Oh if time is a river lets be stones underwater
The moment Remi's magic brushes against Ronin's skin, it snags—tugged suddenly and sharply by something twisted underneath. The usual rhythm of his husband’s presence is buried beneath a murky tide, and the Bastion stills for half a second, caught off-guard by the sticky, heavy weight that coils back through him. But it’s the rest—the admission, soft and solemn—that causes him to blink, surprise flickering across his sea-glass eyes as he straightens, only to fold Ronin more securely against his chest. His palm finds the back of the Knight’s neck, cradling gently where the sun has left it warm and flushed.
"There’s nothing to be sorry for," he says, his voice low and adoring. "If it’s too much of a risk, then we won’t go." Leaning his chin against Ronin’s temple, his curls still dripping seawater into the collar of his husband’s shirt, Remi sighs softly. "We weren’t sure if intervening was the right call anyway. And if you came back more certain that it’s not..." He shrugs a shoulder. "Then that's all there is to it."
It isn’t resignation; there’s nothing reluctant in his voice. Only conviction, quiet and edged.
"There’s nothing to be sorry for," he says, his voice low and adoring. "If it’s too much of a risk, then we won’t go." Leaning his chin against Ronin’s temple, his curls still dripping seawater into the collar of his husband’s shirt, Remi sighs softly. "We weren’t sure if intervening was the right call anyway. And if you came back more certain that it’s not..." He shrugs a shoulder. "Then that's all there is to it."
It isn’t resignation; there’s nothing reluctant in his voice. Only conviction, quiet and edged.
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.
