i wish I could say I am a light that never goes out.
but i flicker from time to time
but i flicker from time to time
As they part, Remi is breathless in a way that has nothing to do with the chase and everything to do with the way Ronin looks at him. His smile breaks open slow and wide, and he chuckles softly, nose brushing against the Knight’s cheek before he eases back just far enough to speak. "I was meaning to ask," he murmurs, voice still warm and wrecked with affection, "if you might mind us having a little anniversary party." He quirks a brow, playful as he tips his head. "And if you do agree...do you think you’ll be able to be polite? Or should I ask Isla to be on call, just in case our guests don’t dodge fast enough when you get stabby with your antlers?"
Grinning, Remi shifts onto one hip and lets himself lean into Ronin’s thigh, no longer perched so much as draped with lazy satisfaction. One arm hooks loosely around the Knight’s calf as his curls fall across his brow, and he hums—a soft, low sound, like the kind you make when everything in the world is aligned just right.
It had never been ’til death do us part between them. Not when Mort himself would greet them with open arms and call it a reunion instead of an ending. Their love was stronger than vows and more enduring than contracts. And just because they had years left—gods willing, decades—it didn’t make Remi careless with a single second. He would hold each moment like a shell against his ear, listening for the echo of forever in every heartbeat.
"I know you will," he says softly, answering Ronin’s vow like it’s a truth so self-evident it hardly needs saying. But he’d never take it for granted. "And I’ll love you just the same. No matter the shape you take, or what the world calls you. You’ll always be mine." Pausing, he glances at the top of his husband's head and wrinkles his nose adoringly. "Or how gray your hair goes."
Grinning, Remi shifts onto one hip and lets himself lean into Ronin’s thigh, no longer perched so much as draped with lazy satisfaction. One arm hooks loosely around the Knight’s calf as his curls fall across his brow, and he hums—a soft, low sound, like the kind you make when everything in the world is aligned just right.
It had never been ’til death do us part between them. Not when Mort himself would greet them with open arms and call it a reunion instead of an ending. Their love was stronger than vows and more enduring than contracts. And just because they had years left—gods willing, decades—it didn’t make Remi careless with a single second. He would hold each moment like a shell against his ear, listening for the echo of forever in every heartbeat.
"I know you will," he says softly, answering Ronin’s vow like it’s a truth so self-evident it hardly needs saying. But he’d never take it for granted. "And I’ll love you just the same. No matter the shape you take, or what the world calls you. You’ll always be mine." Pausing, he glances at the top of his husband's head and wrinkles his nose adoringly. "Or how gray your hair goes."
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.
