ghosts and devils come calling

Oh if time is a river lets be stones underwater

Though Remi’s first instinct is to protest—to grab Ronin by the face and remind him, not gently, that being tired and being wrong are not the same thing—he reins it in. He hears the echo of his husband’s guilt in the bond and doesn’t try to silence it this time. He knows the importance of letting the words out before they calcify inside.

So instead, he quietly nods. "If it’s you asking," he says at last, voice low and steady, "then yes, I'd say that's the best reason to believe that you have paid it." If the world refuses to see that as true, Remi will happily remind them.

Pulling away only far enough to take Ronin’s hand, Remi gives it a gentle tug, guiding him back toward the edge of the houseboat. Settling beside him, the Bastion stretches out a wing—broad and steady, sun-damp and warm—and drapes it gently across Ronin’s back.

He doesn’t speak for a few breaths, just lets the silence soften a little, waiting until the air between them eases. "What changed your mind?" he asks, turning just enough to meet Ronin’s profile. "You knew Flora wasn’t going to go behind the barrier. Not unless we forced her. So...what did she say that made you decide it wasn’t worth the risk?" It sounded like it was guilt layered with the weight of obligation, but Remi wasn't entirely sure.