The breeze shifted, curling around the cups and ruffling the steam rising from them. Light pooled golden on the sand, and then, as naturally as the tide brushing the shore, Mort appeared; he didn’t announce himself. He never needed to, especially not with Remi.
Barefoot, curls wind-tossed, his boyish face already lit with a grin, Mort stepped into the quiet space Remi had carved out. There was nothing divine in his arrival—no thunder, no trumpet of heavens—just the unmistakable warmth of being known. Of being loved.
'Ten years," Mort murmured fondly, dropping with easy grace to sit beside Remi in the sand. He leaned back on his palms for a moment, breathing in the salt and the tea and the memory-drenched air, before turning his gaze to the Bastion beside him. "It hardly seems possible. Then again—" his smile turned just a shade more tender, "—you and Ronin have always made the impossible look easy."
Reaching forward, Mort lifted the second cup, cradling it in his hands like something sacred. His eyes glinted with warmth as he brought it briefly to his lips, inhaling rather than drinking. Setting the cup gently down again, Mort turned fully toward his demigod, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course I’ll help," he said, his voice both earnest and light. "You and Ronin… you were always meant to balance each other. Just like Vi and I." His smile turned briefly wistful, then resolute; Vi had once told the Bastion as much, Mort knew. "Tell me what you have in mind."
Barefoot, curls wind-tossed, his boyish face already lit with a grin, Mort stepped into the quiet space Remi had carved out. There was nothing divine in his arrival—no thunder, no trumpet of heavens—just the unmistakable warmth of being known. Of being loved.
'Ten years," Mort murmured fondly, dropping with easy grace to sit beside Remi in the sand. He leaned back on his palms for a moment, breathing in the salt and the tea and the memory-drenched air, before turning his gaze to the Bastion beside him. "It hardly seems possible. Then again—" his smile turned just a shade more tender, "—you and Ronin have always made the impossible look easy."
Reaching forward, Mort lifted the second cup, cradling it in his hands like something sacred. His eyes glinted with warmth as he brought it briefly to his lips, inhaling rather than drinking. Setting the cup gently down again, Mort turned fully toward his demigod, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course I’ll help," he said, his voice both earnest and light. "You and Ronin… you were always meant to balance each other. Just like Vi and I." His smile turned briefly wistful, then resolute; Vi had once told the Bastion as much, Mort knew. "Tell me what you have in mind."
mort
