RONIN
the white knight
"I haven't been hiding it from you," Ronin protests, "so much as I've just been using it on and off since we moved back to Torchline." Which sounds awful and suggestive and vaguely threatening, and the Knight lets it hang in the air between them for a beat so he can offer his husband a sunny smile. "I've just been using it to paint and to store canvases," he clarifies, leaning in to smooch a few kisses to his husband's stubbled cheek. "Kind of hard to find the space when we live in a floating house."
Heading off the beaten track from the beach and into the undergrowth, the Knight leaves his arm casually around Remi's shoulders and breathes in deep the bite of the salt and the sweetness of the flowers unfurling their petals to the morning light. "Your memory is just fine," he promises him. "At least when it comes to the wagon. It's not going anywhere these days - pretty sure the wheel spokes have rusted, and they're half buried in sand anyway."
Heading off the beaten track from the beach and into the undergrowth, the Knight leaves his arm casually around Remi's shoulders and breathes in deep the bite of the salt and the sweetness of the flowers unfurling their petals to the morning light. "Your memory is just fine," he promises him. "At least when it comes to the wagon. It's not going anywhere these days - pretty sure the wheel spokes have rusted, and they're half buried in sand anyway."
