we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
Ronin jumps a little at the sound of the voice, already turning towards it as he straightens up. And at first glance, he sees her again - Ashetta standing in the sun-dappled doorway, as if walking out of a memory. But then he blinks and she's gone, and in her place? Her daughter, he now knows. Theea. "Hi," he blurts out, as if he hadn't gone searching for the assassin in the days after meeting her daughter out on the beach; as if that quick introduction hadn't been replaying itself in his mind whenever he let his attention wander for too long.
Clearing his throat and raking a hand back through hair still mostly dark but going snowy around the temples, Ronin gestures to the empty space with a self-deprecating shrug. "Both, maybe?" he confesses. "This place used to be a boxing ring. It belonged to an old friend of mine, but it burned down some years ago. I'm thinking of renovating the place, turning it into a training arena." A story she may have never heard becoming something new.
"Are you," Ronin begins, before catching himself and trying again. "I don't feel like we got to meet properly, before." Stepping forward, he holds out a hand. "I'm Ronin. I think I count as your uncle."
Clearing his throat and raking a hand back through hair still mostly dark but going snowy around the temples, Ronin gestures to the empty space with a self-deprecating shrug. "Both, maybe?" he confesses. "This place used to be a boxing ring. It belonged to an old friend of mine, but it burned down some years ago. I'm thinking of renovating the place, turning it into a training arena." A story she may have never heard becoming something new.
"Are you," Ronin begins, before catching himself and trying again. "I don't feel like we got to meet properly, before." Stepping forward, he holds out a hand. "I'm Ronin. I think I count as your uncle."
THE WHITE KNIGHT
and continue fighting
