moment, nodding slightly in her direction. "I'm Remi." His tone is polite, and even if he doesn’t jump to conversation the way Ronin does, he does seem more than at ease. "It does seem to be a good party. Though if Ronin has his way, there won’t be a single scrap of food left by the end of the night."
Ronin brings their contribution of bread and butter!
The scent of roasted meats, honeyed pastries, and fresh bread drifts on the chilled air, but Remi barely takes notice—he’s too busy watching Ronin with a familiar fondness as his husband deposits their contribution and immediately sets about assembling his first of what is undoubtedly many courses.
"Mmm, I should have known you had a plan." Remi steps beside him, his fingers brushing over the edge of a bowl before plucking a piece of crusty bread from a nearby platter (and perhaps looking for a glass of wine to dunk it in). "A week of leftovers and not a single bit of cooking required. Truly, you are the greatest strategist of our time." His tone is dry, but his lips curve in a boyish smile that has his sea-glass eyes sparkling.
He might have said more, but then there’s movement—too many eyes flickering in their direction. He doesn’t register Sunjata ’s reaction, too distracted by the approach of someone much closer. The sound of Maea ’s voice has Remi turns toward her, his expression warming. He watches quietly as she pulls the carefully wrapped package from beneath her cloak, his fingers gentle as he takes it from her, the chamomile tucked into the ribbon a small, delicate detail that doesn’t go unnoticed. "You didn't have to get us anything," he protests softly, glancing over his shoulder at Ronin before carefully unwrapping the package.
The wine glasses catch the light almost immediately, glistening like frozen water, the craftsmanship intricate and thoughtful. He turns one in his hand, watching the way the glass warps the torchlight, and something in his expression softens. "These are beautiful, Maea. Thank you."
He passes the second glass to Ronin, letting his husband admire the gift as well before his attention shifts again.
First to Lyra, then to Noe, both unfamiliar but approaching with the kind of casual ease that festivals like these tended to encourage, especially in Ronin's orbit. Remi’s sea-glass gaze flicks toward Ronin at the mention of his name, not at all surprised when his husband is greeted like an old friend. "Hello, Noe," he greets after a moment, nodding slightly in her direction. "I'm Remi." His tone is polite, and even if he doesn’t jump to conversation the way Ronin does, he does seem more than at ease. "It does seem to be a good party. Though if Ronin has his way, there won’t be a single scrap of food left by the end of the night."
Ronin brings their contribution of bread and butter!
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.
