the bastion
And you should know,
I left but never lost my place
I left but never lost my place
Remi grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nothing goes better with a harmonica than a tambourine," he declares with theatrical confidence, before pausing just long enough to tip his head and add slyly, "Except maybe the triangle?"
When the shrimp arrives, Remi leans forward across the table and accepts the offering directly between his teeth, sighing with unabashed pleasure as he chews. "I think I could spend an entire season eating nothing but coconut shrimp," he hums once he swallows, licking a bit of breading from his thumb before reaching for one of his own.
Ronin’s laugh draws a mirrored one from Remi, bright and boyish, the kind that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle with warmth. "As long as it’s with you," he says softly, without a hint of teasing this time, "I don’t care what kind of shenanigans we get up to." And he means it. Triple-married. Dog-adopting. Northaven-in-the-Oerwoud level chaos. He’ll take it all.
Still smiling, Remi reaches across the table and gently takes Ronin’s hand in his, thumb tracing thoughtlessly along the Knight’s knuckles. The light has grown softer now, golden with the last remnants of sunset, and it makes Ronin look like something out of a dream; a beautiful, ridiculous, tambourine-wielding dream.
"Thank you," Remi murmurs at last, tone shifting into something earnest and quietly emotional. A slow, radiant warmth blooming like sunlight through still water, shot through with brilliant, bittersweet saffron and pale, aching gold bleeds out from where their fingers touch. The feeling of bare feet on warm sand, of waking up already held.
The gratitude unfolds gently, spiralling like the unfurling of vines: soft greens and flushed rose hues, petal-deep and honey-rich. It is quiet, but profound, this contentment; a subtle balm pressed into the bond between them, as if to say: thank you for lifting me from the shadows, for this evening, this table, this life.
When the shrimp arrives, Remi leans forward across the table and accepts the offering directly between his teeth, sighing with unabashed pleasure as he chews. "I think I could spend an entire season eating nothing but coconut shrimp," he hums once he swallows, licking a bit of breading from his thumb before reaching for one of his own.
Ronin’s laugh draws a mirrored one from Remi, bright and boyish, the kind that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle with warmth. "As long as it’s with you," he says softly, without a hint of teasing this time, "I don’t care what kind of shenanigans we get up to." And he means it. Triple-married. Dog-adopting. Northaven-in-the-Oerwoud level chaos. He’ll take it all.
Still smiling, Remi reaches across the table and gently takes Ronin’s hand in his, thumb tracing thoughtlessly along the Knight’s knuckles. The light has grown softer now, golden with the last remnants of sunset, and it makes Ronin look like something out of a dream; a beautiful, ridiculous, tambourine-wielding dream.
"Thank you," Remi murmurs at last, tone shifting into something earnest and quietly emotional. A slow, radiant warmth blooming like sunlight through still water, shot through with brilliant, bittersweet saffron and pale, aching gold bleeds out from where their fingers touch. The feeling of bare feet on warm sand, of waking up already held.
The gratitude unfolds gently, spiralling like the unfurling of vines: soft greens and flushed rose hues, petal-deep and honey-rich. It is quiet, but profound, this contentment; a subtle balm pressed into the bond between them, as if to say: thank you for lifting me from the shadows, for this evening, this table, this life.
and these nights I miss you most
my heart is yours to break
my heart is yours to break
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.
