there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Mm, I don't feel as though lanterns are as symbolic for the gods as they are for us," Ronin points out with a smirk. "I appreciate it, though. And if you really want one, I'll see what I can do. It can stay lit every night except for the Festival of Lights, though." Call him superstitious but they've both brushed close enough to death enough for a thousand lifetimes without teasing Ludo to its raggedy face.
"Oh, we're finishing these lanterns," he says with wicked confidence. "And then I'm going to give my thanks to you right here while all the stars watch." Bouncing his eyebrows as if the suggestion is something scandalous, Ronin blows gently on the paint on his creation, ensuring it's dry enough, before exchanging silver for gold pigment.
That same smile Remi mentions is a mere ghost of what it had been the night their friends and family had marched through the doors of Mort's halls to see them, but it's no less sincere as Ronin dips his brush into the paint. "Ten years," he murmurs, almost to himself, "and you still make me feel like the man I was when we lived in the guildhall. There's magic in that, I reckon."
"Oh, we're finishing these lanterns," he says with wicked confidence. "And then I'm going to give my thanks to you right here while all the stars watch." Bouncing his eyebrows as if the suggestion is something scandalous, Ronin blows gently on the paint on his creation, ensuring it's dry enough, before exchanging silver for gold pigment.
That same smile Remi mentions is a mere ghost of what it had been the night their friends and family had marched through the doors of Mort's halls to see them, but it's no less sincere as Ronin dips his brush into the paint. "Ten years," he murmurs, almost to himself, "and you still make me feel like the man I was when we lived in the guildhall. There's magic in that, I reckon."
RONIN
