the bastion
And if the sky grows heavy
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright
Remi watches as Ronin cradles Seren closer, as if tucking her against his chest might pull the warmth back into her body, might undo the stillness that has settled into her limbs like a tangible thing. His breath hitches at Ronin's question, and for half a second, Remi doesn't understand. The question is too sharp, too wrong, too distant from reality. What for? Because she’s dead, Ronin. Because I know this cold. I was this cold. Because I’ve been here before, with you, on this very fucking beach, and I still don’t know how to stop it from happening.
But the words never leave his lips. Because he looks at his husband—really looks at him, and sees the raw edges of something breaking, something that shouldn’t be touched lest it shatters entirely. The way Ronin smooths Seren’s hair with gentle, practiced fingers, the way he doesn’t say the words, the way he tries, even now, to frame it in terms of when she wakes up—all of it cracks something deep in Remi’s chest, forcing him to his knees.
"I know," he rasps, voice barely more than a whisper, and it's not enough—not even close—but he has nothing else to give. Reaching out, he settles a hand over Ronin's, over the fingers that grip Seren like a lifeline. The colours that bleed through from Remi's palm are muted and drenched in sorrow, the pallet one of existential fury that yet another daughter of theirs should be killed. There's no point in saying that she's with Aoife now, no point in saying he can still bring Seren back for Ronin to say goodbye to, and so he doesn't.
But the words never leave his lips. Because he looks at his husband—really looks at him, and sees the raw edges of something breaking, something that shouldn’t be touched lest it shatters entirely. The way Ronin smooths Seren’s hair with gentle, practiced fingers, the way he doesn’t say the words, the way he tries, even now, to frame it in terms of when she wakes up—all of it cracks something deep in Remi’s chest, forcing him to his knees.
"I know," he rasps, voice barely more than a whisper, and it's not enough—not even close—but he has nothing else to give. Reaching out, he settles a hand over Ronin's, over the fingers that grip Seren like a lifeline. The colours that bleed through from Remi's palm are muted and drenched in sorrow, the pallet one of existential fury that yet another daughter of theirs should be killed. There's no point in saying that she's with Aoife now, no point in saying he can still bring Seren back for Ronin to say goodbye to, and so he doesn't.
If the ground gives way beneath us,
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you
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.
